#and can just shelve the ones already sorta-sorted

[9ofspades]

Easier to sort than looking up every title individually.

i DESPERATELY want an elo-type ranker that will let me sort my tbr by the books i'm most interested in reading, PREFERABLY a calibre plugin that will let me choose by clicking on covers because that's the place that has most of my books with covers. i tried just using a site that let me copy/paste a list but without the covers i had to look up every title to figure out what the fuck i was choosing between :(

[queenbrucewayne]

Cold Hearted

A/n: another inspiration that came randomly, also long again…

Gun fire… it just wouldn’t be a typical Gotham day without a bit of gunfire.

The party you were at was a simple gala hosted by some deep pockets that the company you were working for invited you too.

All things were going well, and folks were dancing and talking all the way from ceos to political figures and smaller employees. Until Mr Freeze came crashing the party…

A lot of people scattered around and a few even made it out of the venue before the other guys that followed him with the guns came shooting in the air.

You were lucky enough to get out of the main room towards the kitchen, keeping a low profile from the panic in the main room.

Maybe there was a back door, a different way to leave and notify the police if they weren’t already on their way.

Suddenly the kitchen door swung open and came in two men with guns, they had a man who’s face you couldn’t see following them with another two men with guns behind him.

“You really should’ve thought twice about playing hero Mr Wayne.” One of the said.

Mr Wayne? Your boss?… great.

They hadn’t notice your presence yet, hiding behind one of the kitchen shelves. You crouched down lower, looking around for something to help, but you were basically gonna be actually bringing a knife to a gun fight.

“Hey!” Jumping back you got scared as the sudden voice from behind you shouted. Where the hell did this guy come from?

You tried to back peddle away from him, but it was useless. He quickly grabbed you by the hair and dragged you to the other group of men along with Mr Wayne.

“Found a straggler.” He threw you down, almost causing you to some your head against the floor, but lucky you stopped yourself.

A few men laughed, you also heard a couple of them whistle.

Feeling an arm around you, glancing up through your dis shuffled hair was Mr Wayne. He was bent down trying to get a look at your face to see if you were injured.

Smiling gently, you moved your hair out of the way, nodding to him that you were fine. He helped you up even though you didn’t really need it, you were grateful nonetheless.

“We really don’t have time for this. Turn around walk to the freezer.” The man standing in front of us directly was waving his gun in the direction behind us to the kitchen freezer.

“I’m sure this isn’t necessary, we can all go out to the main room with everyone else.” Mr Wayne took a step closer to the man.

The man smiled at him, but it wasn’t friendly. He then took a pistol from his waist and shot it at you, the bullet grazed your arm. You cried out, falling to the floor, you held your arm as the pain hit you all at once.

“I wasn’t asking for opinions.”

Mr Wayne quickly dropped down in front of you, putting his hand over yours that was already covered in blood from the wound.

His expression was hard to read, it was a mix between worry and something else… anger maybe? There was a dark look to him you didn’t know he was capable of, it kind of scared you…

“Can you stand?” Just like that the expression was gone and all that was left was concern. His voice was gentle and soft, absolutely nothing like how he just looked.

You nodded, feeling the sting feeling that came from standing up. Even though your legs were fine, any sort of movement was bringing pain to your arm.

Mr Wayne held you close to him, still holding your wound that still hadn’t stopped bleeding. You both walked towards the freezer, opening it slightly, he stopped, looking back to the men behind you.

The man raised his gun again, which was all that was needed to move forward. The blast of freezing air consumed you, it was sorta helping with the feeling of your shoulder but not that much.

When you both turned around the men smiled back at you. Then the door closed, locking you both in…

Bruce tried to push on the door, but it was absolutely pointless. You could tell he knew that too. He sighed, clearly frustrated.

You had found an empty crate to sit on, still holding your arm tightly you sat down, ignoring the sudden chill it brought to your thighs.

Turning around, Bruce looked down at you. He instantly took off his blazer he was wearing and wrapped it around you. Crouched down in front of you, he gently put his hand on your wrist. “Do you mind if I look at it?”

“No, I don’t mind..” you slowly removed your hand that was covering your shoulder. Hissing slightly as the pain came thru again.

Looking up at you he stopped. Once you nodded you were okay, he continued to really try and get a look at your shoulder.

You weren’t sure what the hell kind of medical experience he had, but you did know that his father used to be a doctor, maybe he learned something from that. Although the idea seemed silly, he definitely looked like he knew what he was doing.

“Just a graze, the bleeding makes it seem worse then it actually is. I don’t doubt it hurts though.” He looked back to you, then looking at your dress. “I’m going to do something, don’t worry, I’ll pay for the damages.”

Before you could ask what he was talking about, he took hold of the bottom of your dress, ripping a long piece of fabric off.

“Oh..” you we’re a bit disappointed since you did just buy it yesterday, but when you saw him use the cloth to wrap around your shoulder, there wasn’t much you could argue about.

Once he finished, the wound was covered and the bleeding stopped for now. It was a bit tight but you knew that was needed to prevent anymore blood spilling.

You looked to his white shirt that was now stained, along with his hands and even some blood got on his pants.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, you almost didn’t catch it.

“Sorry? What for?” They were probably alive because of him.

“I got you shot.” He stated, looking up at you.

“Oh… Mr Wayne, you didn’t get me shot, you were trying to help.”

“So much for that.” He mumbled.

“You weren’t holding the gun, and it’s just a graze, I should be good to go once help comes.” You tried to sound optimistic, which definitely was hard to do locked in a freezer.

It definitely felt colder then before, you weren’t sure if it was because you both had been here for awhile now, or the temperature had actually dropped.

“It’s colder.” He commented. Standing up, he looked around and found the temp reader. “Negative eighteen… it’s dropping.”

“Dropping? Why would it be getting colder unless-“

“They planned to freeze us from the beginning.” Looking around, he looked up to the two huge fans that were blowing near the ceiling. “I gotta break those fans, it’s only making it worse.”

Looking up at the blowing fans, you knew he was right, the closer you were to them was even worse then near the door. “How? Throw a turkey at it?” You joked.

You made eye contact with him, he raised an eyebrow at you. “Sorry… I’m not helping.”

He shook his head, “you’re in pain, and freezing, if anything you’re actually pretty calm given the situation.”

“Yeah… I guess I am.” Thinking of the alternative of what could happen, this situation didn’t seem so bad. “Could’ve been worse..”

Stacking a few crates, he was already reaching for the fans, working on trying to ether break them or turn them off. “Oh yeah?” He finally popped the panal off. “And what is worse then turning into a snowman?” He teased. The fans suddenly stopped, a small success for now.

“Being alone with them.” You said simply. When he didn’t say anything back, you looked up to him, your eyes widened at the look he was giving you.

His face had that expression from before, a scary look from a man who was always smiling for the public. You didn’t wanna know what he was thinking, so you cleared your throat. “But you were here, so it all worked out…” you laughed nervously.

Getting down from the crates, he sat down across from you. Rubbing his hands together, he blowed on them probably trying to warm them after being so close the fans.

“Here.” You leaned forward, taking his hands in yours. Since the both of you were cold, you weren’t even sure if this was helping. Pulling his hands towards your mouth, you started to blow hot air on top them, hoping that would help even the slightest.

Doing that for a few minutes, you finally looked up to see him staring down at you. Just then the thought of what you were doing made you nervous. Pulling back you placed your hands onto your lap, looking away from him and to anything else. “Uh… sorry.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “It’s okay, that kinda helped.”

“How long do you think we’ve been in here for?” You wondered.

He glanced down at his watch, “probably twenty minutes. If I had to guess how long till help comes, maybe an hour?”

“An hour!?” You looked back to him, “could we even survive an hour in here?”

He looked back to the temperature reader, it was getting lower. “Not if the temp keeps lowering. The fans being off helped, but it didn’t do anything to make the the temp rise.”

“How wonderful. I’ve always wanted to be like Elsa.” You rolled your eyes.

“We’ll get outta here. What kind of boss would I be if I let one of my employees freeze to death when pay day is tomorrow.” He looked back to you.

“Was… was that a joke? Did you just make a joke?” You smiled. Seeing his mood become a little lighter.

He shrugged, “thought you would use some distraction, maybe take your mind off the pain.”

“Actually… it doesn’t really hurt anymore.. I think my arms went numb.”

Looking more concerned now, he brought one of his hands to the side of your arm. “You can’t feel that?”

You shook your head no, which only made him worry more. Standing up, he started to unbutton his collared shirt.

“Woah! Uh what are you doing?” You asked, looking away from him.

“Body heat, it’s the only thing that’ll make us last longer, it’s gonna be the waiting game until someone finds us.” He pulled the crate he was sitting on closer now, placing it right in front of yours.

You still hadn’t turned to look at him. Moving your legs to spread open since he had moved the crate right in-front of you now. You heard him sit back down so now he was only a few inches from you.

“Hey… I know this might be uncomfortable, but this is the best option.” He sounded so sweet, probably being fully aware of how this was indeed going to be uncomfortable, but he was still right.

“Okay.. just as long as it’s not brought up at the next conference meeting.”

He knew you were joking to make yourself feel better. Truth be told he wasn’t sure when help would come, by now the signal he sent Alfred earlier should’ve made it thru and the police would’ve been contacted. However, the time it took to find you both was unforeseen. All he could do is help you last as long as possible.

Scooting closer, he wrapped both his arms around your neck, trying to avoid any pressure on your injured shoulder. The height difference with you two wasn’t exactly ideal, especially when his goal was to put as much of his open skin on you.

“You’re gonna have to probably straddle me.” He said.

You just about choked, “Uhhhh, excuse me?”

“You’re shorter then me, if all I can do is warm your neck, there’s really no point, you need to be closer and you being a similar height will be easier. Also….” He hesitated for a moment, not sure how you would feel on what he was gonna say next. “Your dress…”

You were confused for a second, wondering what was wrong with your dress….and then. “Oh…”

He sighed, “you know what I’m asking?”

You nodded, trying to hide your face to keep him from seeing your embarrassment. “Body heat… so the dress. Okay, I get it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You really shouldn’t apologize, you’re trying to save us.. I need to just grow up… we’re both adults.” It was taking a lot for you to control your heart rate at this point.

“No. It’s completely understandable. It definitely goes against every HR guideline ever made.” He was trying to lighten the mood again.

“HR guidelines probably don’t have a loophole for near death experiences… so I guess I can’t complain too much.”

“Here, take off the blazer first, I have an idea.” He said, pulling his hands back he waited for you to slip off the blazer.

Once you had it off you handed it to him to hold. And now, the dress... "Uh, could you maybe....the zipper?"

"Yeah, of course." Reaching behind you, he undid the hook on your zipper, and then he pulled it down about half way. If this wasn't a freezer and you two weren't sitting on wicker crates waiting to freeze to death; this would probably be a super sexy, intimate moment.

"Thanks." you mumbled. Slipping your arms from the dress, it fell to your waist, you were thankful in that moment you wore a bra. The chill quickly reached the now open skin, although it truly wasn't any worse than what you were already feeling. "Okay, now what?"

Taking the jacket he had in his hands, he pulled it around your shoulders like before, however this time instead of you putting your arms through the sleeves, he pulled you closer, gripping your thighs to be wrapped around his waist. You were almost sitting on his lap at this point, your chest pressed up against his.

"Wrap your arms around me."

So you did. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you slid your hands up his back. and under his white dress shirt. You didn't really feel around, but you could've sworn you felt scarring, not really expecting it just made you wonder what it was that could’ve caused such damage.

Just then he finally moved his arms under yours, taking you by surprise he had basically lifted you up to bring you closer. Now you were sitting on his lap... great...

Now that his arms were behind your back, he took the blazer and slipped his arms through the sleeves, pushing it all the way up so the collar was now to the back of your neck and the inside of the blazer was covering you from behind. Once it was pulled up as tightly as he could get it, he hugged you against him.

Resting your head on his shoulder, you started to feel the bit of body heat he was producing. You hoped he was feeling some of yours as well.

"Surprisingly, it's kinda working." You said, surprised at how quickly it made a difference.

"You thought I was just doing all of this to get you undressed? I know better to buy a lady dinner first." He teased.

You tried to laugh, but it came out rough, causing you to cough. He instantly took notice, turning his head down to look at you.

"How is the pain?"

You shook your head, "It doesn't hurt anymore, nothing is really hurting anymore."

"I don't think feeling nothing is a good thing." He commented, taking a quick look at the thermostat. It got lower again. Damn it...

"Man, I thought heat was supposed to make you sleepy, not the cold." You yawned.

"You're tired?" He asked.

"Yeah, probably should've had that extra coffee today." you were mostly joking, but you felt him stiffen.

"Whatever you do, don't fall asleep. Keep talking, sing, just don't sleep." He urged.

"Why not? What would happen?"

He didn't say anything for a moment, probably thinking he shouldn't really say anything. "You might not wake up."

You became still, not really knowing what to say to that. He must have noticed your change of behavior, because you felt him hold you tighter.

"That's not going to happen, you're going to keep talking, help will come, common, tell me a bit more about yourself. Lets start with your name..."

"Right, my name. Uh... Y/n."

"Good, nice to meet you. I'm Bruce."

You laughed again, it was raspy and barley audible. "Funny."

"How long have you worked at the company?" He kept going, glancing at his watch. It's been about forty-five minutes...

"Two years, and...a month... How did you know I worked for you?" You struggled to get the words out, your teeth were chattering now.

"I recognize you from all the charity and gala conferences. You're normally keeping notes that the director should be doing."

"Wow, you really pay attention to detail."

"I've known for a few weeks now, you have way better hand writing then he does." More light hearted jokes.

"Heh, does this mean I get a gold star?"

Bruce laughed, his chest was the only bit of movement you could actually feel left. The wound couldn't even be felt anymore, your feet were a lost cause, and who knew how many fingers you had at the moment.

"I'll give you a whole damn trophy, just keep talking."

Nothing sounded better right now than a nice nap. You closed your eyes, bringing yourself closer to his neck. Just a bit warmer.

"I just wanna say, Mr Wayne-"

"Bruce."

"Bruce... All things considered, you aren't the worst person in the world to die with." Your voice was just about gone now, it was getting harder now every word seemed like a workout.

"You're not going to die, we have a conference in a few days, I expect you to take lead. Keep taking. What's your favorite tv show?" He kept pushing it. "What do you do on the weekends?"

"This is the worst game of twenty questions."

"Jokes. Good, keep going."

"I have this neighbor, he says he doesn't break "my flower pots, but i know he does. I've seen it." You start to stutter, "I know some people are just mean for no reason, but my poor pots."

"What a jerk, I'll go with you after this, we can both give him a piece of our minds." He heard you laugh, it was a good sign.

"How nice, you can do that for me... right?"

He looked back down at her, "Y/n, open your eyes."

Slowly she opened them back up, staring up at him she smiled softly at the bright blue. "Beautiful..."

Bruce watched her eyes close again, he shook her gently, but they wouldn't open, again harder this time, nothing...

You thought you heard his voice calling out to you, but when you slowly opened your eyes, it was blinded by white lights, a few unfamiliar faces kept trying to talk to you at once, nothing was making sense.

Again your eyes closed and you couldn’t fight it, it went dark once more.

The second time you woke up, there was the light again, but it wasn’t as harsh as the first time. You looked around, seeing it was dark outside, must have meant you hadn’t slept for that long.

You knew instantly you were in a hospital. The beeping monitor was a dead giveaway, and all the wires you were hooked up to felt like it weighed more then it should.

The room had flowers all around, some on the window seal, a couple on the side tables, even a few bouquets on the floor. They were all beautiful.

Still scanning the room, your eyes landed on the figure that was slouched in the chair beside you. His head was down and arms were crossed on his chest, his hair hiding his eyes, and one of the hospital blankets was draped across him.

When you eyes finally adjusted you instantly recognized who it was. “Bruce?”

He moved slightly, raising his head he looked around until his gaze landed on you. His stare widened, and he quickly brought the chair he was sitting in closer to your bedside. “Hey. You’re awake.”

Taking your hand he gave it a gentle squeeze. “How are you feeling?”

You gave him a small smile. “I feel warm.”

He nodded. “And no pain?”

“I feel my shoulder a little bit, maybe a bit stiff, but not terrible all things considered.” You we’re grateful to feel the tips of your toes, and his hand that was touching yours was much warmer then before.

You looked around the room. “Lots of flowers.”

Bruce looked around, “yeah, a few people from the office came to visit.”

“All of these are from a few people from the office?” You asked.

“Uhh… no, some are… the rest are from me.” He rubbed the back of his neck, realizing now just how many there were.

“Wow.” Not turning away you looked at each bouquet. “They are beautiful, thank you.”

He nodded, leaning back in his chair. “You won’t have to worry about your neighbor anymore ether.”

You looked at him curiously. “Do I even wanna know?”

“Nothing but some simple communication.” He said.

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope, I can be very persuasive.”

You laughed, “I guess so, wow…thank you.” You looked down at his hand, still holding yours, you gave it a squeeze. “Thank you”

He laughed, “you already said that.”

“I know, but you did more then you needed. Probably wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you. What happened after I passed out?”

He sighed, “well, you almost hit hypothermia, you probably would’ve been in a worse state but doctors said the body heat helped. It’s amazing you last as long as you did, especially being shot.”

You looked at your shoulder, it was all bandaged up and didn’t really hurt anymore. “And who found us?”

“Alfred, my butler, he got to us in time.”

“Tell him thank you for me.”

Bruce smiled, leaning forward he gave you hand a little pat, “I will.” Standing up, he brought your hands to him lips and gave a gentle kiss. “I should get going, let you rest a bit. I’ll come by later.”

“Oh, Mr Wayne, you don’t have to do that.”

“Bruce. And of course I will, you gotta conference to lead in a couple days.”

You groaned. “I thought you were kidding!”

He laughed, leaning forward he gave a small peck to your forehead. “I was…” he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “It’s actually scheduled for next week.” He teased.

You rolled your eyes, feeling his breathe on your ear started to make your face heat up. Trying to keep from embarrassing yourself even more you brought the blanket closer to your face.

“Goodnight, Bruce.”

He smiled back, “Rest, that’s an order.”

“What are you gonna do fire me?”

“No of course not, I’ll probably just give you so much work you can’t leave your desk.” He winked. Taking his leave out the room.

Your eyes widened. “You’re kidding…right?!?”

He had to be kidding…. Right?

[abigailovesz]

hi pookie!! can you pls write about best friend jj x reader where jj is chilling in readers room while she's cleaning n he's not really paying attention to her just doing his own thing but then reader does something like pick up smth heavy or whatnot n it causes her to let out a groan n jj hears n goes slightly mental pls lol this is such a random request but I hope you can work w it if you're happy 🫶🫶 can end in smut or just jj losing his mind whatever you want !!

cw: fluff sorta?? no smut but i love this! (ty for the request)

jj was splayed out across your bed like he paid rent for it — arms behind his head, one sock off, the other dangling halfway down his foot. A lazy summer breeze fluttered through the open window, carrying in the faint sounds of the beach and the occasional barking dog down the street.

and you, meanwhile, was elbow-deep in cleaning.

So there he was, scrolling through your cracked up phone because his was dead, legs kicking back and forth idly as you moved around the room behind him. you were sorting through clothes, wiping dust off old shelves, muttering under your breath when you found something from middle school.

“JJ, can you at least move your arm so I can get the blanket?”

“Nuh-uh,” he said without looking. “Bed belongs to me now. Colonized it.”

“God, you’re annoying.”

“You love it.”

He grinned at that, but you didn’t respond — too busy now, apparently, dragging your old storage bin from under the bed. JJ only vaguely registered the scraping noise of it on the hardwood floor.

And then — it happened.

A noise. A groan. A low, surprised, and mildly frustrated sound that left your throat like you hadn’t meant to let it out — half effort, half complaint, all involuntary.

JJ’s whole body stiffened. His fingers froze mid-scroll. His head turned immediately like someone had pulled a fire alarm.

you, still crouched, didn’t even notice at first. you were lifting the bin, struggling with it, arms tense and jaw clenched.

“You good?” JJ’s voice cracked halfway through.

you looked up, breathing a little heavier. “Yeah, it’s just—ugh, this thing’s heavier than I remembered.”

He stared at you for a second too long. Something about the way your hair was pulled up messily, how your shirt had ridden up just slightly with the stretch, how your breath hitched on that groan —

His brain short-circuited.

“JJ?” you asked, confused by his silence. “What?”

“..Nothing,” he said quickly, sitting up. “Just—uh. Lemme get that.”

“You? Help? Now I’m worried.”

But he was already off the bed, stepping over the mess like it wasn’t there, eyes maybe not entirely on the box. He bent down next to you, but his voice was weirdly soft now.

“You shouldn’t be lifting heavy crap like this alone.”

“You weren’t worried five minutes ago.”

“Yeah, well…” He scratched the back of his neck. “That was before you made that noise.”

“What noise?”

He swallowed. Looked away. His ears were red. “You groaned. Like.. that kind of groan.”

“Oh my god. JJ.”

“What!?” he laughed, defensive. “Don’t make it weird!”

“You’re the one making it weird!”

He laughed harder now, standing upright with the bin in his arms like it weighed nothing. “I’m just saying.. you make noises like that again, and I can’t be held responsible for what happens.”

“JJ!”

“I’m joking! Kinda.”

you stared at him, heart doing a weird little flutter in your chest you refused to acknowledge.

JJ just smirked, setting the bin down carefully. But when he stood back up, he got a little closer than usual. Close enough for you to feel the warmth of him, the way his tone dipped a little lower.

“You sure you don’t want help with anything else?”

you raised a brow. “Define help.”

[wrongcaitlyn]

Just read chapter 17! It was sooo worth the wait!

It totally flew over my head that nico and will got a apartment (had to go back and reread, lol) but I feel like someone needs make a pintrest board on what there house looks like, what do you imagine?

As soon as I read that will was going to a party I KNEW he was going to trigger nico with alcohol. It was really sweet though how he just kept confessing his love to nico, I couldn't keep giggling at that part

Oh poor will, the dating accusations with ncio are only going to get worse lol. In all honesty I guess he's not going to care that much about people knowing he's bi, but I don't think nico will like the speculation

Nico making the luckey one the seventh track omg we love the cabin 7 refrence!

I am so ready for this new album (my spotify playlists consist of nicos music from this au, not even egsagurating) I'm so happy with the addition of all falls down (I hc that the saxophone was Austin's playing!)

Also will Hazel and or Frank ever make a appearance in this au? If not why? (Genuinely curious)

This was a great chapter! I hope you have so much fun at the eras tour, and I hope you get a good suprose song!

so sorry it took so long for me to respond to this!!! at first i wanted to wait till i was able to make a pinterest board, but then i couldn't really find exactly what i wanted (but still made a board - here's the link!) so i decided i'd just describe it:

it’s a penthouse, and right now it’s veryyyy empty. they moved into it just before will’s next semester started so not much time to decorate!! they kept all like the basic furniture, so i do think they have a sort of living room connected to the kitchen - hold up, now i’m realizing i sorta based that layout off my uncles house. don’t know why i did that but!! we’re going with it. so they have two couches in the “living room” and a tv, leading to a kitchen with the generic appliances + a kitchen island - then i think that there’s a hallway with doors to one of the bathrooms, the guest room, and the studio, and then the master bedroom is also like. right across from the kitchen. if im even making any sense. i actually don’t know what a penthouse looks like so im just going off of pinterest vibes💯💯 anyway i think that eventually, they’ll also def have a lot of (fake) plants (bc lord knows they don’t actually have time to water and take care of plants), and LOTSS OF BLANKETS. i think that like almost every time they go to a target or smth to get smth they actually need, they walk out of the store with at least one blanket. they’re all over the couches, the beds, the chairs, idk why but i just want their apartment to be very very cozy :) aside from that, will 100% has his record collection moved to their room, with a few hanging from the living room- there’s definitely shelves of a bunch of awards or posters and things like that - A PHOTO WALL TOO!! definitely a photo wall. i also think that both nico and will are very messy, at least when they’re busy with something (and they always are) so every countertop and table and desk is filledddd with clutter. like so much. papers and textbooks and headphones and laptops they’re everywhere.

i realize it’s actually really hard to explain my vision for their apartment, which is funny bc i have a very specific layout in my head - and also one for nico’s apartment in so american btw!! so maybe sometime ill figure out how to draw a floor plan just so i can show yall what im thinking, but in the end, that’s the general vibe of it!!

now on to the rest of the ask‼️

will is ADORABLE he’s just such a simp and i love him for that. drunk words r truly sober thoughts in his case

youre 100% right with will not really caring abt people knowing!! i know some people assumed that will was the one being outed, and this was going to lead to some sort of angsty plot line, but seriously- will doesn’t care for that stuff. in his eyes, he’s already out, because he’s come out to all of his friends and the people he knows. the people on twitter are trying to search for something that just isn’t really that important

YES YES YES FOR THE ALL FALLS DOWN HC!!! i forgot to mention the songs and the artists in the end notes but seriously, all falls down by lizzy mcalpine is SOOOO fucking nico. i almost considered it being apollo (which i think it could also be) except the production style just wasn’t rlly very him if u get what i mean?? he’s much more like mainstream pop, and nico is too but he’s less worried abt sticking to a genre and i think it matches him perfectly

hazel and frank WILL be making their appearances soon!! i’ve had their backstories planned for sooo long and i can’t WAIT to finally include them. it’s been a long time coming but i swear it’ll be worth the wait!!

thank you SOO MUCH and i’m sorry again for taking so long to respond to this!! i had an incredible time at the eras tour and got some AMAZING surprise songs so thank you for that!!

[dateamonster]

hello tumblr user dateamonster!! do you have any recommendations for good zombie media? my gf rlly likes zombies but has burned through a lot of the good stuff to be easily found. movies shows anime games etc, anything goes. ty!

oof good question but one im not sure im totally qualified to answer since most of the zombie media i consume is on the campier, sillier side.

i do have some somewhat more Serious zombos i enjoy tho!

the girl with all the gifts is one of my alltime favs (and ive heard the book is good too tho i havent read it) it hits a lot of the beats zombie fans will probably already be familiar with but the main character being a sort of half-zombie (makes more sense in context trust me) as well as a child born into this apocalyptic setting creates a totally new perspective and to me is one of the strongest most thoughtful pieces of work to come out of this sorta subgenre in a long time

the resident evil game series is probably a given. on the off chance she hasnt played it or watched a playthrough, that shits mandatory.

z-nation i think kinda tippytoes the line between stuff fans of, for example, the walking dead will recognize and enjoy in terms of ya know a story focusing more on the interpersonal drama of a group of survivors living through an ongoing apocalypse, and the sillier doesnt-take-itself-too-seriously stuff i personally enjoy, like the ongoing bit where theres just a big ball of entangled zombies rolling across the scenery. its the delicious junk food of tv zombies (though granted ive only watched i think the first few seasons when it was playing nonstop on syfy)

and if you want to join me in enjoying only thee most quality campy schlock..

zombieland saga! literally one of my favorite anime ever! i consider it in this sort of less serious category because the concept of undead idol girls is obviously pretty ridiculous on paper and not gonna be everyones thing, but if the premise even remotely intrigues you, please give it a shot. the story is fun, the characters are loveable and surprisingly complex beneath the typical moe girl archtype exteriors, the humor is on point but doesnt undermine the actually pretty effective emotional moments, and the music fucks! we stan!

z-o-m-b-i-e-s is like c-tier early 2000s dcom realness with a 2018 budget, better choreography, worse songs, questionable moral messaging, all reeking with a dangerous level of green hair dye and party city greasepaint fumes. ive watched it like four times. i cant totally explain it but its got like nostalgic high school musical vibes except more paranormal and much much sillier. dares to ask the question: can cheerleading end all prejudice and bring about world peace? (the answer is yes but theyll be repeating that question for three movies)

zombie prom. very similar to the above in general vibe except the music is honestly kind of good? theres a stage play and a movie which is more or less just a slightly shortened version. in a lot of ways it honestly feels like the fully realized version of z-o-m-b-i-e-s. if you watch the movie ru paul is there, whether thats an incentive or disincentive.

and to wrap it up another game you probably already know about, lollipop chainsaw. yes its problematic but i am honoring my past teenage self who averted their gaze when they walked by it on the shelves in gamestop by saying tara strong sexy cheerleader zombie slayer game is fun and good.

anyway all this to say my taste is very questionable when it comes to this subgenre but i hope u get something out of it. a lot of zombie stories kinda flop for me because the horror element gets watered down into this more actiony survive the zombo apocalypse type thing but the concept of zombies is definitely something that interests me despite this and there are definitely some good pieces of zombie media out there.

oh! and i havent read it yet, but ive heard really promising things about the book manhunt by gretchen felker-martin. not explicitly a zombie story i dont think but draws from the same place for sure. would be worth checking out i think.

[kaylans-imagines]

0. i hate her

pairing: peter b. parker x fem! reader

synopsis: in which y/n hates everything about peter parker, especially the way she can’t really hate him

↳ loosely based on the movie with the same title

warnings: cursing, fluff, a generous amount of angst, peter's an asshole, y/n's an asshole, familial death, incarceration. i don't know if there's more.

chapter warnings: cursing, starts off slow, flash.

series masterlist

*gif credits to the rightful owner*

The brisk air of the changing seasons accompanied Peter as he made his way to the school entrance from the train stop. His headphones sat snuggly inside his ears, playing a song that made the usually lonely journey to school less so. Ned didn’t take the same route as he did, so he had no one to talk to or make the trek to school less boring. He didn’t mind it; it gave him time to think and even finish school work. Still, sometimes he wanted someone by his side so he could discuss whatever was on his mind that day or ask questions whenever an assignment didn’t make sense.

The long ride to the school did give him time to people watch. There were times when he would deduce who could be a possible threat. Other times, he would simply look at people and try to figure out their stories without actually talking to them. The old lady who brought her cat onto the subway had severe separation anxiety caused by her estranged son. The man with exhausted eyes who looked like he was on the brink of passing out on his seat had a newborn daughter at home. And Peter was just trying to get to school, along with the other teenager on the subway. He didn’t talk to him, they were on entirely different wavelengths, but there was an understanding between the two of them. Whenever they saw each other, they would nod their heads in greeting. They would always sit one seat away from one another, and if the other was running late, they would wait.

He made his way up the stairs and towards the school, turning up the volume as a way to tune out the sounds of high school that he hated. The cheery rhymes that left the sounds of the cheerleaders to the arguing of students over who was right; he hated them before the bite, and he especially despised them now that he had hypersensitive hearing. Sighing in annoyance, he looked both ways before crossing the street only to rush forward as a car came barreling down the road.

“I swear to god, Y/N!” he heard her sister, Juliette, shriek, “we almost killed him!”

“But we didn’t. If you’re going to complain about my driving, then you can take the bus, Jules,”

“You almost killed someone!” Peter heard her exclaim. He could feel the way Y/N rolled her eyes.

“It’s only Peter,” she stated, making eye contact with him through the rearview as she let students pass, “who cares if he gets slightly scuffled?”

“You have literal issues,” Julie gasped. The car sped down the road, leaving Peter alone with a slightly elevated heart rate and irritation laced in his bones. It was the first day of school, and he nearly got run over. And by his ex-best friend turned enemy at that. He couldn’t wait to complain to Ned.

Their dynamic had changed, and Peter blamed her. They became friends because of Y/N’s grandmother and May in kindergarten. They were two birds of a feather until halfway towards seventh grade when Y/N became snippy and ruined what Peter thought was their perfect friendship. They drifted apart, and he blamed her for it breaking apart. He watched as she became someone he didn’t know anymore and left him behind. He just didn’t think it was fair for her to act self-righteous when she ruined their relationship.

“You okay, Pete?” Ned questioned as he fell into step with Peter, who was fuming with irritation.

“Yeah, just almost got run over by Midtown’s resident ice bitch,” he gritted. Ned nodded in response. He was friends with both Peter and Y/N once upon a time. Still, after everything she had put them through and the abrupt way she ended their friendship, he sided with Peter and subsequently lost a friend. He figured it was for the best. He wasn’t as resentful as Peter was—his friendship with Y/N hadn’t been built in kindergarten—but he still didn’t appreciate her actions.

“Oh,” he nodded in understanding, “are you okay at least?”

“Yeah, but it did sorta ruin my mood,” Peter confessed. He was having a pretty good morning until his reflexes were put to the test. He woke up on the right side of the bed and had time to eat breakfast with May before she went to work. The walk towards the subway station was nice; he said hi to everyone he usually greeted and even got a muffin from the lady with the three-year-old daughter. Then the subway wasn’t as busy as it usually was, so he wasn’t squashed next to the man with the foul body odor and could actually sit down. All of that happiness came crashing down the second he saw her in her car, looking unapologetic for nearly killing him and then dismissing her sister for chastising her.

“Well, get happy, my arachnid friend, because I heard some exciting news,” Ned smiled, poking him on the arm as they walked to their first class.

“What?”

“You’re top of our class, which means you’re a shoo-in for valedictorian,” Ned said excitedly. Peter grinned at that. All of his hard work would finally be noticed and celebrated. He had been working on greeting his class for four years, doing extracurriculars, and taking on extra projects for grade boosts. Sometimes he even stayed after school to help his teachers grade papers or help the librarian sort the books back into their respective spots on the shelves. It would all be worth it in the end after he finally reached the goal he had set for himself his freshman year.

There was a snag in his plans. While he may have been top of his class, that didn’t mean that he couldn’t be pushed from his place. Y/N Y/L/N was the smartest girl at Midtown. She was everything he wasn’t. She was popular—if the excessive amounts of clubs she was part of were any indication. She was social—everyone talked about the interactions they had with Midtown’s princess. She was everywhere, and nothing Peter was. She was the head of the planning committee, and everyone knew that any school party planned by Y/N Y/L/N never disappointed. Peter couldn’t compete. He found peace in knowing that he was slightly better than her at academics.

The two continued walking in silence, content with the atmosphere they had created after finding out that Peter would finally have something go his way for once. He figured it was the least the universe could do for him. He had lost both parents before he could make memories with them, then he lost his best friend, and then he got bitten by a spider that changed his life; for better or for worse, he didn’t know. Being valedictorian wouldn’t take away the hurt the world inflicted on him, but it would make him feel somewhat better.

With a skip in his step, he walked into class with a grin so large, he didn’t think anything could bring him down. Of course, he thought wrong. His English teacher had to make a day he felt he could turn around into one he wished would end faster.

“It’s about time you all had a project—the topic of discussion, poetry. You will be partnered up and tasked with reading and creating your own poems by the end of the month,” she paused, waiting for her class to stop looking at one another and whispering amongst themselves, “I’ve already chosen your partners, so it would do you all some good to stop getting your hopes up and listen.”

With that, the high schoolers shifted in their seats and gave their attention back to their teacher. She was good at pairing up students who were cordial with one another and worked well together. Friendships usually sparked from her partnering, sometimes even relationships. So Peter, and the rest of the class, weren’t as annoyed as they wanted to be. They knew she wouldn’t let them down. Peter waited eagerly as she listed off students who would be working together. He hoped he got paired up with someone who matched his work ethic or someone he got along with.

“Peter Parker, you will be with Y/N Y/L/N,” and just like that, he hated English class and lost all faith in his teacher. He looked across the room to where the said girl was seated. She was writing in her planner—Peter was sure she was planning Ms. Ingrid’s death—but she looked up when her name was called. She turned her head and met Peter’s eyes, unamused and bored. She shook her head and looked at her planner once again. Peter took that as a sign to do the same and focus on anything other than his rising anger.

Peter watched as everyone moved to meet their partners, many of them happily talking to one another. He was stubborn. He decided that if she wasn’t going to make an effort to push aside whatever hatred she had towards him and talk to him for the sake of their grades, he wasn’t going to. He was going to sit in his seat and read a poem from the packet his teacher had handed out. Just because he had a lousy partner didn’t mean his grade had to suffer. He would complete the project by himself if he had to.

“Mister Parker, last I checked, you were to be working with Miss Y/L/N,” Miss Ingrid quipped as she walked to Peter’s desk with a teasing smile.

“Actually, Miss, I was hoping I could talk to you about that?” He asked. He liked Miss Ingrid. She was understanding and compassionate, and she didn’t talk down to her students as if they were children.

“Something wrong, Peter?” she asked, concerned. Peter felt bad. He knew he was petty, and his favorite teacher didn’t need to be pulled down to his level. But he couldn’t bring himself to work with someone who didn’t want to work with him. That usually meant he was left to do the work by himself and watch the other person still get credit. It infuriated him so much he would rather do the project himself from the start.

“Yeah, um, I can’t work with Y/N,” he muttered, smiling at her with an embarrassed smile. Peter admitted it sounded stupid and childish when said aloud, but he had his reasons.

“And, pray tell, Peter, why not?”

“I just don’t think we would work well together,” he confessed. Seeing the look on her face, Peter was quick to defend himself more, “and I just don’t want to do the work for someone else and have them get credit for doing nothing. So, if it’s alright with you, Miss Ingrid, I would like to work on this on my own.” He was practically begging. Hoping she would agree.

“I’m sorry, Peter, but this is a partner project. To lessen the workload,” she sighed, “besides, I don’t think you have anything to worry about with Y/N; she’s very good at doing her share.” She stood up with those final words and tapped the table before standing up and sending him a smile. He sighed, putting his head down and looking at his desk in annoyance. He looked up when a book landed on his desk. Closing his eyes to keep himself from exploding at whoever shattered his tranquility, he was met with eyes he used to find joy looking into. Now, he never wanted to look into them ever again.

“We’re partners. I don’t like it, you don’t like it, but we have to do it otherwise, our grades will plummet, and you can’t afford that if you want to be valedictorian. So, we’re going to push our difference aside for this one project and do it, so we never have to talk to again,” she said curtly.

That left no room for argument, which caused Peter to nod his head in agreement. She was right; he couldn’t afford to lose the one thing he was looking forward to being. Sighing deeply, he motioned for her to sit down and opened the book she threw on his desk. She took a seat beside him and opened another poetry book, focusing on the words written on the paper and trying to plan their poem out. They had to get a good grade; she didn’t want him to blame her for something else.

Despite his annoyance and hatred towards her, he couldn’t help but glance up from the book he was reading. Of course, he had seen her around, it was hard to ignore one of the most known girls in the school, but he had never taken the time to admire her. His anger and betrayal kept him from doing so. She still had the same gleeful look in her eyes and the confident aura around her. Time had done her well. She had lost her kidlike features, and it was evident that she had matured. He would be a liar if he said she wasn’t pretty, and even that didn’t truly justify it.

When the bell signaled the end of class, Peter quickly grabbed his belongings and left the classroom. He didn’t stop to wait for anyone, much less Y/N. Their only interactions would be in the English room, a controlled space where she couldn’t kill him for so much as breathing in her direction. Walking towards his locker, he heard the noises of people as they navigated the busy halls of the school. Stopping at his locker with a sigh, he leaned his head on the cool metal. The day had been long, and he shrill had six other classes to go to.

A tap on his shoulder made him pick up his head. Y/N stood in front of him, bouncing on her feet as she played with her fingers.

“You left before I could ask when you can meet up. The faster we get this done, the faster we can stop being around one another,” she quipped. “I’m free on Friday after school.”

“I’m not. I have the Stark internship,”

She rolled her eyes at his response, “okay and? We need to get this done so we can go back to never speaking to each other. I’m sure Tony Stark will understand that you need to take one day off to do a school project.”

“Not happening. I don’t know if you know this, but you’re not worth losing the internship over,” he jibed. He missed the look of hurt that flashed on her face. She shook her head and scoffed.

“Well, we need to get this done. Either we work on this stupid project on Friday, or we’re both failing,” she reminded before walking away. Peter groaned and banged his head on the now open door. He ignored the looks he got from his locker neighbors and kept his head buried in the empty space. Friday’s were the days he went into the Avenger’s compound and actively worked in the lab with Tony after he finished his Spider-Man duties; the last thing he wanted to do was infect the compound with her hatred and bad vibes.

He didn’t want to invite her, but he had been working on something with Tony for the past two weeks that he needed to finish. He figured he could get some work done while someone gave her a tour around the facility—probably Steve. He was easy to convince—then he would work on the English project with her and beg father time to go faster. She was right; the quicker they finished their work, the faster he could go back to hating her. With another groan, he picked up his head and closed his locker, rushing after Y/N and grabbing her by the wrist when he caught her before she slipped into her next class.

“Friday. We’ll meet after school in the parking lot and go to the Avenger’s facility. You can drive, right?” she nodded and pulled her hand out of his grip, glaring at him.

“Don’t ever grab me like that again,” she sneered, “but fine, whatever. I have to drop Jules off at home first though, is that gonna be a problem, Peter?” He knew she wasn’t asking him.

“No, whatever,” she nodded curtly and walked in, not sparing him a glance. He shook his head and walked away. Anger seeped into his bones, and annoyance clouded his head. The following weeks were going to be torture. He just knew. There was nothing worse than being forced to work with someone the person despised.

“Hey, Penis Parker!” there are worse things, apparently. He breathed out through his nose and turned around, meeting his eyes. He knew if he ignored Flash, he wouldn’t give up. He was relentless, and his voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

“What, Flash?” he ground out. Flash skidded to a stop beside him with a sick smile on his face.

“I heard from a little birdie that you were partnered up with Midtwon’s resident Princess,” he started.

“Yeah, so?” he questioned. He wanted out of the conversation as soon as possible. He didn’t want to talk to his bully about his enemy. That didn’t sound like a fun Tuesday.

“So, you can help me,”

“One, why would I help you with anything?” he questioned, “and two, I’m going to regret asking, but what could I possibly help you with?”

“Because I have something you might like, and you’re going to help me get Jules Y/L/N to go to the Fall Dance with me,” Peter paused in his step and furrowed his eyebrows.

“Okay, so what does that have to do with me being partners with Y/N? Can’t you just ask Jules?”

Flash snorted, “you’re an idiot, Parker. You don’t just ask the Jules Y/L/N out, okay? Everyone knows that Y/N tells her every negative thing about the guys at Midtown to keep her uninterested and that they’re always together.” He stated.

“I’m still not sure where I fall into this or what you could possibly offer me in return,”

“I’m glad you asked,” Peter rolled his eyes but continued listening, “if you can get Y/N to, I don’t know, fall in love with you so she eases off her ‘I hate the men at Midtown’ rhetoric, then I can swoop in and take Jules to the dance without a hitch.”

“And what do I get in return?”

“Two hundred bucks does wonders for the poor, no?” Flash snarked.

“Three hundred, and you’ve got yourself a deal, Eugene,” Peter smirked. Flash blinked in anger but nodded his head anyway, reaching his hand out and shaking it. Flash walked away and left Peter in the empty hallway, rethinking everything he had agreed to. It was cruel and harsh. Sure, Y/N had stopped being his friend and became a bitch towards him, but he would be playing with someone’s feelings. Then again, three hundred dollars could help May with the bills, and it would be retribution for all the shit Y/N had put him through.

He was going to do it, and he wouldn’t allow himself to feel guilty for it. Because it was her, and she deserved to feel some of the pain she had put him through.

next

join peters taglist

masterlist

taglist: @jackiehollanderr @multiholland @hommyy-tommy​ @visualhollands @wicked-starlight-collector @coni-martina @dummiesshort @nearlydanger9 @selenitawars @slytherinbth @misshale21 @y0ungandfuckingdumb @livinglifethroughfanfic @racheldon @popluckbih @ephemeral-limerences @tomshufflepuff @petersasteria @justafangirlduh @jayhlstead @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @savcks @sahi-raa @xeniarocks@hunnybunimdun @lou-la-lou @aussie-holland @parkerpeterparker2004 @adayasgeorgia @organicpurplepants @sadxaries @bagelofthelord @marlenetough @xxxxdelenaxxxx @racheldon @itsallyscorner @quaksonhehe @slutforsr @stillfindingmyway @determined-overthinker @chipot-lol @alwaaaysadream @tomsgf @thesunflowergirl @Heyitsmeyabitch2004 @noonelikesori @ bxby_riah @woopwoopwoop222 @marauders-whore @Sarcasticallywitty15 @cutesparker  @saraintherain @okaybestfriend @lehmehgeh @joyleenl (if your name is crossed out, its bc i couldnt tag you D: lmk if you want to be taken off the general masterlist or have any name changes ;D)

[thesigilsofbaphomet]

Bringing in a household spirit

I'm starting to work at bringing in a household spirit, and figured I could sorta record/talk about the process here for anyone who's curious or wants to help me out.

Background Stuff

Probably good to start by talking about my "practice," such as it is. In case people who don't already follow my blog happen to see this, I'll start by saying I'm a quasi-theistic satanist. Although I don't particularly agree with the leadership, it's probably best to look at The Satanic Temple as a rough idea of my particular variety of Satanism (except I'm far more leftist than they purport to be). I'm not precisely a theistic satanist, because, well, I don't actually believe in the supernatural. I'm more agnostic, and open to the existence of the supernatural, and hold that the question of belief is somewhat irrelevant. Either it exists or it doesn't. I have a "story" that works for me, and I leave belief out of the whole thing.

My "story" is sort of a personal hypothesis, that there would be a separate spiritual realm, and spirits are largely just another kind of people. I don't believe there is a specific spirit who is, say, Lucifer, rather I figure that human belief, practice, etc creates a sort of energy in the spiritual realm, connected to concepts. It could be visualized as a form of spiritual plant life. The spirits want and can use this energy, and they do so by connecting themselves to the individual concept, taking on the concepts they identify with similar to putting on a mask to embody a figure.

Maybe I'm wrong. But I feel like anything metaphysical is unverifiable at current, so, hey, we'll find out when we die, or something.

I have a preference for working with the practices and imagery of ancestors, both as a way to connect with them, and because it means I can avoid accusations of appropriation if I can point out that I am descended from the culture in drawing on. Unfortunately, my primary heritage is Polish and Italian. Both Slavic and Italic people were christianized so early and so thoroughly that it is incredibly hard to find much info about their pre-christian practices (well, with the exception of Rome, but I don't really vibe with Ancient Rome, so).

The Vessel

To start with, I'm going to create a sort of body for the household spirit to inhabit. I'm planning on sculpting it from clay, and have sketched up a rough design, drawing on elements of the Kikimora, Monaciello, and Giwoitis. Technically, the go to household spirit for Slavic belief is the domovoi, but I don't really vibe with masculinity or spirits that are "just a little guy," hence why I'm drawing primarily on the Kikimora. I plan on incorporating a sort of drawer to put a votive candle in and making the eyes and horns on the statue from translucent clay, with a channel in the sculpture for light to make the eyes and horns glow. The top of the pot that holds the candle can also hold offerings.

The head is mostly drawing on the Kikimora, being a raven head, while the limbs draw on the lizard-like Giwoitis. The pose is a bit inspired by Levy's Baphomet, and I'll probably emphasize that in the sculpting.

I'm currently mulling over mixing a bit of my blood with the clay to create a connection between myself and the vessel, and I'm thinking about writing out houserules on a piece of paper and enclosing that in the sculpture.

The Shrine

Once the sculpture is made and baked, I have one of those box wall shelves from IKEA that I'd bought with the plan of using it for an altar but that... Never really happened lol. So it'll get put on the wall with the vessel inside and it'll become a little shrine for my household spirit.

[hwy-unicorn]

make everything alright, if only for tonight

summary: “I haven’t felt safe with a man in so long,” she breathed, eyes looking down at where her hands were fidgeting with his fingers. “I feel safe with you. And I’m… nervous to mess it up. I’m scared I’m going to mess us up.”

He pressed his lips gently to forehead and she sighed, the tension escaping her at the tender gesture of affection. The affection that she found so rare from others, yet an affection that seemed to come so easily to him in regards to her.

“Nothing you do could ever mess us up.”

“But what if-“

“Shh,” his lips find hers, the kiss so soft and tender, nothing like the sloppy, wet and rushed kisses they shared only moments ago. “I mean it. Nothing. Okay?”

Norma and Alex share an intimate night together

NSFW

Read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33649003

Norma felt devastatingly anxious as she rapidly flicked the light switch, waiting for the brightness to flood the darkness of the room, sighing deeply as nothing happened. She glanced uneasily around the basement, trying to find the flashlight that she knew she had somewhere. Norma was not particularly scared of the dark, but Norman was gone now, and she was alone in the large house. Alex had called her earlier, awkwardly reassuring her that he’d be home late and to go on and have dinner without him, and it was nearing ten pm now, and there had been no word from him since.

She contemplated calling him, but quickly shoved the idea from her brain the moment it appeared. He had done enough for her in these past few days, escorting Norman to Pineview and marrying her a day later so she had insurance to keep him there. She was not about to ask more favors from him, especially one to come home from work so she wouldn’t be afraid. They were married, yes, but not like that.

Her shaky hands flick the flashlight on, sweeping around the dark basement as she made her way back towards the stairs. She couldn’t bear to be in the basement much anymore, the memory of her son pointing a gun at her only a few nights ago, was still fresh in her mind, and though he was safely away and getting treatment, she couldn’t help the unease. The whole house seemed so empty and much too full all at once, and she couldn’t escape the crushing loneliness or extreme unease at all of it.

Norma shut the basement door, fingers gripping the knob tightly as she released a soft sigh into the darkness. Damn it Alex, where are you? The sudden creak of the front door startled her, and she turned, meeting Alex’s equally startled expression.

“Jeez Norma.”

“You’re home,” she couldn’t keep the relief out of her voice, or the small smile from appearing on her face, feeling suddenly so much safer with his presence in the darkness of the house.

“It’s late, why are you up?”

And just like that, the smile was gone as soon as it had appeared, defenses on the rise as she glared haughtily at him. “Because I can be, is that an issue for you?”

“What? No, I just-” she glanced down at the bottle in his hand. “- wanted to make sure you were okay, that’s it-”

“Is that whiskey?”

He looked down at the bottle, as if he just remembered he was carrying it, shrugging somewhat guiltily. “Er… yeah sorta,” he mumbled.

“I have whiskey here, Alex, why didn’t you just drink that?”

“That’s… that’s yours, I just thought-“

She rolled her eyes dramatically, snatching the bottle from his hand and reading the label. “Jesus Alex, you live here,” she made a small noise of disgust as she shoved it back into his hand. “This kind sucks too. Come on, I’ll get you some of the good stuff.”

She was flurrying off into the kitchen before he could protest, and for a moment, he contemplated just going up the stairs and to his room. It had been a long day, much longer thanks to the drunk asshole who decided to drive at eighty five miles before slamming into an electric pole, causing a power outage for half the town. He decided against it when her voice called out to him from the kitchen, not wanting to hurt her feelings, nor make her upset.

He stopped in the doorway, watching uselessly as she stretched up on her tiptoes and blindly grabbed at the array of glassware that lined her top shelves, unable to help the wandering of his eyes over her legs as the skirt of her dress rose higher at her actions. He quickly averted his gaze the minute she was back down on steady feet, glasses in hand.

“Sorry it’s so dark,” she said, haphazardly waving one of the cups around. “These were all the candles I had. Do you have any idea what happened to the power? I checked the breaker but it’s not that.”

“Yeah, some guy hit a pole. Power should be back up in a few hours.”

“What an asshole.”

He chuckled. “Yeah.”

She slid a glass over to him, before taking a seat at the table, looking up at him expectantly, waiting for him to sit across from her. It was late, much too late to be having a glass of whiskey and awkwardly chatting with his new wife, but he sat down anyway.

“Was he drinking?” she asked, and it took a moment for Alex to realize that she was still talking of the driver he mentioned, before nodding. “Did he die?”

Alex spluttered out an anxious laugh. “Jesus, no. He’s alive. He’s in the hospital now, he’ll likely have a concussion, but besides that and a hefty jail time, he’ll be okay.”

She nodded, and silence fell over them once more, the lack of noise feeling heavy and uncomfortable, mostly because Alex and Norma didn’t do this. They didn’t have quiet moments together; their experiences with one another were always a confrontation, a clash of interests. And now they were married, and sitting in her dark kitchen, all alone in her house.

He prepared to excuse himself up to his room, knocking back the whiskey in his glass like a shot, when she spoke again. “I called Pineview, but they still won’t let me visit. They won’t even tell me anything at all!”

“I’m sure he’s okay, Norma. You can go see him tomorrow, can’t you?”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I just wish they could’ve told me something. I mean, I’ve been a mess over it, over him, and I just…I’m his mother! They should tell me, right? I’m his guardian! He lives with me, I take care of him.”

“He’s eighteen,” Alex shrugged, and she sighed dramatically. “He’s an adult.”

“Yeah, that’s what they said,” she muttered, clearly annoyed that Alex had no way to fix her small dilemma, and he almost wanted to laugh at the idea that Norma was hoping for a different answer, hoping that Pineview’s withholding of information about her son was somehow illegal, and that there was a way for Alex to fix it. It’s so characteristically Norma, turning to Alex for help when she doesn’t receive the answer she wants elsewhere.

“Norman’s a reasonable kid. I’m sure he’s adjusting well,” he said, hoping his words offered her some sort of comfort. If they did or didn’t, she didn’t let it show, pouring more whiskey into both of their glasses as soon as hers finished.

“We’ve never been apart for so long before,” she muttered sadly, fingers dancing ever so lightly along the rim of the glass. “When he was little, he used to get so sad when he had to go to school. He always said he missed me too much. And now he’s going to be gone for god knows how long, and I don’t know if I can-”

“Norma,” he reached across the table, his hand curling around hers before he could stop himself, effectively cutting her off. “You’re doing the right thing.”

She let out a soft, shaky breath. “I hope so.”

He made to take his hand back, feeling like he was slightly overstepping with the soft amount of contact, but she stopped him, turning her hand over and wrapping her fingers around his. He looked up at her, taking in her wide, teary eyes and trembling bottom lip.

“I don’t want to be alone,” she breathed. “Will you stay up with me? Just for a little bit?”

He should say no. He had work in the morning, and it was already later than he was used to, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to deny her. Not when she was looking at him so sadly, holding his hand so tightly. Not when she was feeling so lonely without her son in a house so big and empty.

“Sure, Norma.”

She brightened for just a moment, before standing abruptly and gathering their glasses and her newly opened bottle of whiskey into her hands, heading towards the living room, clearly expecting Alex to follow.

“I would say we could watch a movie but…” she sighed, setting the things on the coffee table and flopping back onto the couch.

“No power,” he said and she nodded.

“No power.”

He sat on the armchair by the couch, keeping himself away and out of her space in case she became uncomfortable. He couldn’t imagine that it was easy having another man in the house, one she didn’t know very well. Sure, they were acquaintances, and had helped each other out before, but they didn’t know much about one another.

“We could talk,” she offered, before instantly crinkling her nose. “We aren't very good at talking.”

“We aren’t," he laughed.

She smiled softly, deciding to busy herself with slowly filling each of their glasses fuller, despite them already being half filled.

“But we’re married now,” she said, sliding the glass towards him, the liquid sloshing out and down the side. “We need to practice.”

She was teasing him, keeping her tone light and giggly, even though she felt anything but light. Alex was tense, keeping his responses short and Norma felt a sinking in her stomach. She knew her and Alex weren’t exactly friends, barely even acquaintances really, but still, she hoped to find comfort in him tonight, to talk and laugh like they had done this for years, and for her to just forget about where Norman was and what he was doing. And it didn’t seem that Alex really felt like talking about much of anything.

Until, “Alright, then what do married people talk about?”

She smiled, biting down on her bottom lip to suppress it, relieved he was playing along. She thought for a moment. “Taxes.”

He huffed out a laugh. “Taxes?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “You know, if the taxes are too high.”

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t think that’s what married couples talk about.”

“Pfft, I’ve been married twice, Alex. I know what married couples talk about.” Granted, Norma didn’t talk much about taxes with neither John nor Sam. She was never involved in the financial interests, except for when she was in trouble for spending too much money.

“Well, I’ve been married, and we definitely didn’t talk much about taxes.”

“Oh my god. You were married?”

Alex laughed. “The surprise in your tone hurts!”

“No!” Norma giggled, sitting up and criss crossing her legs underneath her. “No! I just… okay yeah. I’m a little surprised… is it anyone I know?”

“God no. It was forever ago.” Norma nodded, placing her chin in her hands, and he realized she was waiting for him to continue. He hadn’t really talked about his marriage with anyone before, and felt suddenly nervous to share a part of his past with her. “We were young, erm, it was when I was in the marines. She was the sister of one of my buddies. Met and married three weeks later, divorced six months after that-“

“Aww no! What happened?” Norma pouted dramatically.

“We just didn’t work. It was a mistake in the first place,” he shrugged, before taking another drink of his much too full glass of whiskey. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What about your marriages?”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh… well. My high school boyfriend got me pregnant and we ran off and had Dylan, and when he was around two, I met Norman’s father, Sam. I… I thought I was in love, and we had an affair and... and Dylan’s father left me and I married him. He was… he was an asshole.”

Norma huffed out an anxious laugh, wringing her hands together nervously as she spoke about her previous marriages with a sort of nonchalance that wouldn’t be expected when talking about an abusive relationship. If anything, Alex assumed he’d hear some sort of malice in her tone, assumed she’d be rightfully angry over what was done to her back then, but heard nothing of the sort, instead an almost sad acceptance over the previous hardships of her life.

“I’m sorry,” Alex murmured, and she instantly shrugged, waving her hand as if it were no big deal.

“No, it’s okay. Sam’s dead and gone and he can’t hurt me from beyond the grave.”

“But he did before,” Alex said seriously, their eyes meeting, and Norma swallowed hard, cringing at the short flash of memories that disappeared before they could take any real hold. He did before.

“Yeah, he… he hated me,” she trilled out a little fake laugh. “I must be a pain to be married to. So,” she held up her glass, “good luck.”

It went silent again, and Norma found herself lost in thought, almost anxious over what she had revealed to Alex. He had no real way of knowing that Sam used to hurt her; he just assumed and she just confirmed, for no real reason other than that she felt she would have no judgment from him, and knew he wouldn’t press for information if it became too much for her. Perhaps that’s why she found herself suddenly wanting to tell him everything.

Can you imagine that?” she asked suddenly, sitting up straighter. “I mean… I mean I was married to the guy for twenty years. Twenty years of my life were spent with a man who hated me.”

Norma flopped her head back dramatically on the cushions, sighing heavily up at the ceiling. She listened to the soft creaking of the armchair as Alex stood, making his way over and plopping down heavily on the couch next to her. He laid his head over the back of the sofa, next to hers, and she breathed deep, the closeness of their bodies making her tense with…. something that she couldn’t quite name. Anticipation? Maybe. Nothing would happen though, she was sure of that. Alex didn’t like her like that , and she didn’t like him like that either.

Liar.

Okay, maybe she liked him like that a little bit. But not much. Not enough to have sex with him on her sofa in her living room. She could feel Alex staring at her, and it took everything to not turn her head to look back at him.

“He didn’t deserve you,” Alex finally said, his voice barely a whisper, and Norma felt a knot in her throat all of the sudden.

“I deserved him. It. All of it,” she replied once the knot had loosened, and Alex shook his head, but she didn’t let him speak anymore. “I stayed. I should’ve left after the first time he hit me but I didn’t. I stayed. I stayed with a man who hated me, who scared me and hurt me, and with a man that couldn’t even make me-“ she bit her lip then, silencing the words that she almost let leave her lips, suddenly remembering who she was talking to, wondering for a moment if the glass and a half of whiskey really had inebriated her enough to almost let those words spill.

“Couldn’t what?” he asked innocently, and her face flushed. She tore his gaze away from his and sat up, resting her elbows on her knees, groaning. “Norma?”

“Don’t act dense,” she snapped and he frowned, sitting up next to her.

“What? I-I’m not. What are you talking about?"

She turned back around to face him, eyes roaming over his face at the pure confusion in his gaze, seemingly not understanding where Norma’s innocent but also not so innocent sentence was leading. “Oh, so you just are dense,” she teased, laughing anxiously, as he frowned, staring at her flushed cheeks and nervous smile while she fidgeted with her fingers.

“Alex,” she sighed. “He couldn’t… make me…” she dragged out the words, giving him the opportunity to fill in the blanks as he stared at her, trying to understand what she meant, but drawing a blank. “Oh my god!” she groaned. “He couldn’t make me cum.”

His silence felt different now, as he tore his gaze away from hers, face flushed as he covered it. “Oh god. Norma I’m sorry, I didn’t- I wasn’t- I-I-“

She couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that escaped her at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. Here she was, at nearly eleven pm at night, with her husband-but not like that- telling him all about her shitty, dead, ex-husband who couldn’t make her cum.

“Oh god. What are we doing?” she laughed. “What am I even saying?” she picked up the whiskey bottle, giving it a good shake. “Have I really drank that much?”

He couldn’t help but laugh with her, groaning slightly as he ran his hands down his face.

There was a brief moment of silence after their laughter subsided, before Alex finally turned to look at her again. “Like ever?” he asked, and she should be offended that he hadn’t strayed from the topic, but couldn’t really seem to care anymore.

“Never,” she confirms. “But to be fair, no one else could either.”

She looked at him, smiling sheepishly at his shocked expression. This was not a conversation they should’ve been having, it was drawing into dangerous territory, pushing a boundary that neither had crossed before. Norma blamed it on the lack of sleep from the past few days, but deep down knew that it’s for reasons other than that too.

“No one?” he asked. “Shelby?”

“Pfft, Zack?” she laughed. “Yeah right. He was young and he didn’t care.”

Alex’s shock had faded into something so sad that Norma couldn’t bear to look at him anymore. She didn’t want him to feel sorry that none of her previous partners had ever cared, nor taken the time to try and give her any pleasure. It was almost embarrassing, and she felt broken.

“It’s fine, really,” she said quickly, as she averted her eyes. “I can take care of it myself.”

She startled as his hand rested atop hers, meeting his eyes briefly before looking back down at their hands. Hers seemed so small in comparison. “You shouldn’t have to.”

The conversation had gone much too far now, crossing over to the point of no return and there was no turning back, no unsaying what she said, no way to take back everything she had admitted to him in her second day of barely any sleep state of mind. She should’ve expected his hand coming to touch her face, but somehow didn’t, somehow still startling just slightly as she met his eyes. His thumb traced along her jaw, down over her bottom lip, his eyes following the path his touch was mapping out along her skin, and she let out a shaky breath.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, as he leaned in impossibly closer than before. “Alex…”

His lips touched hers, just briefly, not even truly a kiss. Just a soft brush that left her wanting more, but knowing she had to stop him. Alex didn’t like her like this. Her hands came up to touch his shoulders, giving in for a just moment longer as she prepared herself to deny him, for not only her own sanity, but his as well. He didn’t like her like this.

She didn’t get the chance to, however, because his next words have her whimpering, unable to catch her breath. “I can make you cum,” against her lips and she shuddered deliciously in his arms.

“No you…” another brush of his lips, another gasp, another shudder. “You don’t want me.”

“I do,” he breathed. “I do.”

“No,” her hands push slightly on his shoulders, grip firm, keeping his body at somewhat of a distance even if his lips haven’t left hers. “You’re saying that now because you don’t have any other options right now. I’m here, I’m convenient but I’m not what you want.”

He pulled back to look at her, hands cupping her face and thumbs tenderly stroking her cheekbones. His gaze was so serious, yet so soft, and Norma found herself wanting to get lost in his eyes forever.

“You are what I want, Norma. I’ve always wanted you.”

Her breath hitched at the confession, but she refused to let herself believe it. She couldn’t let herself believe it, because Alex was a good man. So incredibly good, and despite their arguments and bickering and how much he got under her skin, he deserved so much more than what she had to offer.

So she shook her head vehemently again, feeling the need to tear herself apart so he didn’t want her anymore, ever again.

“No I… I can’t cum. I won’t be able to, I-“

“You don’t know that, because no one’s ever even tried.”

He was right. No man ever had the desire to touch her in ways that would make her feel on fire, no man had ever wanted to bring her to orgasm, to watch her gasp and shudder and crash and fall. No man before him.

“I’m- I’m all gross Alex, I haven’t showered in like three days. I’m not wearing makeup, and my underwear is entirely unsexy, and I’m not going to be good enough to-“

She was cut off as Alex suddenly grabbed her hand, his grip around her wrist tight, yet not painful. Somehow firm, yet gentle all at once, and she gasped when he pressed it against the hardness in his jeans. His hand cupped the back of hers, his fingers stroking ever so lightly along her dainty ones as she let out a shuddering gasp, softly squeezing him.

“Look at what you do to me, Norma,” she stared down at her hand over him, sucking in soft breaths to keep herself grounded as he watched her react to such intimacy. Alex pressed his forehead against hers. “Feel what you do to me and try telling me again that I don’t want you. That you’re not good enough. Fuck… Norma. You’re all I’ve ever wanted."

She closed her hand around him again, applying a bit more pressure, as his head fell to her neck, kissing and nipping at her soft and sensitive skin. She’s almost surprised at the choked out gasp he let out on the crook of her neck. Norma knew she was attractive, knew she was good at sex and had a knack for driving men insane, but never had she thought that Alex would want her like this. She never thought he’d want to touch her as softly and tenderly as he was now, or want to kiss her in places that made her shiver in his arms.

Norma saw herself as nothing but a nuisance to him. Sure, he was attracted to her, and she had imagined that they’d probably have sex eventually, but she’s genuinely surprised at how he was touching her, the gentle stroke of his fingertips being so fleeting that she’s almost overwhelmed. And not only that, but Alex had expressed a desire to bring her pleasure. Had whispered that he wanted to bring her to release while he brushed his lips so soft over her own. Had insisted that he’d at least try while she was convinced she couldn’t.

“I want to make you feel good. If this is what you want, if you’ll let me… I want to.”

God, she wanted to just as badly. “Not here. Upst-” she gasped, letting out a nervous little giggle as he suddenly stood and swept her up into his arms. She let her head fall into the crook of his neck, pressing soft kisses against the sensitive skin as he carried her up the stairs and backed up into her room.

He set her on her feet the minute they crossed through the threshold, pressing his lips to hers in an entirely uncoordinated and sloppy way, both breathing hard as they tried to find a rhythm and balance to the frantic kisses. Her hands dropped to his belt, trembling as she began to undo it, looping the leather out through the rings, the metal clinking together as she struggled. His hands suddenly came down, covering hers and she let out a soft gasp and she met his gaze, his eyes kind.

“We don’t have to do this.”

Norma blinked up at him blankly for a moment, thinking for a moment that he’s changed his mind, before realizing that he sees her, shaking and nervous, unable to simply undo his belt, as a sign that she does not want this. That it has gone too far, and that she is afraid to take it back. Her tongue darted out quickly to wet her lips as his gaze softened slightly at her nervous little actions.

“I want to,” she breathed, reaching for his belt once more, but his hand stopped hers again, looking entirely unconvinced. “I’m just… nervous,” she said finally, realizing Alex wouldn’t accept her answer without some sort of explanation.

“I haven’t felt safe with a man in so long,” she breathed, eyes looking down at where her hands were fidgeting with his fingers. “I feel safe with you. And I’m… nervous to mess it up. I’m scared I’m going to mess us up.”

He pressed his lips gently to forehead and she sighed, the tension escaping her at the tender gesture of affection. The affection that she found so rare from others, yet an affection that seemed to come so easily to him in regards to her.

“Nothing you do could ever mess us up.”

“But what if-“

“Shh,” his lips find hers, the kiss so soft and tender, nothing like the sloppy, wet and rushed kisses they shared only moments ago. “I mean it. Nothing. Okay?”

Norma let out a soft sigh into his mouth, nodding frantically as his hands swept up and down her sides, the pressure intoxicating. They land on her hips, rest there as they continue to kiss, soft and slow and sensual now that the nerves have subsided a little. Norma knew she was safe, knew that Alex would stop the minute she said, knew that even if he couldn’t make her cum that she would be happy solely for knowing that he wanted to try, and that he had given her safety to explore.

Her hands gripped the fabric of his shirt, pulling him back towards the bed, flopping down ungracefully, him following after her, his hand shooting out to catch himself before his entire weight flounced on top of her. She moved her lips down his jaw, breathing out a soft laugh into the skin as he tried to undo the buttons of her shirt with one hand, finding it harder to do than he anticipated.

“I’ve got it,” she murmured sweetly, giving him a soft smile as she undoes the buttons, pulling the shirt off her with a practiced ease.

She slid further up the bed, realizing their half standing, half lying position was entirely inconvenient, and he followed, leaning down to press soft, sweet kisses against her newly exposed skin. He trailed his lips back up her neck, kissing along her jaw, stopping every so often to suck deliciously on her sensitive skin while his hands fumbled behind her for the clasp of her bra, finding it hard to locate when she was pressed against the pillows, and he couldn’t help but blush at his seeming failure to undress Norma.

Norma laughed up at him, not unkindly, but enough to make Alex feel slightly more embarrassed as she pushed his hands away. “It’s on the front.”

“Oh,” he muttered, watching as she undid the bra, sliding her arms out of the straps.

“Are you going to be able to unzip my skirt?” she teased, as she began to undo the buttons of his shirt. “Or will you need some help with that too?”

“Oh shush,” he replied, moving her hands away from the buttons of his shirt to cup her breast in his hand, thumb gently rolling over her nipple, causing her to gasp just softly. “You’re beautiful.”

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” she countered, making to resume her work of button undoing, when he leans down, sucking the soft peak of her breast into his mouth. “ Oh.”

Her head fell back against the pillows, whimpering softly as his tongue swirled around the sensitive bud of her nipple. Her fingers threaded through his hair, tugging his head back up towards her and clashing their lips together, sloppy and untethered, and she finally undoes the rest of the buttons of his skirt, pulling it off of him and throwing it haphazardly on the floor, her dainty hands running up and down his chest.

His hand slides down her stomach and around her backside, pulling at the zipper of her skirt. She lifted her hips, kicking the flowy fabric off, spreading her legs as he rested his thigh between hers, applying pressure where she needed it most, and she gasped. She rolled her hips against his thigh, letting out a soft mewl at the pleasure she was finding from simply rocking against him.

“Jesus,” he murmured, watching her head fall back onto the pillows. “God… you’re so beautiful.”

“Can you- oh- ” she shuddered deliciously as he gently rolled her nipple between his fingers, relishing in the soft moans she was granting him. “I want… I…”

“What do you want?”

“I want you inside me. Please, Alex.”

He moved his leg from where it was slotted between hers, feeling instantly sorry as she let out a little whine from the loss of contact, hoping to quickly make up for it as he undid his belt, kicking his jeans off his legs, as she does the same with her underwear, before immediately taking his place on top of her. Her hand reached down between them, pumping him softly into her hand, before lining him up at her entrance, pulling at his shoulder with her other hand, desperately trying to get him to lean down into her.

“Are you sure?” he breathed, hand cupping her face tenderly.

“I’m sure,” she whimpered. “Alex, I swear if you make me wait any longer-” she gasped, the threat dying on her lips as he slowly and gently slid into her, his thumb finding her clit and rubbing soft fluttery circles to help her relax.

“Are you okay?” he asked, almost concerned at her quick little pants.

“Yes,” she breathed. “You feel so good.”

He thrusted into her gently, causing another whimpering moan to spill from her lips, while his thumb continued it’s teasing little dance over her clit. “Yeah?”

“More. Please, I need more.”

He thrusted into her again, finding a steady and easy pace that she seemed to enjoy, gasps and whimpers and soft moans spilling from her lips, as her hands clutched onto him, trying to keep herself grounded amidst the overwhelming sensations. Alex suddenly increased the pressure on her clit, and she gasped as he rubbed his thumb around her in hard circles, her legs falling open easily, practically melting into the sheets below her as her release slowly built inside of her.

“Alex,” she whimpered. “I- I need- faster.”

He complied, groaning as he began to thrust into her at a faster pace, feeling as if he could come undone at any moment, willing himself to hold back. “God, Norma…”

She felt the steady pressure building inside of her, and she gasped, holding onto him tighter as his fingers began moving faster over her. The pressure continued to build, faster and faster, before she broke open, coming undone with a sharp gasp and a shaky moan, his fingers continuing as she rode through it, and slinking away from her when she became too sensitive and pushed it away. Alex followed not long after, thrusting sloppily a few times, before slipping out of her and finding his release on the sheets below, instantly feeling bad for dirtying her bed, but not wanting to cum inside her without permission.

“Shit. Your sheets-”

She breathed out a soft little giggle, brushing her hair from her eyes. “I don’t care about my sheets.”

He dipped his head down, pressing his lips soft against hers, laughing with her into the kiss as he brushed errant tendrils of blonde hair sweetly away from her face, hand cupping her cheek tenderly. Light suddenly flooded the room, and they broke apart, giggling softly to one another.

"Power's back."

"I see," she replied. "You know, if we just would've waited a bit longer than we wouldn't have to fumble around in the dark."

"I don't think I could've waited any longer," he admitted, and she laughed again.

Norma was not sure what this meant for them, where they would go from here, but she couldn’t bring herself to dwell on it any longer, not when he was touching her so softly. Not when he gently cleaned her off, patting a warm cloth between her thighs, and kissing her forehead gently. Not when he changed her sheets, not when he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her with ease, flopping back onto the bed while they both laughed. And especially not when he wrapped her up gently in his arms, holding her close until they fall asleep.

[h2bakugou]

Hi there! Can I please request the main three + Kirishima with an s/o who has younger siblings and is used to them buttering them up thinking it’ll help them avoid getting into trouble so when their boyfriend compliment them they instinctively turn to him and is all like “Alright you demons, what did you do this time?” Before realizing that it’s just their boyfriend? Thanks!

a/n: hi!! of course! this request is super cute, having siblings is both a treasure and a nightmare lmfao. thank you for the request love!!

headcanon: them with an s/o who has younger siblings

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: fluff, swearing

»»————-　★　————-««

izuku midoriya

»»————-　★　————-««

Having younger siblings is truly a blessing. Sometimes.

You love your siblings, you do, but they are pure chaos. 

“Did we ever tell you how pretty you are?” Your younger sister’s voice rang out. You were just shopping for some snacks and they wanted to come with you.

You knew they’d done something. They always buttered you up so you wouldn’t get mad. But no matter what they did, you’d still love them. Being stern was just a way of teaching them, you wouldn’t go as far as actually hurting them if they did something bad.

“What’d you do this time?” You question, turning around to eye both your younger sister and brother.

Covered almost head to toe in what you assumed was baking flour, your brother and sister smiled back up at you. You let out a small laugh before returning to your older sibling instinct.

“What were you guys even doing?!” You placed the snack you’d picked up in your basket and sighed, taking both of their hands and walking over an aisle where the opened bags of flour laid, covering the floor.

“We wanted to get the sugar you needed! So we stood on the shelves to get it.” Your younger sister spoke softly, smiling.

“I see. Well next time, if you can’t reach something, ask first okay? You could get hurt if you fall back.” 

No matter the situation, you always try to make the moment a teachable lesson. They’re still growing, they’re going to make mistakes. That’s okay.

If there’s anything you can do, you just want to teach them the right way to do things, or at least the best of the options.

“We will!” Your brother promises, hugging you, coating you in flour from your waist down.

“You’re going to need to pay for the bags of flour.” A store employee speaks, already bringing the equipment to clean it up.

“Of course, here you go.” You hand over the money and head to check out, bringing your flour-coated siblings along.

“We’re gonna get a bubble bath after this!” Your younger sister spoke up, which started your brother.

“Bubble bath! Bubble bath!”

It’s a long day of cleaning up before you can relax.

You sometimes forget you’re at the dorms. Despite not actually having your siblings around, you still feel like whipping Mineta into shape is about as close as you can get.

It never works, but maybe one day it will.

“You look beautiful, (Y/n).” The comment totally throws you off. And you’re quick to come with a response.

“What’d you demons do this time-”

Realizing it was Izuku who complimented you, you immediately started to feel flustered.

“What?!” Izuku’s a bit confused. You waved your hands and eventually hid your face.

“My younger siblings always butter me up and compliment me when they’ve done something. I forgot I was at the dorms for a second.” You laugh. Midoriya smiles and gives you a hug.

“That’s so cute. I didn’t know you had siblings.” You hug Midoriya back and sigh.

“I love them to death, they’re little shits but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

»»————-　★　————-««

katsuki bakugou

»»————-　★　————-««

Your younger brother reminds you a lot of Bakugou. He’s loud and obnoxious, but he can be sweet.

It doesn’t change the fact that the little devil practically butters you up when he knows he’s done something to get in trouble.

For example, the time he put superglue on his teacher’s chair. 

“You know I love you so so much and I wouldn’t have anyone else be the best older sibling?” Your brother smiled at you, even handing you a store-bought cupcake.

“Something seems...suspicious. Is there hot sauce in this cupcake?” You eye the cupcake.

“No.” Your brother laughs.

“What’d you do then?” You quirk an eyebrow up at him, waiting for what line of trouble you’d have to get him out of now.

“I sorta put superglue on my teacher’s chair and now they’re going to call home and I don’t want mom to be mad at me, it was just a harmless prank and no one got hurt!” Your brother explained. Despite wanting to burst out laughing, you knew where he was coming from. 

“Alright. I’ll talk to them, and I imagine I’ll have to sign something too?” You set the cupcake down on the counter and look at your brother.

“Yup!”

You extended a hand for a high-five which your brother joyfully completes.

“Good prank, but let’s not do it again. I might not always be able to pick up the calls made home.” You gave him a hug, ruffling his hair.

“Thank you for being honest with me.” You smiled.

“You’re welcome!”

Your brother, while being a little devil, was honest. You’d tried your best to help teach him while he was growing up that honesty was a good quality in someone strong, and your brother wanted to be the strongest.

Answering the phone call, you sat beside your brother, telling them how it wouldn’t happen again and that if need be, you’d replaced the pants his teacher had been wearing that day as a sort of apology.

Also signing the note that ‘proper punishment’ would be distributed for his actions, you packed it up in his bag for the next day.

Being in the dorms was honestly a bit lonely. You loved your brother, albeit he was chaotic, you missed him coming to you with his tales of how he was king of the schoolyard.

Walking down the seemingly empty hallway toward your dorm, a compliment threw you off.

“Did I ever tell you how much I loved you?” The voice didn’t belong to your brother but your first instinct was to ask what the hell he’d done now.

“What’d you do this time?” You turn and see your blonde boyfriend staring at you with a funny look on his face.

“I mean uh...hey Bakugou!” You can feel your face heat up.

“I was saying I loved you, I didn’t do anything.” Bakugou confronted you. You nodded and let out a laugh.

“I have a brother who says the same thing to me when he gets into trouble.” You lay your arms across his shoulders.

“He reminds me a lot of you actually. He wants to be the strongest hero ever one day.” You smile, knowing that Bakugou’s goal was pretty close to that.

“Oh really? Well, he’ll have to surpass me!” 

“I think you’d really get along with one another. He’s a secret All Might fanboy too.”

»»————-　★　————-««

shoto todoroki

»»————-　★　————-««

Todoroki knows what it’s like to have siblings, but being the youngest himself, he wasn’t aware of what it was like to be an older sibling.

You, on the other hand, were an older sibling. You had a younger sister that was quite devious.

She usually found herself getting into trouble out and about, whether it be in school, or whenever you went out to the store with her, she always caused some chaos.

Like the time she ‘laid a trap’ in one of the grocery store aisles.

She’d spilled some water and waited for someone to come and walk through the puddle. But she was caught before someone did something.

The store attendant brought her over to you where she proceeded to butter you up.

“You’re so beautiful, I love you so much you know that right?” She smiled, grabbing onto your hand.

“Oh yeah, what’d you do this time?” You ask, turning your attention toward her.

“She spilled water all over the floor which could’ve lead to an accident. I’m going to have to ask you both to check out and leave.” The attendant wasn’t happy. You were a little upset but you’d make this moment memorable.

“Just a second please.” You spoke to the attendant before bending down to your sister’s level.

“Why did you spill water on the floor?” You asked, waiting for her response.

“I was laying a trap!” 

“Yes, but what could’ve happened if someone got caught up in the trap?” You asked, holding her hands as she starts to come to a realization.

“They could’ve gotten hurt.” She speaks softly.

“Mhmm, and would you want someone to get hurt?” You tilt your head to the side.

“No. Only bad guys hurt people.” She nodded, her smaller fingers looping with yours.

“That’s right, and you want to be a hero one day right? Like All Might?” You smile.

“Yup! He’s the coolest!” 

“Alright, so no more laying traps! Let’s apologize okay?” You turn to the store attendant who seems almost impressed by how fast you’d turned the interaction to positive instead of negative.

“I’m sorry Mr. Man! It won’t happen again! I’m gonna be the next All Might!” Your sister cheers as you head out of the store, not buying anything.

You take your sister with you to the dorms on one of your days off. You promised she could meet All Might, and while they’re playing in the common room, you completely blank at a compliment made to you.

“You’re so beautiful.” Todoroki says softly.

“What’d you do- Sho!” You try not to embarrass yourself. You look over and see that your sister is still playing with All Might, holding his action figure and zipping around imaginatively.

“I didn’t do anything. Why do you ask?” Shoto hugs you briefly before looking at you with concern.

“No no, my sister usually compliments me before telling me she got into trouble. I blanked for a second.” You reassure him that he hadn’t done anything. You give him a quick kiss on his cheek before looking back to watch your sister.

“I didn’t know you had a sister until today.” Todoroki smiles, holding your hand.

“She’s a little rascal but I love her. You’re the youngest of your family aren’t you?” You nudge him.

“I am-”

“Awe you’re the baby!” You hug him, poking his cheek and teasing him lightly.

“I’m 16, not an infant-”

»»————-　★　————-««

eijiro kirishima

»»————-　★　————-««

Your little brother is quite spirited. He’s chaotic but as sweet as can be.

But he never fails to butter you up when he gets into trouble.

“You’re so pretty, red really is your color!” He smiles as he stands before you, holding something behind his back.

“Mhm, what trouble did you find yourself in now?” You ask, sitting down in a chair at your kitchen table.

“I need someone to sign my report card, and my grades are low.” He says softly. He’s a bit sad, and for some reason, you feel upset.

“I can sign it for you, but why are your grades low?” You ask, looking at his report card. His math grade was dangerously close to failing, and his science grade wasn’t too high either.

“I fell behind.” He speaks quietly, ready for a scolding.

“I’ll sign your report card, but can you promise me something?” You ask, getting a pen ready.

“Mhm!” He lights up, a half-smile on his lips, still worried he’s about to get yelled at.

“If you need help, ask for it. There’s nothing wrong or unmanly about asking for help.” Quoting your boyfriend, you feel a bit silly. You sign off on his report card and hand it back to him, ruffling his hair.

“I have a study group you can come to if you want, you could meet Eijiro!” You know it’s probably a bit overwhelming to study with a bunch of high schoolers while being so young, but you’re positive Bakugou would help him out.

“Yes! I wanna go!” He smiles, vibrating with excitement.

On the day of the study group, Kirishima compliments you like he usually does. But being so focused on picking your brother up for the study group you space out.

“You’re so pretty, and wow red is so you’re color!” Kirishima comments, his favorite red sweater resting over your shoulders.

“What’d you do this time...” You freeze when you notice it’s Kirishima complimenting you instead of your younger brother.

“I just complimented you is all!” Kirishima smiles, his toothy grin making you smile as well. You hug him and laugh.

“I know, my brother tends to call me pretty when he gets into trouble. He’s coming to the study group tonight actually.”

“Awesome! wait you have a brother?” Kirishima’s excited, probably more excited to meet your brother than he is.

When you return with your brother and arrive at the study group, everyone is happy to meet him.

“This is Ei, my boyfriend.” You introduce your brother to Kirishima.

“What’s up, little man?!” Kirishima gives your brother a fist bump and smiles.

“I see why you chose him.” Your brother comments. You turn red, shaking his head.

“He’s about as red as you are!” Your brother teases you, poking fun at your blush. You sigh and sit down with him, showing him the basics.

“Bakugou can you help me with number four?” Your brother bravely approaches the blonde who isn’t exploding for once.

It’s the most calm you’ve seen Bakugou in a while. But your brother learns a lot from him, and from Kirishima. 

Kirishima loves your little brother and he’s happy he got to meet him.

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

[spiltscribbles]

Im so excited!!!! Here’s a little “It’s always been you. You and only you.” sprinkled in with Green-Eyed Epiphany

~Notes: OMFG bubby!!!! You are so beyond adorable! Thank you So SO much for the sweetness!! I really hope you like this XS and fingers crossed  this fits the promptXS <3 <3 <3

.-

Prompt Smash Game  |  Send Me A Prompt💜   |  A Reblog Is Like A Huge, Warm Hug!!!

.-

~R: my mom’s working the night shift at the clinic👀👀

~S: Kinky😏

~S: I can be there in 15

~R: make it 20 and get Chinese x

~S: sometimes I think ur j using me for the food

~R: and bring henny😈

.-

It’s seventeen minutes since Remus sent the last text when the front door of his modest ranch house begins to thump with a familiar wrapping that’s three quick knocks followed by two slower ones, and he has to wrestle down the eager grin from his face when he swings it open to find one of his closest friends standing at the threshold in that customary  weathered, leather jacket that he found two summers ago when Remus had taken him thrifting for the first time, and an impish sort of smirk that definitely would look ridiculous on anyone else, but only makes Sirius all the more maddeningly attractive. 

“What took so long?” Remus asks mildly, pulling him indoors by the sleeve and gesturing for him to set the goods on the kitchen counter once they cross the small foyer.

“You wound me, Lupin.” Sirius retorts, quick-silver eyes flashing before he pins him against the island and puts his hands on either side of his waistline with more gentleness than Remus would’ve expected before they began this whole sorted affair— Okay, maybe that’s the wrong word for it?

It’s not an affair, or tryst, or carrying on or whatever the fuck else Lily says when she’s teetering on the wrong edge of tipsy and thinks it’s her right to call Remus out on his bullshit— on his stupid, beyond obvious crush he’s been fostering for one of his closest friends since junior high.

It’s none of those things— It’s not nearly as dramatic.

It’s just— Just that yes, Remus has been harboring a tiny infatuation  for Sirius ever since that first day of the seventh grade  when he had moved to this tiny, coastal town after his parents divorce. But how could he have not? Sirius is hilarious, and a genius, and so gorgeous that sometimes it feels like his insides are twisting up whenever he glances over at him. And on that first day, he had just caught Remus’s eyes from across the library shelves before classes begun, and smiled in that uniquely electric way of his, and asked if Remus could put slime in a very specific locker, (Snape’s), for a very specific reason, (Because he kept following Lily around like a creep), on account to no one suspecting the new kid. And yeah— Remus was lost on him an embarrassing amount from then on. 

Sure, it can be regarded as kinda pathetic on Remus’s end— kindling this nest of emotions so close to the chest— but also it’s not as if he’s been lovestruck by his crush, like it’s some sort of waterlogged scarf he’s got dragging him down. His attraction towards Sirius is like a soft melody that’s swelling in the backdrop of all their interactions, nothing overwhelming— not a flood plane, not yet at least. It’s warm, and it’s familiar, and it’s persistent like a flutter of a humming bird’s wings.  And Remus doesn’t mind pining over someone as fantastical as Sirius Fucking Black.

Graciously, in some strike of incredible luck, Sirius never caught on to Remus’s silly feelings, not until that night when they were watching an old movie in Remus’s basement while James and Lily were celebrating an entire year together— save for all their sudden stops and just as speedy starts— and Peter was visiting his grandmother in Tampa Bay. It was the first time they had been alone together since Remus broke up with Caradoc for the final time, and Sirius just looked so fucking good in that casual, white v-neck and his skinny jeans that make him look like some echo of James Dean on his best day. And Remus isn’t sure who exactly moved forwards first, or how the fuck Meg Ryan wandering the Seattle streets was some sort of aphrodisiac, or why Sirius— who could have any guy he would ever want— was actually humoring him, but one second they’re lying down on the sofa— Remus caged between Sirius’s expanse and the cushions behind them— and the next he’s tasting PBR on Sirius’s lips, and has got a fist full of his dark hair, and is thrilling at the feeling of Sirius’s thigh between his legs. And yeah— it just happened like those sort of things are want to do, and by the end of it they were sticky and breathless and diffident in ways they never been around one another, in ways Remus reckons Sirius has never been around anyone.

But the next weekend, when Sirius’s latest sorta— but not really— boyfriend had canceled on their dinner plans, Sirius wandered over to Remus’s bedroom window and it was another tumbling of frenzied hands and loosen buckles and thrusting hips. And then it just became an easy release— a sort of poetry, an understanding in all but name.

And that’s fine. They don’t have to talk about it. Remus knows that Sirius isn’t the type to settle down with a partner, to go bowling for a date, or texting countless messages that amount to nothing at all at the end of the conversation, or putting up with another dude’s parents taking photos of them before leaving to prom or homecoming or whatever the fuck else. And Remus is sorta sick of the idea of love, of trying so hard only to end up heartbroken and eating a gallon of Chubby Bunny in his favorite sweats and cursing John Hughes for pretending Hollywood romances can happen to ordinary high schoolers. 

So yeah— This thing they’ve fallen into with each other is good. They’re friends— best friends— and they have fun and they’re apparently really fucking good in bed together, and Sirius never looks at Remus with pity when he spots him gazing at his profile absentmindedly, and he doesn’t mind when Remus traces invisible designs against his skin when they’re soaking in the after glow, and he never treats him  any different. Sirius still slings his arm around Remus’s shoulders when they walk down the halls, and he still buys him his favorite chocolates when he feels poorly, and he still faces Dorcas's disapproving wrath when he drags Remus out of the library to have a little mischief— whether it’s smoking a blunt in the abandoned skatepark in town or playing some stupid prank on those assholes in their year. 

For all intent and purposes, they still behave the same they’ve always acted around one another, but just with the miraculous addition of mind-blowing and dulcetly ductile sex.

This is good, this is fun, this is completely untethered from the bull shit of romance.

And if Remus mouths against the juncture of Sirius’s neck a little too intensely— trying to pry off the memory of the hickey Sirius had been sporting after spending the weekend with Gideon Prewett— Well no one has to be any the wiser, and by the sound of Sirius’s hitched breaths, he seems not to mind even slightly.

“Except my apology?” Remus asks, more coy than he ordinarily acts as he drops his arms around Sirius’s neck, and leans on the balls of his feet to whisper against his temple.

“Oh, you’re such a bastard,” Sirius retorts, labored as all get out, kneading his fingers into Remus’s ass that’s only covered by the thin layer of his plaid pajama bottoms. “You are going to have to do a lot more for me to forgive the lip.”

Remus laughs in a stammering sort of way as Sirius tugs him along, walking backwards to his room that he’s become incredibly intimate with since the first time they did this three months ago. 

“Sirius, the spring rolls— they’re gross if we have to heat them up again.”

“I’ll postmate us knew ones,” Sirius insists, covering Remus’s mouth with his own with fervor. “C’mon babe, do not tease me like this.”

Sirius must’ve caught his mistake, because he suddenly goes as red as Remus feels— The pet name was to close for comfort considering their strictly friends with benefits nature, but Remus is already half hard, and he really does not want to end this, so with a sly wink, he returns to nipping at Sirius’s jawline, rutting against him in a very unambiguous way. “Fine, if you really don’t think you’ll need the nourishment for your stamina?”

The words have their intended effect, and Sirius makes a small growl deep in his throat before practically tearing off Remus’s shirt, and dipping beneath the waistline of his pants, scooping him up and racing to the bed.

And they get lost in one another beneath the pale glow of Remus’s lamplight and the moon spilling through the window, relearning each others every patch of skin for minutes on end that wax and wane like the delta of ocean waves, unspooling into something tangible and tantalizing with every kiss punctuated with teeth that Sirius trails across Remus’s collarbone, and the way Remus palms greedy hands up and down Sirius’s back until he gets the hint and undresses.

“Well come on, you’re not an invalid, Lupin.” Sirius jeers and Remus chuckles as he follows suit until they’re both finally, blessedly nude. And with an easy assurance of them having done this more than a dozen times now, Remus crawls into his lap and kisses him straight on the mouth, preening how Sirius moans against him— canting up wantonly and grabbing at his hips with a sort of intensity that will probably leave bruises in the shape of the pads of his fingers, and Remus absolutely adores the idea of that, feels something hot and needy and desperate unfurl in his gut as he presses their mouths more forcefully together, going buzzed when he gets to relish in the sensation of their tongues running against one another, and the taste of the ridges on the roof of Sirius’s mouth, and the slide of the soft skin of his inner cheek— gasping when Sirius pulls away abruptly, panting an almost reverent, “Mother of God, Remus,” and tackles him flat on his back before they commence, with the addition of both their hard,  leaking cocks thrusting against one another and Sirius’s hand in Remus’s hair pulling that bit more forcefully while his other one roams the dips and planes of his side— skirting against the divots of his stomach muscle before he wraps it around the pair of them and begins to pull in earnest, to the rhythm that Remus swears was strung from the heavens above.

“Oh— Oh, yeah— Sirius,” Remus breathes out in a haggard sort of way, words that he refuses to ever call a mewl even if they’re stretched out and crackle with emotion.

“Yes—, just say that again,” Sirius practically demands, his mouth completely covering his ear in a wet, hot heat— his teeth scraping against the soft shell. “Remus, baby, just say my name, tell me you want it.”

And God, Remus is feeling so heady— like he’s floating and he couldn’t possibly come back down— that he probably would’ve listened to anything Sirius asked of him, especially if he does that thing again, when he squeezes the slick length of them with a tad more force than they usually play at. “Sirius, Sirius. Sirius, please, I’m close,” Remus shrills in an unsteady staccato— his normally smooth tenner going pitchy and pleading, and he can feel his toes curling, can feel the eminent release coming— What he does not expect is to feel something poking at his entrance, didn’t expect to be struck dumb by the sensation of the tip of Sirius’s large, dry finger poking right there, right against the fluttering hole, while he’s still pumping them in tandem, and the second it hooks inside Remus goes a startling sort of static , sees blasts of white blotching his vision and his head thrown back and his dick spirting out heavily against Sirius’s deliciously defined torso.

And he’s just breathing heavily now, during the come down, can barely make out anything  through the heavy weight around him, the one  cushioning his head— but he does graciously feel Sirius’s cock fucking into his own hand against Remus’s thigh and then idly the feeling of his come splattering him, but then after that he can just barely hear the distant padding of feed against floorboards, followed by a wet washcloth being dabbed against his skin. So when he finally forces himself to focus, he sees Sirius cleaning himself off, wrapping it into the pair of joggers Remus was wearing earlier and tosses it to the corner of the room. 

“Rude,” he scolds with no heat, shuffling closer to him when Sirius lies down besides him once more and circles an arm around his torso.

“THat’s what you get when you’re acting like a lazy fuck,” Sirius counters, smug as all get out while he threads a hand in Remus’s hair.

“Hmm, didn’t see that in the papers recently. Is it a new law?”

“Yeah, actually just past on the senate floor.”

“Interesting… Well considering that only one of us has a senator for a father, I really have to ask to see the power-point you shared with him to get this bill through the stalemate,” Remus’s head bounces against Sirius’s chest from the force of his laughter at the barb.

“Oh, stuff it, Lupin.”

Hiding his smile into Sirius’s skin, Remus does as told, and they both just lie there, as if everything’s gone suspended just for the pair of them, just so Remus can count out the beats of Sirius’s heart pulsing against his sternum, and can feel the way their legs tie into one another, and can feel Sirius mouthing against his temple, blowing his curls with every exhale. 

And Remus thinks that he’d do anything to remember this exact moment for every single day from here on out.

But then the quiet is abruptly and permanently punctured by the sound of his phone chirping, and he has to breathe in deeply before separating from the warmth of Sirius, and fishes down for the device that’s still crammed into the side of his bed from where he had hidden it after that initial text.

“Is Dearborn still on your ass to try again?” Sirius asks, a bit stilted.

Remus wonders if he’s just imagining the tension twisted in the question, but reasons that Sirius’s never been Caradoc’s biggest fan, so he just shrugs it off— really doesn’t want to get into some stupid argument about his asshole of an ex when he’s still feeling so content. “Nah, ’s James. Still trying to force me to go to the homecoming dance with you guys.”

“Oh,” Sirius retorts, lips pinched while watching Remus redress. “You should go, Marls is pregaming and you know she always gets the good shit.”

Remus shakes his head while puttering over to find a new pair of sweats and a sweater. “Nah, just not feeling it this year— Erm, you’re taking Gid I assume.” He’s not sure why he asks it, supposes he’s always a glutton for some pain and shitty feelings to inspire his playlists habit, but also maybe it’s him trying to sober himself. Trying to remember that despite this— despite everything they just did and  how easy it’s always been for them to fall into step with one another— Remus isn’t good enough to be seen with Sirius in the light of day. He’s probably not handsome enough or cool enough or something else that makes Sirius absolutely revolted from the thought. Probably that he’s beyond bookish, and looks painfully virginal and isn’t nearly as sly or snarky as his other conquests.

Truly, Remus should just be thankful that Sirius wants this at all, he shouldn’t be so crazed over the why nots of the situation— it’ll only kill him trying to be something he never could actually affect with any credence.

Schooling his features to something passably indifferent, Remus pivots to face him again, is startled when he finds Sirius still naked and staring at him with a burning sort of intensity in his storm cloud eyes. 

“He hasn’t said anything, but I guess he’s assuming as much,” he finally says, running a hand through his overgrown fringe, that familiar twitch of the corner of his mouth grabbing Remus’s attention. The one that tells him Sirius is actually irritated about something he’s not letting himself say out loud. 

“Erm, good? Gid’s a decent guy.” Remus mutters, head ducked once it gets to a point that he can’t stand Sirius looking at him like that— Not after how blissed out and ferocious he had been groping every inch of Remus only moments ago. “You guys are nice together.”

And it’s like the breath before the worst of storms when his words collapse between them, making the pregnant silence go suddenly suffocating.

“Right,” Sirius intones once Remus levels their gazes, hurriedly standing and collecting his own clothes, fracturing the moment completely. “Right. Whatever, yeah. I’ll go to the fucking dance with fucking Gideon Prewett. That’s good.”

“Sir—“

“No, it’s fine. You can just stay home, and mourn over that douchebag Dearborn some more, even though you ending it with that dick was the best decision you could’ve made, Remus, and I’m not even saying it just because I’m petty. He is a prick, and you need to finally get a clue how much better you deserve, damn it!”

Remus’s head feels like it’s swimming. Why is Sirius so angry all of a sudden? Does he not like Gideon? Why can’t he just cut it off like so many times before? And why the hell is he petty over Caradoc? The entire situation feels like someone’s just handed him a wedge of Swiss cheese and told him to knit it back together. 

“What is up your ass?” He decides is an appropriate enough question for his floundering, and shutters back only slightly at how fuming Sirius looks when he rounds on him— clothes disheveled and fearsome glower heavy on his face. 

“Whatever Remus, if you can’t see that Dearborn is bad news—“

“I’m not pining for Dearborn,” Remus interjects, really doesn’t feel like listening to one of Sirius’s ridiculous diatribes about him, not now. Not when he’s still so bewildered by everything else. “Why would you think that?”

The fire in Sirius’s eyes vanishes as quickly as someone blowing on a candle, and it’s his turn to gawk, gaping at Remus, shoulders dragged down and eyes wide. “Wait— You’re not?”

“No…. I haven’t even thought about him for weeks.”

“Oh.” Sirius looks contemplative for a moment, before the righteous anger that only he could ever wear with such conviction, melts over him once more. “All right, then what the fuck is this?”

Remus stiffens, feels his veins lace with ice, an his breath catch somewhere in his throat, really does not think he’s ready for this conversation. “This?” 

“Yes, Remus, this!” Sirius demands, sounding harsh in comparison to the barely croak Remus had spoken with. “Listen I don’t care if you want me to wait some more, if you need to lick your wounds or whatever. But why are you like pushing me on other people? Why do you want me not to be around? why do you  want me to go out with other dudes?”

Remus lies back on the chest of drawers now, feels beyond dazed. “What the hell are you talking about, Sirius?”

Sirius clenches his teeth right then, the hinge of his jaw going taught 

before he skulks closer, not letting Remus drop his gaze. “Is it me? Is it that you just can’t see me that way? Are you just stringing me along or something? Because I really didn’t think that was your style, but if it’s that, then Remus—“

“Stringing you along?” Remus asks in a voice barely above a whisper, just needs to feel his lips forming the absolutely risible words, even if it makes it so something dark passes across Sirius’s beauteous features.

“Remus, I swear to God! Stop repeating everything I’m fucking saying!”

“Then start making  some damn sense!” Remus snaps, suddenly heated as he straightens and pins him with a proper scowl. “What in holy hell are you going on about?”

“God! Do I have to spell it out!” Sirius barks, cutting the final step dividing them and grabbing for Remus’s shoulders with a tight squeeze. “I know you just wanted to fuck around with someone after Dearborn showed his extreme dickitude, and listen, I was so fucking ecstatic that you wanted me for it. But I can’t do this in-between shit anymore! I’m sorry, but I can’t! And I get if this is annoying, but I’ve been crazy for you for so long. And I just can’t keep myself at an arms length anymore, not now that we’ve really had each other, not after you let me actually touch and taste and fuck you and— Damn it, this isn’t coming out the way I wanted, all right! Damn it, maybe Evans was right and I should’ve made queue cards like some dumb ass— But then James pointed out how unromantic that was, and Marlene said—“

Gently, Remus puts his shaking fingers against Sirius’s lips, effectively killing off anything else he’s about to say. And slowly, everything is beginning to slot into place, and he’s so spiteful over how they’ve been such idiots this entire time— swears to put salt into Lily’s coffee next time he sees her. 

“I didn’t know you actually were into me Sirius.”

Stunned, Sirius’s dark brows hike up to his hairline. “How the hell didn’t you know?” He demands against Remus’s fingers, thunderous and insulted looking.

“Because you never fucking said as much!” Remus defends himself, feels a mangled sort of laughter squirming out. “God, we’re idiots.”

“We’re?” Sirius asks, hesitant and red faced before Remus moves his hand to peck softly against his mouth. 

“I’ve been half in love with you for years you absolute ass-wipe, it’s always been you! You and always you.” Remus tells him breathily, still fighting down the last remnants of his actual, god forsaken giggle— like he’s thirteen again and getting buzzed off his mom’s peach wine coolers. “I only never said anything because I never thought I’d have a chance with someone like you— Someone so— so— Someone so amazing.”

The smile Sirius favors him with right then is something absolutely incandescent, and his eyes shimmer with a very distinct sort of joy that Remus wonders if anyone besides him has ever witnessed. “Then you’re definitely the biggest idiot between us, Lupin.” Sirius declares, knocking their foreheads together, and lacing his hand into Remus’s own before squeezing meaningfully.

“Fuck off,” Remus snorts, presses forwards for another languorous kiss, not feeling in danger of being swallowed whole any more— finally letting himself drown and knowing that Sirius will be there to pull him back up no matter what. 

“Oh, I could get used to this,” Sirius smirks, snakes his arms around Remus’s waste that bit tighter.

“Hmm, there is the problem that I usually don’t put out until at least the third or fourth date,” Remus says mildly.

“Pff, ‘s fine, Lupin,” Sirius insists, grinning beatifically. “I like you being a hussy for me!— Oof, careful with the merchandize, you were speaking some real exaltations about that part of my anatomy not too long ago.”

Moving his knee from the point at hand, Remus sticks out his tongue at him. “See if you ever get any ever again, Sirius Black.”

When Sirius laughs, it sounds like the strike of lightening against unmarked land, and the honey cloaked side of a knife’s edge, and like everything splendid Remus has ever known. And he thinks that yes, he could get used to this right back.

.-

[princehairsupremacy]

25,47, and 56 please:) I feel like this could be supa hot idk👼🍄

25. "Are you naked?!"

47. "Excuse me, do you sell the 9" here?"

56. "It's so wet."

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Part 2

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Word Count: 1.8k

i sorta changed 47 a bit but its still like the same concept

Warnings: mentions of sex toys, use of sex toy, masturbation

afab!reader, she/her pronouns

God, did you miss Harry. Whenever he was away for a long period of time your need for him seemed to multiply by 1000, what else could you do except find something to sort of replace him while he was gone? So, a sex shop is where you were headed, surely you could find something there that would be good enough to satisfy you while he was gone.

The shop was in a discreet corner, you guess the location was because some people might be embarrassed and not want people to see them go in. The shop didn't also make it too obvious it was a sex shop but if you looked close enough in the window you could tell.

When you went in it was a little overwhelming, it was quite busy actually. It had bright pink LED lights seemingly flashing everywhere, giving the shop a sexy and almost feminine kind of atmosphere. There were lots of people floating about, customers looking at the items and staff waiting for someone to ask for help or already helping someone purchase their desired item.

While you were walking about, you weren't really sure what to do so the next best thing would be to ask a worker. Yes, they were trained with all this and they all seemed to be female so surely they weren't going to judge you for wanting to get off, but it was still a little embarrassing.

"Excuse me?" You lightly poked the shoulder of a worker with a brown shaggy mullet. She turned around and smiled at you, she had big bold eyeliner on her small brown eyes, black lipstick with a very shiny gloss on it, and lots of blush on her cheeks, she really suited her makeup, it brought out her features a lot. "

"Hello, what can I help you with." She smiled a big smile with her teeth, she actually had very similar ones to Harry, bunny teeth. "Is this your first time here? I don't think I've seen you before.

"Yes, yes. This is my first time here, I'm just not sure what to get. Could you help me out?" She nodded and you smiled appreciatively. Of course she wasn't judging you, these people willingly work here they didn't come to judge you they're just here to get money, it's not their job to judge.

"Of course, do you have any idea of what you would like?" Did you have any idea? Not really. Hopefully she could help you find something that suits you today so you didn't go home empty handed and unsatisfied.

"Not really, that's why I've asked you. I thought maybe you could like give some recommendations and I could see if I take interest in any. My boyfriends away for quite long sometimes and I just wanted to find something that could like...help me out while he's gone."

"I get it, a woman doesn't deserve to go without a bit of pleasure because her partners gone. Maybe we could start with dildos?" You nodded and she lead you over to the many shelves of them. Wow, that's a lot of dicks.

"Maybe you'd want something similar to your boyfriend? Or something different if it's not up to your standards. No judging of course but, sometimes that's how it is." Oh Harry was definitely up to your standards.

"I think it would be good to get something similar to my boyfriend, actually. Do you sell anything around 9" here?" Her eyes widened a little before nodding her head, trying not to show her surprise.

"This one is 9". I think this would be good for you?"

"That one would be great, thanks a lot."

____________________________________________

Guess it was time you tried this out, it'd been about two days since you got it and Harry was meant to be back tomorrow. Better try it out at least once before he returned.

You pulled it out of it's box which was hidden away, and stripped out of your clothes. You were quite excited, you'd never used a dildo and you could move it however fast and hard you liked, that seemed like something that would appeal to anyone who liked a bit of dick.

You got yourself prepared before starting to slide it into you. What you didn't know is Harry was coming home early to surprise you, he'd never done it before so you didn't expect it from him. Of course the first time he was going to do it, it was today. You didn't hear the front door or bedroom door open.

"Darling, I'm ba- are you naked?!" You jumped up and covered yourself with a blanket to the right of you. "So this is what you do when you're alone? You told me you think of me but I didn't know you meant like this."

"Shutup, Harry. This is the first time I've done it so don't get full of yourself."

"Did you buy a dildo? Lemme see." He tried to pull the blanket away but you kept a strong grip on it but of course he overpowered your strength and pulled it away. "I swear that looks similar to someones I know. Guess you do always think of me."

"Fuck off, Harry. You're so embarrassing." You tried to grab the blanket back to cover yourself but he threw it to the floor so you couldn't get it.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't here to help you. Let me make it up to you right now." He grabbed your thighs and tried to part them but you did your best to keep them pressed together. "Come on baby, spread your legs for me?"

You buried your embarrassment as deep as you could, close your eyes shut tightly and parting your legs slowly. "Open your eyes, no need to get embarrassed." You opened your eyes and saw his, there was no trace of any green in them anymore, they were fully black from lust. He looked down and pressed the heel of his hand against you, making you buck your hips. "You're really desperate aren't you..."

He pressed a finger into you but quickly brought it back out, examining it then looking at you with a smug face. "It's so wet. Were you thinking of me?" You gulped nervously and nodded, your eyes wide and watching his every move. "Promised I'd help you out, didn't I? Don't think you need any teasing today, let's get straight into it."

Thanks you guys for 200 followers, which I've just reached

[popculturebuffet]

Ducktales Comics: Spies Like Us and Dime after Dime or Weblena: The Preschool Days (Lena Retrospective) (Comissioned by WeirdKev27)

Hello all you happy people and welcome back to Shadow Into Light, My Lena Retrospective, which fittingly has now come to Women’s History Month! I sadly do not have anything besides this arc prepared for the month. This month is pretty packed for me with two shows a week to cover, as while there’s only two weeks of Ducktales left final space starts up right after to take it’s spot, two arcs to cover, and two time specific movie reviews: animal crossing the movie and the 1990 TMNT film. I will try to get more than the currently planned top 12 superheroines list out there... but this month is very tight as is, so if I do not I deeply apologize.

Now that’s out of the way, it’s appropriate we start Women’s history month on some likely lesser known parts of Lena’s history, with some comics stories focusing on our faviorite emo lesbian duck and her 87 counterpart. Before I get started on that though Kev my patreon pointed out something intresting a few weeks back i’ve been forgetting to get to and since we’re looking into Minima, I felt this was the perfect time to do so: Lena’s Concept art. 

There’s quite a few things to gleam from this. For starters as pointed out in the reddit thread I got the image as a whole from this was made in 2015, meaning Lena was one of the first new characters designed for the series and was part of it from the VERY early stages, as evidenced by the fact that despite clearly having their new personalities established, Beakly and Webby still had the old designs. 

The other notable change is that her first design was way more like both Magica nad Minima, a bit more modern, but clearly far more obvious who she was related to. She also had all black feathers making the shadow twist a bit more obvious and was likely done away with both to avoid giving that twist away, the same reason for the fake lestrange name, and to avoid accidently black coding her, as while Lena being black would’ve been intersting, it also would’ve invited a firestorm of controversy given that their one black character in season 1.. woul’dve started off as a homeless, manipulative antagonist, and none of that would play well nor was it something the progressive crew of this show couldn’t spot from a mile away.  And even this early on they have an almost final design ready, simply changing the shirt to fit her personality more, and her hair to be pink because it honestly looked better She also had green eyes throughout, but for whatever reason they phased them out. That part I don’t quite get as they look nice but probably they were hard to translate to the reboot style once they settled on their own. Her purple eyeshadow and haircut though have stuck since and were good calls. 

One last VERY obvious note.. Webby was gay for Lena from minute one. While Dana helped it is now VERY obvious they gay coded this relationship from the design phase, and the crew was entirely aware the whole time and I gave them less credit than I should have. They clearly had this in mind, and it’s very likely ONLY subtext because Disney, while making more and more progress, is very reluctant to have queer characters as Owl House was a struggle and since they have a tighter leash on properites based on the sensational 6, that means Frank knew they had the same odds of making Webby or Della queer in anything but subtext that a pig has of suviving in a slaughterhouse. I bring this up because I fear the series getting accused of queerbaiting somewhere down the road instead of doing what they could with a bad hand and hoping they could make the show as gay as they could. Penny is as out as they posisbly could get her, and Violet and Lena’s dad’s got a full apperance, if no speaking role that made it obvious beyond a shadow of a doubt their gay and did it in a plot important episode. So they did their best and I want them to get credit for that. 

But while this is all intresting stuff, join me under the cut for the meat of today’s review as I dig into Lena’s only apperance in the tie-in comic that was never punished here, and the only apperance of her protoype Minima.

Spies Like Us:  As I mentioned this comic was never published here which is doubly weird to me because of how I knew this story existed. Since I follow comics weekly and buy trades reguarly, I read the solicits companies put out eveyr month to see what new series are coming, what the ones i’m currently reading are doing, and what trades are coming out. That sort of thing, and it’s something I love. I know their basically adds.. but their well put together adds that really pull you into the books you like. The big two and the indies are all very good at it and sometimes i’ts the only way to know a comic is coming if the company dosen’t make a press release for it ahead of time. 

So naturally given there are several comics I follow at idw, paticuarlly the TMNT comics, I read those solicits and found they were going to do an issue with Webby and Lena becoming spies, and was excited about it. I ended up forgetting about it and never really followed the Ducktales comic as it came out, and upon reading an issue or two recently, one for another comission by kev as one story, happy happy valley, was particularly terrible. For those who haven’t read the story or my review, it involved the family getting stranded on an island where their forced to partake in activites and smile..that somehow turned into an aseop about Louie wanting to be rich. It ended with this

Yes.. really. That actually happened. But even with this, I fully planned to cover the issue when I covered Lena, and brought it up to Kev when he commissioned the retrospective. He gave me the discord equilvent of a blank stare and had never heard of it. I soon found out why: the story was replaced as, and fair play to disney, it spoiled Beakly’s past from the agent 23 episode which wasn’t going to air in time.  What dosen’t work is they never reprinted the story in The US.. didn’t put it in a future issue and just swap it’s place didn’t put it in the nothing. And the story was fully complete as we’ll see, with a cover and everything so they had no excuse whatsoever to NEVER use it, even with what happened to Lena in the season finale, this clearly took place before that and it was weird to just shelve it because of that. But thankfully when a bunch of the stories were reprinted overseas, this and another one, also webby centric got published overseas. But not in english.

Lucky for me, I was able to find an english translation of an english story which you can read RIGHT HERE. It was translated by @neopuff and I thank them for it as without them this review would not be possible and want to give them all the credit. So was it worth all their hard work translating it? Well let’s take a look. 

We begin at the Manor where Lena is skulking around suspiciously.. though it turns out she and Webby are just playing hide and seek. Though Lena accuses cheating. The dialouge here is pretty flat though that’s not Neopuff’s fault at all. As I can attest from reading other stories a lot of the early IDW comics are just this flat in dialoguge no matter the writer as they were likely given character descriptions and basic info about the show they likely had written up for merchandising and Frank and Co were given no involvement and likely weren’t made avaliable to consult on the comics to help them be a bit more fleshed out. It’s very obvious to me Disney just tried to get these pumped out so they’d have a series in stores to tie in without carring about qualities and given Scrooge debuted in comics, their lack of care toward that side of things in general, but especially in the first american published original duck comics in a while, bothers me a lot. It’s inexcusable. 

That being said the story isn’t half bad nor is the setup as the two hear a beeping and find it’s Beakly’s phone going off with a mysterious message from Q, Webby thinks she’s been reactivated, and is encouraged by Lena to go look after her while she stays along. While Webby says in response

It just feels grossly out of character for both. Lena is far more subtle about manipulation as shown five minutes ago and Webby blindly trusts her. Because she has a massive crush on her and is naïve about how the world works. It just seems very odd of her to get suspicious as she never does on screen, and again it comes off as Disney having barely given the writers any materials on them when i’m sure Frank or Matt would’ve been happy to write up a thing for them to help outside of the usual press materials they were given. 

Though hte last line isn’t all that out of character and has an obvious answer as within a jumpcut Launchpad’s taking them to London and is told to blend in.. which he does with an australian flag and accent.. good gag. 

So our heroines do some heroic breaking and entering and look for the package, but soon find while hiding it’s already in transit.. and had obvious bows on int. Whoops. Our heroes trie the old follow tha tcar bit and refreshingly, it dosen’t pan out as the guy stops and tells them to get out. A nice twist. Unable to follow, our heroes instead find launchpad lost, as his map is upside down

So Lena dares him if he can follow that plane, a nice bit of character for both. I will give Joe credit. While the dialouge’s a bit flat and there was that out of character moment.. for the most part he does nail the actual character down and does use it decently enough. He’s just not given enough page room or actual details to work  with is all. 

So while our heroes follow they end up having to crash as they run out of fuel.. lucky their with the expert but end up near home where the package is delivered to. Turns out this wasn’t a spy thing, this was just a thing with her aunt. That’s fine and a nice gag.. it’s just ruined by just sorta.. ending. Lena leaves disapointed and Beakly scolds webby for “playing spy” and she’s sad. That’s it that’s how it ends. Which dosen’t fit the characters, as while Beakly would defintely scold her, it just dosen’t FIT that she’d be that tearse or not appricate the effort or give her an actual lecture and it feels like Joe had no idea how to end this after the gag and just.. ended it. 

Final Thoughts for Spies Likes Us: This was okay.  It is a bit of a disappointment as for the only story not available.. i’ts just okay and not really above an average Ducktales comics story, with some nice character bits but feeling a bit weak overall, as do at least the first half of the idw comics. I haven’t read the later stuff to see if it got better. It’s worth a read if you like Webby and Lena as characters and it’s not BAD, it’s just not anything impressive and is a simple hyjinks filled misunderstanding story. 

Dime After Dime:

So now  we go back a bit to the original. I didn’t do these in chronological order because frankly, Dime after Dime is the better story of the two and the bigger one at that, so I have more to work with here. But the original also had comics and honestly from the few i’ve read much BETTER comics. I chalk this up to two things: The Ducktales 87 comics seem to have come out AFTER the series was already a hit, and since Ducktales is pretty close to the original uncle scrooge comics minus it’s own tweaks here and there, it’s easy enough to just write the stories like you would a regular uncle scrooge story, just with Webby and Launchpad added, whereas the idw writers were staffed with writing for all new versions of the characters with noticable differences without much to go on.  It’s why to me with tie in comics you have two options: Wait long enough so you can put your story inbtween the episodes like the Steven Universe and Regular Show comics did or just make your own continuity entirely like the Adventure Time Comics and the Archie TMNT Adventures series did. The ONLY time i’ve seen a comic work like this is the Bravest Warriors comic, which had a talented writer and fit well enough in the margins until it sadly ended.. and honestly is BETTER in some cases than the series. I might get to it someday. The point is this comic shows why you need to have a deft hand adapting something instead of just falling your arms about and hoping it’ll work. 

So today’s comic was part of some Disney Series called cartoon tales, which clearly repackaged comic stories from wherever, and put them together. I don’t know much about it and the only other issue avaliable collects the disney adventures adaptation of “Just Us Justice Ducks”, which I might cover at some point. This book does have two other stories which i’d be happy to do on comission or on my own at some point, one involving gladstone the other gizmoduck, but for now, i’m just sticking to the title story and the reason you all came here. 

So we open with Magica gazing into her crystal ball from her Mt. Vesuvies base saying that Scrooge will never know what hit him I know exactly what and who wiil hit him thank you very much. 

Scrooge is seeing Webby off to her first day of day camp, getting all teary eyed which is touching. Beakly apparently goes with her as the story never SAYS Sshe does but she’s not also not around when the story moves on, as Launchpad says it looks like rain. Scrooge dismisses him, though Launchpad turns out to be right. Scrooge had good reason for once though, instead of just being a dick good on you comic for making me not want to punch him in the face, trust me that is a high bar to clear with the scrooge comics, as the weather was fine just a minute ago. Naturally it was Magica All Along! Nothing scrooge can do now that eveyrthing has gone wrong! Her entrance though is sadly not a catchy earwormy tune, but .. this confusing line

I think your thinking of Gladstone. And he’s still single so.. have at that but no Scrooge is the one who values hard work over anything else and brags about THAT or being rich. I .. I don’t get this line and frankly I don’t want to. Even in stories where the dime is supernaturally lucky and the source of his wealth he dosen’t boast about it because he’s not stupid and dosen’t want everyone knowing how to bankrupt him instantly. This line will baffle me until I die, presumably, given my life’s tragetctory, after reviewing an episode of mighty ducks and slipping on some a jerky wrapper. 

Scrooge asks what she wants... 

No this isn’t that kind of story sadly. Her plan is to.. zap the bin with lightning and take the dime. Really just went with your first draft didn’t you magica? But as stupid as this plan is Scrooge has prepared for it. He installed a lightning rod on the bin to save on power, and to power his new super soaker traps. So all Magica did was save him money. She flies off and nothing is acomplished. 

So we get back to Webby at the Teenie Weenie Day Camp.. and just so you don’t think that was a terrible joke on my part...

My theory for how this name got approved at all is the editor KNEW how that sounded and just wanted to see if Disney would actually print a comic with the phrase Teenie Weenie without getting what it means in slang or how hilariously inapproriate it is to namme a children’s camp after it. 

Your probably wondering who that grown woman calling Webby a dweeb is. Well story wise, she’s SUPPOSED to be another kid at the camp around Webby’s age. In practice, she looks like THIS in closeup

So it looks and plays like a 30 year old woman snuck into the day camp and no one’s noticed she’s not actually a children. Or their just humoring her because she had a week to live. I don’t know. I do know she doesn’t get to judge on names. 

Snippy Von Glitz, proof rich people really do hate their kids and this this comic is trying personally to give me material. Snippy is your average alpha bitch, taking a chair from Minma and being obnoxious and classist and all that jazz. Minima gets hers back by making the chair bouncy then returning it to normal so Snippy gets in trouble when she makes up things about the chair, with the lady in charge getting ready to call her Dad. You cannot convince me that her “Dad” is just what she calls her husband, this is how they both get off, and that the lady at the preschool only tolerates it because they pay her a lot and so far the kids haven’t noticed Snippy is 30. Webby likes minima finding her name pretty, proving that the ho yay is alive no matter the webby and magica relative, and Minma returns the favor by saving her from a block. 

Minma is reluctant to make an actual friend, finding they aren’t worth anything and given most of the kids here apparently pick on her and her aunt is well.. Magica, it’s understandable why she’d be so cold. But Webby presses on and says something from Scrooge about friends. Which given Ducktales scrooge has none goes weird but it gets Minma to find out she knows and lives with Scrooge, so she cons webby into taking the dime for show and tell, showing that she can manipulate them with her powers, and that he won’t notice it’s missing, getting her with “I thought you wanted to be friends” 

So let’s pause for a second and compare and contrast the two: Both are the niece, or at least sorta in Lena’s case, of Magica, both manipulate webby, and both are her first real friend: The 87 boys are little monsters and I don’t consider them friends or even brothers, while the 2017 ones are just that: brothers. Their her siblings in all but blood, not friends and have hteir own long complicated history. 

But otherwise the two are vastly different. Lena is a far more complex character as she’s been abused her whole life, is a rebel because Magica hardly gave her agency, and while she starts wooing webby out of self interest it’s clear even as far as the first episode she cares. Lena would gladly be part of the world if she could and this whole scheme is to gain that choice. 

Minma is still sympathetic but very different: She walls herself off because the other kids laugh and mock her for being herself and lashes out at them.. not unreasonably mind , but still feeling she needs no one else.. but as we’ll learn later she’s only helping Magica to finally feel accepted, to get all the fancy clothes and stuff that will make her popular instead of that grown woman masquerading as a kid for disturbing reasons. Minma is at her heart just a hurt kid desperate to fit in. And while Lena shares the desire for a place to belong.. it’s at it’s core much sadder. Lena.. wants a family. Someone to love her and to care about her and actually look after her. Minma has that she just wants to be loved. it’s similar but very diffrent and I can see why Lena evolved into what she did, as Frank and Matt ended up going in a far darker but ultimately more interesting direction. Minima is not a bad character at all though and without her I don’t think we would’ve had Lena, but at the end of the day the 87verse is just not that complicated, so the reboot needed something more and that more evolved into who we have now. 

Both kids excitedly talk about their new friends, with their respective guardians being distracted. Scrooge is distracted by the fact his car is a bit bumpy and Launchpad offers to fix it up for free with some parts from a buddy, which given the sentence “This won’t cost you anything” makes him erect, Scrooge agrees. Magica meanwhile, whose watching Minima while her mom is away which raises a LOT of questions we don’t have time for like who she is, is she’s poes wife or does Magica have other siblings... it’s a lot of questions we’re never going to get answers to. 

The next day Webby got the dime easy as Scrooge was distracted. so Minima swaps them while she’s distracted. But while swiping it was easy, which to be fair Webby is likely approved in his security so it woudln’t match her.. or the story just needed to progress. You make the call. 

Magica does the logical thing and goes and get sthe dime and the story ends there.. and i’m shitting you, she of course brags to scrooge, reveals minima as her spy, and offers to RACE him for it shortly after he realizes he has a fake.

The only major flaw in this story is Magica’s overconfdience, which isn’t BAD persay, but here has gotten to dumbass proportions. She just can’t plan for anything and a CHILD has a better plan than her that only dosen’t work for reasons we’ll get to. And that plan is almost ruined by Magica taunting scrooge!

So a race is on but Launchpad has transformed Scrooge’s old Model T into this

Damn that’s cool. Scrooge of course dosen’t like it, but honestly you get what you paid for. Oh that’s right you paid nothing for something you NEED to use every day for transportation. 

At  the rickity thickity bridge, Steve Buschemi’s worst roll and her minion ask Webby to roll with them and Minima mistakes this for betrayal planning to soak them all.. only for Webby to DEFEND HER, pointing out minma’s her friend, how she dresses is fine and she loves her no matter what.. the last part’s implied. The 30-year old asshole and her minon leave Webby and Minma is genuinely touched, as no one’s done that for her before. She put up so many walls... she didn’t realize someone could ACTUALLY care about her, so obessed with thinking she had to be like that soccer mom in preschoolers clothing, she just had to be herself: kinda werid but in that fun adams family way. Webby says she knows Minma would do the same.. so while she prepares to let’s get back to the race. Magica realizes Launchpad’s roadster is actually gaining and spreads some tacks, but Scrooge counters with some money.. because of course he has a lot of money in the trunk. But Magica takes out the bridge and while scrooge awesomely JUMPS IT... he’s still too late. 

As you probably guess though, Minima had a change of heart, and gave Webby the real dime back, and Scrooge confirms it. Minima TRIES to tell Magica, and Magica is horrified her niece is a goody goody “I”ll never hear the end of it at my astral aerobics class”.. I.. I want to see that. Let’s raise those spirit ladies and kick kick that soul, doge that shadow king punch them in the soul. Yes! Now eat it eat it and absorb it’s power!

We end on a button joke as Webby apologizes for taking the dime., Scrooge accepts it and Webby tells them magica learned to carpet and they gulp for some reason. 

Final Thoughts on Dime after Dime: This story was decent. It has problems, some jokes don’t land and Magica is made horribly incompetent, but minima’s character arc is endearing, and Webby herself is precious as always and her winning Minima over feels genuine. And Scrooge is in prime adoring uncle mode with her and i’ts just so cute. And the roadster race is pretty awesome to watch honestly. It’s an exceptional and enjoyable tie in story.. and not the last ducktales 87 story we’ll be covering here. Wink wonk. 

Next Time: Things get DARK as Lena and Webby head into the depths of Scrooge’s hidden bin and Lena heads into the depths of her own soul. 

Tommorow: Woo-Ooo mofos as we go back to the very beginning of the reboot! A family restored, a lost city to explore, and a glomgold rises! Be here or be square. 

[acraftedmistake]

Nether Time!

Cassie and Petra need to get stuff from the Nether! It’s been a while since they’ve done this.

“Nether time!” Petra sang as she leapt out the portal.

“Nether time!” Cassie Rose chimed as well, landing right beside her friend.

The two exchanged big grins with one another. Cassie was holding onto her outfit so tightly she thought it’d tear.

It’s been ages since they’ve been in their house together. Everything still looked and felt the same. The red and teal carpet was still covering the netherrack floor, still stained and torn, the walls were that weird combination of wood and netherrack that she remembers so fondly, shelves and counters surrounded them, holding both their’s and the previous owner’s items. Those four cushioned chairs they placed in the upper left corner of the house--the ‘kitchen’--have yet to move. The kitchen itself was just a few chests filled with food, a battered stove that stopped working years ago, and a cauldron with strange splatters in it. There were also the remains of their kitchen table. Used to be fine, sturdy wood, but when they first arrived at this house, monsters were trying to break in, so they had to use the base of the table and the legs to fend themselves. The decorations were still hung up too! Bells, chimes, other sorts of art pieces attached to strings that hung from the ceiling, just as Cassie remembers it.

Well, it technically isn’t ‘their’ house. Their portal just happened to appear inside this strange old place one day, and they claimed it. Finders keepers, you know? Besides, the previous owners were probably long dead.

“Come on, we need to get your pumpkin.” Petra made her way to the counters beside the portal. The countertops were covered with broken weapons, ores, and strange nik naks they found over the years, and sitting in the middle of it all: Cassie’s white pumpkin.

Petra grabbed the hollowed fruit and spun it around in her hands, “You’ll be happy to hear I’ve been taking good care of your other pumpkins back at the cave.”

“That’s impressive, considering you somehow managed to kill a cactus that one time.”

“Hey, I already told you that stupid cactus killed itself. I was gone for one day, and when I came back, it was dead. I did nothing wrong.” Petra denied as she tossed Cassie her pumpkin.

Cassie quickly dropped her extra set of clothes to catch her it, “Did you water it when the soil got dry?”

“It’s a cactus. Water’s irrelevant.” Petra avoided Cassie’s little glare by facing the counter again and sorting through the random items.

Cassie held the pumpkin in her hands and stared at it for a moment. It’s been a few years since she’s worn it last. Memories were flooding through her. She still remembered how she first got her hands on her first pumpkin; she stole it from a crazy old guy’s backyard. She just happened to spot it while walking through a random town one day, Petra told her ‘If ya like it, get it.’ And she did exactly that. It was a real strange pumpkin. When the two cut it open, it hardly had any guts, and the inside smelled like… Nothing. Well, it smelled ‘wet’ if that was possible. The sorta wetness you’d smell in a forest after it’d rain. They were surprised at how durable it was too, which soon sparked the amazing idea of shoving her head inside the pumpkin and using it for protective gear. It sounds ridiculous--heck, it probably looks ridiculous--but it works, and Cassie likes it, so that’s all that matters.

Cassie ended up planting the few pumpkin seeds years ago, and before she knew it, she had a bunch of = pumpkins to last.

Cassie can trust Petra with the pumpkin care, but she always makes sure to check in on them. That white pumpkin got her into plants, she even has a few houseplants back at home, but she’s still too embarrassed to tell anyone yet.

“Oh!” Petra snapped her fingers. She dashed back to the portal, shoved the upper-half of her body into the vortex, then came back out with her Wither Skull in hands. “Nearly forgot this bad boy.”

“I’m surprised that thing’s still in one piece.” Cassie said while she watched Petra grab a cloth from a chest in the kitchen.

“Right? This thing’s insane!” Petra exclaimed as she cleaned the inside of her painted skull. “One time I forgot it outside, a quake happened, and when I ran out to get it back, a tree landed on it and it was still in one piece.”

“You ever thinking of repainting it?” Cassie asked. She began putting on her long, oversized, dark blue pants over her leggings.

“Nah, the stripes are iconic. “ Petra tossed the cloth aside then shoved her head into the skull.

Cassie let out a grunt as she struggled to put her large long-sleeved shirt over her hoodie. She knew she was going to be drowning in sweat with three layers on, but that’s three extra layers of fire protection. When she finally got it on, she began tying the belt around her waist and slipped on her thick, brown gloves.

As she was adjusting her gloves, Petra handed her a crooked pickaxe and a worn-down sword.

“If I knew you were comin’ over today, I would’ve made some better tools for you.” Petra said. She was holding a blue backpack in her other hand that’s seen better days. One black strap had been completely torn off while the other was just barely holding on. There were holes where the buttons used to be. Hopefully it’ll be able to hold their stuff.

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Cassie said, holding the tools by the sides of her arms. “We’re just gonna pick up a few things anyways.”

Cassie stuck her head into the pumpkin.

“You ready?” Cassie asked, her voice muffled. She took the weapons out and held them firmly.

“Super ready.” Petra smiled as she watched Cassie twirl the tools around before shoving them into her pockets.

Petra swung open the front door, and a horrible heatwave rushed in and hit their faces. Cassie’s eyes watered. You’d think after all those years of exploring the Nether, she’d get used to it, but it always seems to get worse each time.

Petra held the door open with her foot and the girls made some quick, last-minute readjustments with their outfits.

Cassie glanced to the side and spotted a familiar sign hanging under the doorknob. It was a piece of oak wood with the words “No Boys Allowed” that she made as a joke. That was way back when they first spawned into this house.

“Why do you still have that old sign up?” Cassie asked, surprised it hadn’t burnt to a crisp.

“To keep the boys out.” Petra said casually as she closed the door.

“But we’re the only two here though.”

“All thanks to the sign.” A little smirk formed on Petra’s face.

Cassie rolled her eyes and gave Petra a playful shove as they went out into The Neighborhood.

The Neighborhood… A sweltering ghost town. Awakening members used to live here years ago. Their ‘homes’ were just hollowed out holes in netherrack hills, making the place look more like a Hellish wasp nest than a cozy neighborhood. The openings were usually covered in old wood, and their front doors were rather busted or missing. And the way these houses were placed in such unorganized clutters just felt… Wrong. People weren’t meant to live in the Nether.

Any leftover space was taken up by Nether portals. It didn’t matter if the space between the houses were huge or cramped, people found ways of making the portals fit. Maybe the Neighborhood looked real pretty when the portals were all activated, but they’ve been deactivated for years, and Cassie and Petra weren’t planning on lighting them up anytime soon. It was bad luck to reactivate dead portals.

“So what things you lookin’ for again?” Petra asked.

“Gold’s high on the list,” Cassie replied, “we also need extra iron, extra flint, and some netherrack just in case.”

“Awh shoot, what?!” Petra froze. Her tone turned serious.

“What? What’s up?!”

“Do you know how hard it is to find netherrack!? We’ll be looking around for hours!” Petra exclaimed, standing on the netherrack floor. Surrounded by netherrack hills. With a netherrack covered sky.

Cassie couldn’t see Petra’s face, but she KNEW she had that big, dumb smile.

Cassie gave her a quick bonk on the skull and bent down to gather an arms-full of netherrack chunks, all while Petra was laughing.

“Damn, talk about lucky.” Petra teased, “You always had a good eye for rare items.” She slipped the bag off her shoulders and opened the flap for Cassie.

“Yeah, yeah. You gonna be messing with me the entire time we’re here?” Cassie rolled her eyes as she shoved the netherrack into the sack.

“Awh, come on, it’s been almost two years since we’ve done this. I’ve missed ya.” Petra said. The two began walking again. “It’s really boring without ya, you know?”

“Man, has it really been two years?” Cassie stared at her feet, a feeling of guilt starting to gnaw at her.

“But I mean--mentally, it’s only been two days.” Cassie said, looking back at Petra.

“Ex-ACT-ly. Time doesn’t move unless we’re together. Common knowledge.” Petra gave her a grin. Cassie couldn’t see most of it, but she could feel it. It was reassuring.

The two stepped over a wooden bridge that was splayed out over the ground. It’s been there since day once, wood planks, rope, and all. They kept telling themselves they’re gonna move it, but they never do. It’s not like it’s a huge obstacle or anything.

There was a lotta stuff like that around the Neighborhood. If you looked up, you could see more bridges hanging between the hills, many of them missing their planks or dangling by their threads, and a bunch of the houses built into the top of the hills had staircases, ladders, or ramps that stretched all across the area. Cassie and Petra had the “fun” experience of finding out which ones were stable or not.

“So, shouldn’t we start looking through the houses or somethin’?” Cassie asked, her eyes scanning the dozens of houses they’d have to scour through.

There were still items in these houses. Even though this place was abandoned years ago, a looming presence remains. Dirty dishes sitting in cauldrons, rotting meals on kitchen tables, unfinished letters on desks, wrinkled blankets on unmade beds, all signs that this ghost town was once full of life. Petra and Cassie have spotted many weird trinkets The Awakening members have made; chunky jewelry, small dolls carved from nearby materials, chimes, and masks that lacked eyeholes. Many, many art pieces included the Awakening symbols: A red flower with hundreds of petals, their empty eye, and the Hero. Another thing many homes seemed to have were mirrors, but they were never in one piece. Instead, they were often broken into several large parts and tied to strings that’d hang from the ceiling, or arranged in odd shapes on the walls. Sometimes the shape would resemble their eye, but most of the time it looked like nonsense.

“Nah, I have a different place in mind.” Petra replied.

“Have we been there before?” Cassie tilted her head.

“Perhaps.” Petra said, “Just gotta wait and see.”

The two stayed on the path, which was a mix of netherrack, gravel, and soul soil, passing under the hanging decor above.

Wooden poles were on each side of the path with rope tied to the tops, connecting them together while chimes, flags, and glass hung from the threads. When a hot breeze came by, the Neighborhood would create its own music. The clinking of the glass, the flapping of banners, the clattering of metal chimes, and the creaking of wooden doors created this strange but soothing sympathy to fill the silence.

“How’re things with the other Jesse and Olivia goin’?” Petra asked, swinging her sword around.

“Frustrating.” Cassie huffed.

“Oh?”

“Things were kinda going okay until Aiden decided to basically blurt out what was happening to our Jesse. Now Stella’s all stressed out, and we gotta keep an eye out for that cult creep, and Aiden’s probably gonna be super bummed that he made poor little Jesse upset--” Cassie ranted.

“I remember bout Aiden spillin’ the beans.” Petra commented. “Sorry everything’s been stressful.”

“It’s been so freaky with those two around! I dunno if I should be happy, upset, but Hero, everytime I look at them for more than a minute I start to feel sick.” Cassie felt that familiar queasy feeling rising in her stomach, “I’m not saying they’re bad people or something, just that… Everything sucks. And having our Jesse running around isn’t helping.”

“I mean, it’s a weird situation. Don’t blame you at all for feeling that way. Heck, even when I first saw them I was thrown off. Felt like two freaks wearing Olivia and Jesse’s skins.” Petra noticed her friend falling behind and waited for her to catch up.

“That’s a fun way to put it.” Cassie said, trudging along.

“Jess and Liv,” Cassie mumbled, “they’re nice, but I can’t wait for them to go home. I wanna forget this ever happened. They make me miss those two all over again.”

“I can imagine.” Petra went quiet when Cassie joined her side. The sounds of the Neighborhood filled the air.

Petra extended her arm out, “I’m here for ya, though, ya know? If you ever wanna complain, cry, or get angry about that Radar guy, I’m always here.” It was hard to see it, but through the gaps of the skull’s teeth, Petra was giving her a smile.

“Thanks.” Cassie took one hand out of her pocket and went to lock arms with Petra, something they used to do years ago, “I mean it.”

“Course.” Petra said.

And with that, the two picked up the pace.

Petra glanced at her friend then glanced at the various portals surrounding them, “I’m gonna guess Jesse and Olivia didn’t walk through an obsidian portal, right?”

“No, some weird blue portal. Probably lapis. I wish it was somethin’ as easy as obsidian.” Cassie sighed. “I’m guessing you haven’t seen Jesse recently?” She asked.

“Nope.” Petra lied, “Not yet. I’ll let you know though.”

Cassie gave her a nod and looked ahead. They were nearing the Nether Fortress. Their Nether Fortress.

Seeing this place after so long… It was like seeing it for the first time again. The broken, tall towers, the bridge stretching across the sea of lava, the ruined railway system, it was so otherworldly. The only thing missing were those hundreds of monsters crawling around the place that Cassie and Petra used to beat up.

That wide open bridge over boiling magma--with the Fortress being so close--was just begging Cassie to run across it.

Petra noted Cassie’s excitement and unlocked arms with her.

“Go ‘head, I’ll be right behind ya.” Petra said with a grin, and on cue, Cassie bolted off to the entrance.

Memories of the two of them raced through Cassie’s mind. The hot air hitting her face, the colors blurring together, her feet stinging each time they hit the ground, it was just like old times. This was liberating.

“Hey, I’m winning!”

Cassie whipped her head at just the right time to see Petra taking the lead.

“Not for long!” Cassie hollered as she picked up the pace.

They were both set on the entrance. Cassie could see Petra out of the corner of her eye. She could feel the confidence radiating from her, like she knew she was gonna win. But not this time.

When Cassie was just feet from the entrance, she dived. She crashed into the ground, her pumpkin making a loud THUD when it hit the floor.

Before she could push herself up, Petra fell on top of her. She must’ve had the same idea.

Both of them were laying on the ground, panting and laughing.

“Pretty sure I won.” Petra finally said.

“Nu-uh, my hand made it past the entrance first!” Cassie shot back, still breathing heavily.

“Yeah, but your hand didn’t touch the ground first, so technically--”

“Since when were you about technicalities?!” Cassie exclaimed. Petra could hear the laughs between her words.

“Alright, if it’ll make you happy, then I’ll admit it…” Petra got up and helped Cassie to her feet. “We tied.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Welp, guess we’ll never know who won.” Petra shrugged. Cassie gave her a playful shove.

“Yeah, yeah.” Cassie adjusted her belt. The two stopped and faced an intersection of three hallways.

“Which way do we need to go?” asked Cassie.

Petra glanced at the wooden arrow signs above then pointed ahead, “Straight, then a left, then straight again.”

“Got it.” Cassie started walking and couldn’t help but snicker at the words on the signs. There were a bunch of those signs hanging around here, their original words have long since faded, so she and Petra took some creative liberties.

Cassie recalled those directions, they were heading towards the ‘Spicy Abyss’, which was the second bridge on the other side of the Fortress. It's in ruins, so the two of them just like to sit on the edge and enjoy the view.

The middle sign was ‘Lotsa Boxes’, which is the hallway they’re currently walking through. It’s a rather wide hall--nearly as wide as the bridge they just crossed--that’s filled with abandoned stalls, carts, and chests. The stalls had boxes in, on, and around them, the old carts had boxes in them, and the chests--the chests were already boxes. This place must’ve been a Trading Hall, a storage, or even a marketplace for the Neighborhood back then. The way everything was arranged reminded Cassie of the night-market in Obsidian Town; lots of trading, buying, and selling, except not in the middle of the blazing-hot Nether.

Banners hung from short poles in the walls, all shades of red, turquoise, and gold while covered with symbols and faded words advertising goods. When Cassie and Petra first found this place, they were surprised at how many tools, ores, and old books were left behind, so of course they gathered them all up and sold ‘em. Made them a great deal of money!

The two took a left and continued down another hallway. They were pretty close to ‘Petra Fell’; those were the words on the last sign. It was one of the three tall towers you could see through the windows. It was the shortest of the bunch, it’s upper half is completely missing, but it was the best place to climb and get a fantastic view.

Cassie and Petra haven’t been on top of that tower in years. The last time they were, Petra was playing around near the edge, stumbled, and nearly fell to her death had it not been for Cassie catching her. Petra’s been terrified of heights since then. Cassie can’t blame her.

It’d be nice to rush through that tower again with Petra, even if she didn’t want to go to the very top, it’d be a great… The tower…

It looked different.

Cassie couldn’t put her finger on it, but something was off. She could feel it.

“Hey, did that tower get shorter? Or have I just been gone for too long?” Cassie asked.

Petra didn’t even glance at the tower, “Already noticing my hard work, I see.”

“Hard work?” Cassie tilted her head. Petra didn’t elaborate. Cassie kept pestering her, but she wouldn’t budge until they reached the end of the hall.

Where there used to be a big, gaping hole was now covered up by tons of banners. They were sloppily sewn together, trying to hide every piece of the other side.

“So,” Petra began, “Remember how I said I had a different place in mind to find those items?”

“Yeah?” Cassie answered slowly.

“And remember how we always wanted to build that bridge to the other side of the Nether?” A grin grew on Petra’s face as she watched Cassie’s eyes light up.

Cassie gasped, “No, nu-uh, you did not!”

“I did.” Petra raised her brows. When Cassie took another step forward, Petra yanked the banners off to reveal a magnificent bridge that stretched across the sea of lava and connected to the other side of the Nether. It was a mish mash of netherrack, nether brick, gravel, and even some obsidian. There weren’t any rails on it, and Cassie was certain it hardly had any support underneath it.

It looked dangerous.

It looked fantastic.

Petra watched Cassie take all this in. She was bouncing in place, hands over her mouth, all excited like a li’l kid. Man, Petra could only imagine what Cassie’s face was like under that pumpkin. Her eyes were probably sparkling and she had that big, dorky smile that’s bright enough to light up this entire fortress.

“Oh Hero, oh--Oh I canNOT believe you!” Cassie exclaimed, grabbing Petra and shaking her excitedly before giving her a big hug.

“Hey, we always wanted to see more of the Nether together.” Petra chuckled, “Thought this would be a nice little surprise for when you came back.”

Cassie let go to look at the bridge again; Petra took a lungful of air.

“And don’t worry, it’s stable.” Petra said, “I’ve tested this bad boy out hundreds of times and only had several near death experiences.”

“Perfect, great! All I need to hear.” Cassie was revved up. She dug her feet into the ground, ready to blast off, but she stopped herself. “Agh, wait. I promised Aiden I’d come back home soon.”

“How soon?” Petra leaned against the wall.

“Like, by the end of tomorrow, I think?”

“Well, you got here at a pretty good time, so we got, what? Several hours to work with?” Petra tapped the skull’s chin, “If we’re fast enough, we could see some good sights and get your stuff. So whaddya say?”

Petra got closer to Cassie, “Wanna see how fast we can blast through this sucker?”

Despite the skull hiding her face, Cassie knew Petra was smiling, and Cassie smiled right back at her.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

handmaid - 02

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap

A/N: you guys have been so extremely sweet with this new work i don’t even know how to thank you!! thank you so so much for supporting my writing, it always makes my day. i hope you enjoy xx

NEXT CHAPTER

Y/N was laying in her new room right stuck in between the guest and Gwen’s bedroom. It was a rather bleak room if she was being honest. The walls were all white in exception to one of them that like the entrance was covered in floor to ceiling windows. There was little to no furniture in exception for a king sized bed, a white chest of drawers and a wall embedded wardrobe where she had put most of her clothes already. 

She wondered why a man of such income would like to be surrounded by such bleak colours. From what she had noticed his whole place was decorated in shades of grey and black with the occasional beige and white. Sure, it looked lovely, sleek even, something worth of being in the cover of an architectural magazine, but it wasn’t a home. A home had warmth, lived in sheets, walls and floors, this house however was ... was ghosted, almost as if no one lived in it. 

Rolling onto the comfortable white sheets, she took the contract into her hands, looking at the lettering on the cover itself. Y/N fully understood why he wanted all his employees to have a binding legal document, what she didn’t expect was to see the first line constricted her breathing. “The individual agrees not to follow any legal action against the employer in any circumstance”, it read. This was definitely not what was she expecting. 

     - Y/N? - she shoved the contract under her sheets as Gwen’s voice sounded through the room, her head peaking through the opening of the door. - What are you up to?

    - Not much. How are you? Do you enjoy the new room? - Sebastian had put her in a different room from his, something she had expected but still found odd. They were to be married after all and despite it all being a business move and transaction, it was still a valid marriage. However, none of them seemed to eager to at least try and create some chemistry. 

    - Boring. I need a favour, though. Please and when you decide remember you’re my oldest and best friend since we were babies. - Y/N knew that face and she did not like it. It was the same face that got them both stranded in the Carribean because she just needed to get to know some guy from the opposite terminal before catching the plane. However, she also knew Gwen to be a great driving force of making her do things she didn’t exactly want to do, so she decided to nod her head yes, already overwhelmed with the move and the contract. - I need to head out for a few minutes, could you cover for me?

     - What ... where are you going? 

     - I have a date. - she cheekily entered the room, closing the door behind her after checking if someone was in the hall. The redhead sat in front of her, a childish grin on her face as if she were in high school going out with the captain of the football team. - And he’s really sweet.

     - Gwen, you’re engaged. - the big sapphire in her left hand’s third finger was all she could look at. Of course Y/N wanted to be happy for Gwen, she really did and she really shouldn’t put too much effort in the thought that she was going to get married, after all it was just a strategy, but her mind was screaming at her that it wasn’t right. - Don’t you wanna at least give it a go before you completely give up?

     - No, I wanna go out with Chuck. - she took her engagement ring off, placing it on Y/N’s white sheets. - Please cover for me, please.

     - What if Sebastian notices you’re gone?

    -  He won’t because you’ll cover for me, besides, he probably won’t even leave his office. Please, Y/N? - Y/N sighed. What was the use of saying no if she was gonna leave any other way? Besides, if she were right and Sebastian didn’t leave his office, it should be alright. Losing whatever piece of resolve she has in her, she let out a soft smile, nodding her head yes which led the redhead to hug her with a death like grip. - It’ll one be for a few hours. I owe you one.

     -  I’m pretty sure you’ve own me one since we were one. - Gwen let out a celebratory chuckle before grabbing her bag and leaving Y/N on her own once again. 

The whole house was constantly silent, almost as if all the employees were scared of making a sound which when it came to the demanding presence of their boss, she wondered if that was the case. The only disruption of silence that could be heard was the soft rain against the windows which was enough to lull her to sleep. She would’ve possibly remained asleep if it hadn’t been for a slight knock interrupting her slumber. She took her head off her pillow, confused as if she had slept for so long, Gwen had returned. Another knock made her get from the bed, sleep still in her eyes as she opened the door to come face to face with one of the dressed up employees. 

    - Miss Y/N, dinner is served.

    - Just Y/N please. 

    - I believe it would be more of Miss Forrest’s comfort if you were to inform her dinner is ready. 

    - Oh ... Miss Forrest ... she’s, she’s not feeling very well. 

    - Should we call a doctor?

    - No, it’s just ... you know, that time of the month. - Y/N had the most nervous smile on her face, but as the man heard that specific term, he scrunched his face for a few seconds before returning to his normal formal and stoic posture. Maybe she had gotten away with it. - I don’t think she’ll want any dinner.

    - Oh, alright, would you still like to have dinner, Miss Y/N? - he questioned. She was rather hungry, after all, all she had before coming in was dinner and after sleeping she always awake up feeling like snacking, therefore dinner sounded like a good idea. 

She followed the man into the kitchen that similarly to the rest of the house had the same simple yet modern design to it. The floors were in the same shade of marbled black with few specks of grey, the walls were white with a black wooden backsplash and one of them had the same full amount of windows which gave a beautiful view of the Upper East Side. There were various balconies connected to the walls but the biggest one was in the middle where some chairs were laid. 

Y/N watched as a woman, probably middle aged, set the table. Just like the man who had brought her to the kitchen, she was dressed in sleek, working clothes with her hair held in a perfect bun up-do. 

     - I hope you like goat cheese and bistro salad, m’am. - she set a beautifully prepared plate in front of Y/N as she took a seat in the table. - I can prepare you something if you don’t like it, m’am.

     - No, it’s beautiful, thank you so much. - yes, she was used to living in some sort of high fashion style due to the environment she had brought up with but this, this was different. This was expensive in all sorts, from how the employees dressed, to the way the food was presented. However, Y/N noticed that instead of being surrounded by other people eating like it would normally occur at her prior home, she was instead surrounded by staff watching her eat, no Sebastian in sight. - Is Mr. Stan not joining us for dinner?

     - Oh no, m’am, Mr. Stan eats in his office. - the woman replied. 

     - What about you guys? Don’t you wanna eat? 

     - It’s fine, m’am. We’ll eat after you finish. 

     - Alright ... - Y/N pushed her plate slightly away from her, turning on her chair so she could face the two staff who were now staring at her as if she were any sort of threat. - Where me and Miss Forrest were raised, staff is treated just as well as family members. I don’t know what orders you follow from Mr. Stan but when you deal with me or Miss Forrest, you sit down and have dinner with us if you wish. 

The dinner went a bit better after she gained some company. The staff was sweet, very professional still but sweet nevertheless. After dinner and fighting a bit with the woman named Anna so she could help with the dishes, Y/N decided to walk around the house. Gwen still hadn’t returned and despite her countless messages sent to her, they were seen but not replied to. Thankfully, Sebastian hadn’t left his office as promised which meant she only had to lie whenever any member of staff would ask if she needed something. 

The penthouse was pretty much a regular place with more rooms than she could ever imagine with some being locked and others being open and perfectly decorated yet seemed to be non inhabited. However, what had sparked her interest was the very last room she checked. The room’s wall except for one were filled with book shelves which were filled itself with endless amounts of books. She looked around, wondering if someone was spying on her, before entering the room, her hands grabbing the first book she saw. The Great Gatsby. It sorta made her chuckle how that had been the first book she caught, the story of a wealthy man who lives by himself. The book itself was in rather good condition with the traditional blue cover with those unsettling eyes staring right back at her. She opened the book, her eyes going to the date of print making her realise what she was holding. April, 1925. A first edition. 

      - Looking for a good read, Miss Y/N? - she dropped the book out of surprise, not expecting the voice. Her head snapped in the sound’s direction, watching as Sebastian walked over to her, slowly crutching down to grab the book from the ground.

       - Are these all yours? - this was the biggest self collection of books she’d ever seen, it was somewhat hard for her to wrap around her head it belonged to a single person, specially first editions. 

       - My father made sure I got an expensive education. 

       - Have you read all of these? - her eyes widen at the mere thought of it. Just reading one shelf of books looked like it would take at least five years, at beast. 

       - Not all of them ... some are in Greek. - he couldn’t help but be entranced by her as she lowered her head to hide the small smile that settled itself on her lips. - Are you one for reading?

       - I majored in English Literature, reading was all I did for three years. 

       - Fits. - he put his hands on the pockets of his formal trousers. - You wouldn’t lie to me, would you Miss Y/N? 

       - I wouldn’t think of it, Mr. Stan. - Y/N wasn’t one for lying unless necessary, specially to someone who had a reputation for ignoring empathy and other human emotions. 

       - Where’s my fiancée, Miss Y/N? - the mere question knocked the air away from her. - And please do not use the same excuse you used with my staff. I know everything that goes on in this house and I know for a fact she’s not in her room. 

       - I ... I don’t know. 

       - I think you need to figure out where your loyalty lies, Miss Y/N. - he picked her chin, making sure she looked into his eyes. If there was something he knew was to intimidate someone with his gaze alone, however, she looked embarrassed to be caught in a lie rather than scared. - As my employee, you owe me your loyalty and the truth. 

     - My loyalty lies with Gwen ... not with you. - she took a step backwards. He sucked his teeth, arms crossed on his chest. - I don’t mean to disrespect you, Mr. Stan but ... Gwen’s my friend and my employee and I owe her my loyalty. 

     - You do realise that if Miss Forrest gets hurt it is you who’s gonna be held accountable. 

     - Please don’t be mad at Gwen. - she rubbed her arms. - She’s never really wanted to get married, at all, to no one. This is a bit of a change she has to adapt to.

     - Don’t flatter yourself, angel. Genevieve Forrest is not exactly the type of woman I’d personally chose to be with but I’m not being childish about it. If you wanna have a good time under my employment then you better reconsider telling me the truth.

taglist: @sideeffectsofyou​

[marvelyningreen]

Aftershocks - Night 3

Night 1 | Night 2 | Night 3 | (deleted scene)

[Summary: Peter Maximoff is an unflappable sorta guy. He’d never let anything get to him before, and this recent misadventure will be no different. ...Right?

Warnings: mild language, references to injury and mind control, general trauma-related angst

Notes: Peter Maximoff x reader, of the established relationship variety. A ‘what if Fietro really was Peter?’ scenario. Same continuity/reader character from Linger and Late-bloomer.

Tag list: @cowboyenorgy ]

On the third night after your return from Westview, you finally go back to the groundskeeper’s cottage. You figure that it’s time to try getting back to normal, and Peter agrees. If you need anything, neither of you will be far from the other X-Men, or from each other, right? And to be honest, you’re looking forward to sleeping in your own bed again.

That, and Peter’s been running hot and cold on you again today.

In the morning, he’d been all sweet and attentive still. You’d felt a little guilty about sleeping in his bed while he’d slept on the couch, but he brushed off your attempts to apologize. He was fine, he’d insisted, and you were the one who was injured.

He’d asked you to stay put and then disappeared, returning a few minutes later to bring you breakfast in bed. And, apparently in the spirit of going full Jane Austen on you, he’d asked Hank to make a house-call.

After re-examining your injured knee, Hank determined that you hadn’t made it any worse, but you hadn’t done it any favors, either. Exasperated, he asked if you’d please just use the crutches for a few days, and between his insistence and Peter’s puppy-dog eyes, you’d agreed to.

Peter had to dash off again after breakfast to help the professor with the twins. Only, this time, you didn’t see him again for the rest of the day.

You ended up wandering aimlessly around the mansion for a while, wondering what on earth to do with yourself. There’s not much groundskeeping to do in the winter to begin with, so you’d started doubling as a substitute teacher when other faculty members were away on missions.

Unfortunately for you, all the full-time teachers were present. You wouldn’t have anything to do even if Professor Xavier hadn’t given you mandatory time off. As you were pondering this, you turned the corner to see Wanda standing alone in the hall, gazing out the window.

She didn’t seem notice you. For a moment, you considered turning and walking the other way. Maybe she didn’t want to be bothered right now. Maybe she wanted to be alone. But then again…

“Hi,” you said, before you could chicken out.

Wanda stared at you for a second before seeming to remember.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said. “You’re Peter’s…?”

“Right.” And you reintroduced yourself, just to be on the safe side. You smiled, and Wanda smiled thinly back, and there were a few seconds of silence. Oh boy. Awkwardness settled in. “So… how are you holding up?”

You asked it as though you were talking to a friend, and it only seemed to highlight the fact that Wanda hardly knew who you were. You’d actually spoken to Vision more than you had to her when you were in Westview, but… Well, that was neither here nor there.

“Alright, I think,” Wanda said. “Everyone here has been very kind.”

You nodded. “They’re a welcoming bunch.”

“But out there…” Wanda turned her gaze back to the window. “They tell me people hate your kind, fear you.”

“Some do,” you admitted. “But many don’t. It’s been getting better for mutants for quite a while now, and it’s going to keep getting better.”

“And you believe that?”

There was something harsh and cold in Wanda’s tone. You’re reminded of how much she’d lost, and how alone she’d been – how alone she still was.

“I do,” you said quietly.

Silence again. It was hard for you to get a read on Wanda. If she was giving some sort of clear signal that she wanted you to leave her alone – but she wasn’t. Before things could get awkward again, you blurted out:

“How do you feel about krofne?”

Wanda laughed, as though the question caught her off-guard, and tilted her head. “It’s been a long time since I had krofne. I like them, though.”

That was a relief. You don’t know a whole lot of recipes from the Balkans, so you would’ve been out of ideas if that didn’t exist in Wanda’s reality.

“I’ll have to make some later this week. You see that little groundskeeper’s cottage over there?” You pointed it out to her. “That’s where I live. It’d be great if you and your kids could stop by sometime.”

For a second, Wanda’s smile faltered, and you wondered if you’d overstepped yourself.

“It’s okay if you don’t,” you added hurriedly, “Or if you’d rather wait a while until you’re settled in. It’s just… I mean, I know the circumstances are completely different, but I was pretty alone when I first came here, too. I’d like to try and be your friend. Or if that’s too much, I could settle for being a tolerable acquaintance or something.”

“No, it’s alright. You just… reminded me of someone for a moment,” Wanda’s smile was still a little sad, but it seemed to come easier that time. “I’d love to bring the boys over to visit. Thank you. You’re very sweet.”

Some furtive whispering caught your attention, and you and Wanda both looked towards the source of the sound.

Ororo with a group of younger students following her like ducklings was a pretty familiar sight. She easily stepped in to the role of cool big sister for the students. She smiled at you, nudging the three girls in your direction.

“Go ahead and ask,” she said.

One of the little girls stepped forward.

“Excuse me,” she said, “The older kids said you would help us with our homework.”

She glanced back at Ororo, who gave her an approving nod.

You grinned apologetically at Wanda. “Duty calls. I’ll see you around.”

She’d smoothed the sadness out of her expression as she bid you farewell and went back to gazing out the window.

“Alright,” you said, turning your attention to the girls, “Let’s find someplace to sit down, okay? Then you can tell me what you’re working on.”

Kurt ends up walking you back to the cottage late in the afternoon. The sun sets so early in the winter, and you want to get home before it’s completely dark out. That, and you’ve given up on seeing Peter again today.

Once he’s certain that you’ll be alright on your own, Kurt takes his leave. You notice that, instead of heading straight back to the mansion, he takes the garden path. You guess that he’s heading for the little Mary garden to say a prayer or two for Vision. Kurt’s a kind soul. Even only knowing Wanda for two days, he already sees her as family.

You go about the cottage, turning on lights and looking into every room. You’re not sure why. It’s not like anything would’ve changed in the few days you’d been gone. Maybe it’s just reassuring to see it all again: the bright little kitchen, the living room with its tiny hearth and comfy loveseat (not enough room for a full sofa), your own room with all the shelves piled high with books…

And the plants on your windowsills aren’t dried out, like you’d expected. You wonder who’d been kind enough to water them for you, and resolve to ask around tomorrow.

Without giving your mind a chance to wander, you give yourself something to do. Strawberry-rhubarb pie. That’s what Peter had mentioned.

It just so happens that you do have a few jars of pie-filling left from that summer’s canning. All you’ll have to do is make up a crust and bake it. Simple enough. You put on some music and get to work.

But it’s not enough to keep your thoughts in check. When cutting a vent into the top crust, you shape it like the outline of a hummingbird. Maybe it’ll make Peter smile. You hope it will, at least.

He seems alright more often than not, but you still don’t know what’s wrong or how to help him, and the professor’s counting on you to do just that. And so, apparently, is Mr. Lehnsherr.

You’re surprised he’d stayed for the party last night. Then again, he usually ends up staying at the mansion a few days longer than he’d planned to. You can’t say for certain, but you figure Peter’s got something to do with it.

And it was Peter that Mr. Lehnsherr wanted to talk about when he approached you at the party.

He thanked you for going after him when he was taken, saying that it was a brave thing to do. You’re certain that Mr. Lehnsherr would’ve done the same, if he’d been there at the time, and you said as much. He laughed, saying that was beside the point. His gaze had drifted back to Peter.

“That boy needs someone to look after him sometimes. I suppose I’m glad that he’s found someone who will. And as for you…” His words trailed off, like he’d changed his mind on what he wanted to say. He smiled faintly and patted your shoulder. “Take care, alright?”

And with that, he’d drifted back to his conversation with Wanda, leaving you a little mystified.

Look after Peter. That’s pretty much exactly what the professor had said to you, too. But how? By making him pie? Let’s be honest – if a problem can’t be fixed with baked goods, then you’re at a loss.

You try to reassure yourself with the idea that the professor had left the situation up to you, personally. If it was anything truly dire, you knew that he’d step in to take care of it.

But then again, the professor is the sort that focuses on the bigger picture. Sometimes he loses sight of the immediate circumstances. Which is why it’d been delegated to you, which brings you right back where you started.

While you’ve been thinking yourself in circles, the pie has finished baking. You take it out of the oven to cool. The hummingbird shape has survived the baking process, so that’s good. The pie failed as a distraction, though.

All you’ve been able to think about is Peter. You love him, and something’s wrong, and you don’t know what it is, so you don’t know how to help. It’s going to drive you crazy at this rate.

Even the music you’re listening to is one of the mixtapes Peter made for you. You start getting bummed out halfway through “Rainbow in the Dark,” and you only make it through the first chorus of “Kiss Me Deadly” before turning it off entirely.

You retreat to the living room, sitting down and gazing through the window, across the grounds to the lights of the mansion. It’d started snowing that evening. You’d always liked snow. It makes everything seem cozy. It makes the silence of the night feel soft and homey, rather than empty.

Oh, what the hell. You give up on trying not to think about Peter.

When you first came to work at the school, you mostly kept to yourself. That was back when you thought that lackluster telekinesis was the extent of your abilities, before you learned you were a reality warper. You’d felt shy and inadequate in the presence of all these incredibly powerful mutants.

You’d later learned that almost everyone at the school thought you weren’t a mutant at all. They assumed that Professor Xavier had hired a regular human as some sort of PR stunt. And since you barely spoke to anyone, they weren’t disabused of the notion for a long time.

And then Peter showed up.

It wasn’t like the other faculty stopping by to introduce themselves – kind and friendly, but mostly there out of obligation. Peter showed up unannounced, and he was…

Well, he was a flirt. And you were certain he was only there for the pie. Still, you would’ve found it difficult not to be charmed by him.

He was cheerful and blunt, somehow both self-assured and self-deprecating. His sense of humor was as quick as his tongue. There was no such thing as an awkward silence when talking to Peter Maximoff. Not to mention the fact that he was exceptionally cute.

He asked if you’d be okay with him coming by again, and of course you said yes. He was at the cottage often after that – trying out your cooking and offering suggestions of music you should check out. You quickly realized that you weren’t nervous about his visits. You actually looked forward to them.

That was when the little groundskeeper’s cottage at Xavier’s school finally started to feel like home. And even if correlation doesn’t equal causation, you always felt that Peter was the reason for it.

You oughta do something nice for him. More than just the pie, that is. He could devour that thing in seconds if he wanted to. You should take him out on a date. Peter always loves a concert. You’ll have to ask around, see what local bands are playing in the coming week.

But that isn’t exactly something you can do at the moment. It’s the middle of the night. Right now, you really oughta get some sleep. After stowing the pie in the refrigerator and making a half-hearted attempt to clean up the kitchen, you turn off the lights and head off to bed.

You’d forgotten how nice it feels to sleep in your own bed after being away from it for days. You close your eyes, listening to the breeze winding around the cottage. This is alright. You’re alright. The mansion isn’t far. You’re not alone.

You’re… not alone.

Was that the door? That sound wasn’t the wind.

You’d long since given Peter permission to show up in the cottage unannounced. You’d even given him his own key.

So really, you shouldn’t be surprised, but you still jump when you roll over and see Peter standing in the doorway. You nearly knock the lamp off the table as you fumble to turn it on.

There’s something off about Peter, beyond the fact that he’s suddenly appeared in your room in the middle of the night – and, admittedly, that’s a first.

His smile is as hesitant as it’s been since he got back from Westview, but no more so. There’s unmelted snow on his shoulders, and –

Wait. Snow? Why would there be snow on his jacket? He’s too fast for that, unless…

You scramble out of bed, hurrying to him. “Peter? What’s going on? How long were you outside?”

“Oh, I’m… I’m not really sure, actually,” he says. “I figured you were sleeping, and I wasn’t sure if I should wake you up, so…”

As he speaks, you reach out to touch his face, his hands. They’re like ice.

“My God, you’re half frozen,” you say.

Ignoring his half-hearted assertions that he’s fine, really, you pull Peter into the living room. Telekinetically, you maneuver a couple logs onto the still-glowing embers in the fireplace, and while that’s happening, you tend to Peter.

He lets you take his jacket, and you sit him down on the loveseat, bundling him up in your warmest, fluffiest fleece blanket. Maybe you’re overdoing it just a little. But Peter’s almost never cold, and he certainly never stands still long enough to get covered in snow. You don’t want him getting sick on top of everything he’s already been through.

Satisfied that the fire’s been sufficiently stoked, you sit down next to Peter, taking his hands in yours to rub some warmth into them.

That sort of dazed expression has left his face, and now he just looks amused. Maybe he’s feeling better now that he had a chance to warm up. Or maybe seeing you go from zero to caretaker-mode in two seconds is funny to him. And if that’s it… well, fair enough.

Peter gives your hands a squeeze. “Listen, if you’re gonna make me into a burrito, the least you could do is join me in here. Shared body heat, and all that. I’ll warm up faster.”

He grins and bobs his eyebrows at you, lifting one edge of the blanket invitingly.

“Well, when you’re right, you’re right,” you say wryly.

You skootch under the blanket, leaning up to kiss Peter’s cheek before snuggling up next to him. He’s still radiating cold. You take his hands again.

“Care to explain yourself?” you say.

“I mean…” He shrugs. “I wanted to check on you. Your leg’s still hurt, y’know? And you’re all alone out here, and…”

Peter trails off. That surface-level explanation isn’t fooling you anymore, and he knows it. He sighs, breaking eye contact.

“I didn’t wanna be alone,” he says, softly. “Westview, it… it messed me up, and I’m not over it yet. I feel like I should be okay by now, but I’m not. I’m sorry, but I just-”

“Peter, don’t apologize,” you say. “It’s okay. Nobody expects you to completely bounce back from something like that in two days.”

“I expect me to.”

There’s that wry, self-deprecating grin again. It claws at your heart just a little. Peter genuinely is a pretty unflappable guy, all things considered. But sometimes you get the feeling that it’s because he feels like he has to be. Not that he’s putting it on, exactly, more that he’s hiding behind it.

“People here have gone through so much worse,” Peter shakes his head. “My dad, Jean, Wanda…”

“That doesn’t negate what happened to you,” you say, “And I care about what you went through. I care about you.”

Peter purses his lips and blinks rapidly as he nods, and says nothing.

Over the past few years, you’ve gotten close to Peter – closer than you’ve ever been with anyone else. You realize just now that you don’t think you’ve ever seen him cry.

“Listen, you don’t have to,” you say, “But do you want to talk about it?”

Peter takes a deep breath, like he’s steadying himself. But instead of saying anything, he leans over to bury his face in your shoulder. You immediately wrap your arms tight around him.

“I remember all of it,” he says at length, his voice quiet and shaky. “I just… It was horrible. I was scared. I was so scared.”

This doesn’t surprise you, but it stuns you. Peter gives the impression of being an open book, but he isn’t – not really. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound so vulnerable. You keep silent and gently rub his back, giving him space to speak when he’s ready.

“The whole time, I was still in there, watching everything she made me do, hearing everything she made me say. I tr-” Peter breaks off, and swallows hard before going on. “I tried to get her out of my head, but I couldn’t.”

Now that he’s started speaking, Peter can’t seem to stop. Still clinging to you, still hiding his face against your shoulder, the words keep pouring out of him.

“God, you�� you don’t know what it was like, having somebody take over and use you like a puppet. I couldn’t fight it. I couldn’t run. I was trapped. I-I was completely helpless. She made me lie to Wanda, pretend to be her dead brother, say these awful things. She could’ve made me hurt the kids, or Monica, or you – and I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself.”

“Peter…” you say, not quite knowing what you can say in this moment.

But Peter shakes his head, leaning more heavily against you.

“You don’t understand. You don’t understand – she was going to. When you came back for me at the end, when you tried to stop me, I… Now every time I look at you, I keep thinking about how close I was to hurting you. If Monica hadn’t broken that necklace, I would’ve-”

He stops abruptly, and his body is suddenly wracked with silent sobs. You hold him all the more tightly as his hands grip onto your shirt like he’s holding on for dear life.

“I’ve got you. I’m here,” you say. “I’m here.”

So this is what he’d been hiding – what he’d been pretending to have forgotten.

For a second, a spark of rage flares up in your chest, and you think that Wanda let the witch off too easy for what she’d done. But the feeling quickly smothers itself. Revenge won’t undo what’s already been done, and it certainly won’t help Peter now.

You can’t fix what’s hurting him like you could a cut or a bruise. All you can do is stay and love the hell out of him while he heals.

Slowly, his shuddering breaths grow steadier. You hold him until him he moves to sit back. He lets his hands fall in your lap. He doesn’t look up.

“I’m sorry…” he mumbles.

You shake your head, taking his hands.

“You’re allowed to cut yourself some slack, you know,” you say. “I know - that’s absolutely not your M.O. And your way can help; if you act like everything’s okay, sometimes you feel more like everything’s okay. But it can also help to be blunt about things. What you went through was traumatic, Peter. You’re allowed to say that. You’re allowed to feel it.”

He says nothing. His gaze is still fixed downwards.

“Peter, look at me,” you say gently. “Please?”

He lifts his head, and the sight of his tear-streaked face almost breaks your heart. You pull your sleeve down over your hand and use it to blot away the tears. Peter’s mouth trembles for a moment and his eyes close, but he doesn’t break down again. He just leans into your touch.

“I’ll be right back,” you say softly, kissing him on the cheek.

You hurry into the kitchen and return with a glass of water and a cool washcloth. Sitting back down, you first hand Peter the glass.

“Here,” you say, “You’ll feel better if you drink some water, trust me.”

He follows your advice, and after he’s taken a few sips and sets the glass aside, you hand him the washcloth. He scrubs his face, and then the back of his neck, and then looks a little confused as to where he’s supposed to put the washcloth. With a flick of your hand, it floats off to the kitchen sink.

You study Peter’s face for a moment. He seems to have worked the distress out of his system, or at least the first wave of it. Now he just looks exhausted. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly.

“Okay, that was… That was a lot,” he says.

Understatement of the century. It’s incredibly jarring to see the cheerful, unshakeable Peter Maximoff break down completely like that. But more than that, it worries you that he was trying to keep this buried.

“Now I get why the professor was so adamant about you taking some time off,” you say.

Peter shoots you a half-hearted grin. “Yeah… I’m not gonna lie, I was kinda trying to prove him wrong. But he was right, as usual.”

“It’s okay to give yourself time to work through this,” you say. “I mean, obviously you don’t have to go around telling everyone what you’re feeling, but… you can always tell me.”

Peter slouches down in his seat a little, leaning close to nestle his head against your shoulder.

“I didn’t want you to worry,” he says at length.

“Hate to break it to you, but that ship has sailed,” you say, fondly. “If you’re not okay, you can tell me. And if there’s something you’re not ready to talk about, you can tell me that, too. I’ll be here for you when you are.”

“Can you do me a favor?” he asks, sounding a bit hesitant. “Could you, like… check in with me now and then? Because if it’s up to me to start that kinda conversation, I get the feeling that I just… won’t. At least not right away. It’s a bad habit I gotta unlearn.”

“You can count on me,” you say.

“Well, I knew that already. But, y’know, thanks.”

You sit in silence for a moment, and you’re starting to wonder if Peter’s fallen asleep when he speaks up again.

“I don’t think I ever actually thanked you,” he says, “For coming to my rescue, I mean. Everything that you went through trying to bring me home-”

You squeeze his hand, interrupting him before he can start spiraling.

“Peter, don’t start beating yourself up over this. I love you, alright? I’d do it all again in a heartbeat if I had to. I mean, hopefully I won’t ever have to, but still,” you say, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, but still. In this case, a thank-you isn’t the kinda thing you wanna leave unsaid.” Peter sighs, then laughs a little. “My dad’s right about you, y’know.”

“Wait, what did he say about me?” You shouldn’t be surprised by it, but you’re slightly alarmed by the idea of Mr. Lehnsherr discussing you with Peter.

“He said, ‘Peter, when you find someone who cares about you that much, don’t ever take it for granted,’” he says, in a fair imitation of Mr. Lehnsherr. “‘Very little is certain in this world. See that you take care of that one.’”

“He didn’t say that,” you say, falling back on denial in the face of such a compliment.

“He did,” says Peter. “And he also said that you make the best apple strudel he’s ever tasted, so there’s that.”

You laugh, shaking your head. Still… it’s kinda nice to think that Mr. Lehnsherr approves of you. He is Peter’s dad, after all.

At hearing you laugh, Peter smiles a little, and then moves to sit up straight again, running his hands through his hair.

“I should… I should head out,” he begins.

“Why?” you interrupt. “It’s late already. Why don’t you just stay here?”

“Well, for starters, I don’t think I’m gonna fit on this thing,” he says, gesturing at the loveseat, “And there’s no way I’m taking your bed.”

“Do you kick in your sleep?”

Peter tilts his head, not quite following. “No…?”

“Then the solution is simple,” you say. “We can share my bed.”

There’ll be enough room. It’s actually kinda funny that most rooms in the mansion only have twin-sized beds, but they managed to squeeze a queen-sized mattress into the cottage’s tiny bedroom.

“Are you sure?” says Peter. “I mean, I can get back to my room in seconds, y’know, and with your knee still hurt, I don’t wanna put you out…”

You smiling faintly at him. Still trying not to worry you, is he?

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” you say, “But I recall you saying that you don’t want to be alone right now.”

Peter laughs and looks at the floor. “I don’t. Is it… is it really okay for me to stay?”

“I want you to stay,” you reassure him. “Come on.”

You push aside the blanket, and Peter helps you to your feet. You keep hold of his hand and start to lead him back to your room. But after a few steps, Peter stops abruptly, tugging at your hand.

“Wait a minute,” he says.

“What’s wrong?”

Peter goes to where you’d hung up his jacket and starts rummaging through the pockets.

“Would you believe this thing was in my pocket the whole time I was in Westview?” he asks absently. “I’d been carrying it around for a week already, and… Well, you know me. Timing was never one of my strengths.”

Peter turns back, flashing you that self-deprecating grin of his – and gets down on one knee.

“Peter…?”

It feels like all the air has been forced out of your lungs. For a second, you have the strangest certainty that you must be misinterpreting the situation, until you see the ring box in his hand.

He shakes his head, looking up at you earnestly.

“Listen, I know I’m a mess right now,” he says, “And if you want me to ask again at a better time, someplace a little more romantic, then I will – but I want to say this now. I have to, because… because nothing in life is certain, except for the fact that I love you.”

Peter takes your hand, pressing it to his lips, murmuring your name. You’re dimly aware that everything that isn’t nailed down has started to float into the air, but none of that matters. As far as you’re concerned, the only thing that exists in this moment is Peter – his hand holding yours, his smile, his big dark eyes gazing up at you.

“In the darkest, loneliest, bleakest moments of my life, you were the hope inside me that wouldn’t quit. And you can’t shrug it off or say I’m biased, because it isn’t just me,” he says. “You have brightened this place for so many people. For the students, for Kurt, for Hank, even for the professor, even for my dad, and you’re already trying to do the same for Wanda, too.”

If not for the roof above you and the anchoring warmth of Peter’s hand holding yours, you feel that you could float off over the moon. You could turn the winter to spring if he asked you to.

“You asked me to stay. I’ll stay forever, if you’ll have me,” he says. “Will you marry me?”

You want to say something eloquent. You want to tell him so many things – how much his unshakeable faith in you means to you, how you’d cross a hundred realities and face twice as many witches to make sure that he’s home and safe and happy, how much you love him – but you can’t find the words.

There’ll be time for all that later. Peter’s gazing up at you, and though there’s urgency in his expression, there’s not even the tiniest shred of doubt.

There are so many things you want to say, but all you can manage is, “Yes.”

Peter’s eyes widen, and an ecstatic smile tugs at his mouth.

“Yes…?” he repeats.

You nod, squeezing his hand. “Yes.”

If Peter beams any harder, he’ll literally start glowing. He slips the ring onto your finger, and it fits perfectly. Knowing him, he probably used his speed to find out your ring size without you ever knowing, the sneak.

He looks back up at you. Though it’s still obvious that he’d been crying not long before, his smile perfectly, genuinely happy. It’s the smile you first fell in love with, the one you haven’t seen since before he was taken, and –

And suddenly your lips tremble. Tears start welling up in your eyes. You press your hand to your mouth, blinking hard.

Peter stands hurriedly.

“Don’t cry!” he says, “Please? Because if you start crying, I’m not gonna be able to hold it together over here.”

“I’m trying!” you blurt out, laughing in spite of yourself. “I’m just really happy, okay?”

Peter pulls you close and kisses you. You wish that you’d never have to let go. And when the kiss ends, Peter keeps his arms around you.

You take a moment to look more closely at the ring. It’s a simple gold band with a single stone – an opal. Flecks of pale, fiery colors flicker within it as you shift it in the light.

“I know it’s not a diamond,” Peter says. “I kinda thought this suited you better. Diamonds seems so… ordinary, I guess, but you’re our Wild Card. If you don’t like it, I’ll get you something else. I just-”

“Peter,” you interrupt. You lace your fingers through his, smiling up at him. “It’s perfect.”

He smiles, and then a curious expression takes over. He tilts his head slightly, sniffing at the air. “Did you make a pie?”

You laugh. “Strawberry rhubarb, as requested. Do you want a piece?”

“Y’know, for once in my life?” Peter raises his eyebrows, incredulous with himself. “I don’t think I could eat a thing. I know I’m repeating myself here, but tonight’s been… a lot.”

“It’ll make a good breakfast, then,” you say. “Come on. We could both use a good night’s sleep.”

Nevermind that it was already past one in the morning. Telekinetically turning off the lights as you go, you lead Peter back to the bedroom.

It feels so… natural. It feels ordinary in the best way possible. After the chaos, the worry, the breakdown – something so domestic feels strangely cathartic. Just you and your fiancé, getting ready for bed, thinking about what you’re gonna have for breakfast the next morning.

There are plenty of uphill battles to face tomorrow, and in the days to come. But for now, a few moments of peace are more than welcome. And Peter is still Peter. He’s making himself right at home. In a blink, he’s down to his t-shirt and boxers, and settling himself in on the far side of the bed.

“Oh… Oh man, this is nice,” he says. He lays his head back on the pillow and somehow seems to sink further into the mattress, then immediately raises his head again. “You’re still sure you’re okay with me staying?”

You snort. “I just agreed to marry you. Yes, you can stay.”

“Well, it never hurts to be sure.”

And with that, he snuggles back under the comforter. Ridiculous and sweet as ever – and you wouldn’t want him any other way. You’re still worried about him, but it’s not the same sort of worry. You’ll always be worried about his safety and health and wellbeing, but you can trust that he won’t shut you out again, and that’s reassuring.

Turning off the last light, you climb into bed as well. For a moment, you both stay on your separate sides. Then Peter skootches closer, and then a little closer, and then closer again until he’s nestled against your side.

There’s a few seconds of silence before you both break down into giggles.

“Listen, I never shared a bed with somebody before,” Peter says.

“Me neither,” you admit.

“It’s nice, though.”

“Yeah, it’s nice.”

Peter wraps one arm comfortably around your waist.

“Can we maybe keep talking for a while?” he says. “Not, like, about anything specific. I just don’t wanna start overthinking again.”

He lets out a self-conscious laugh, and you lace your fingers through his. Hmm… Well, there is something you’ve been wondering about.

“I gotta ask,” you say, “Did anybody know that you were going to propose? Besides the professor, I mean.”

“In my defense,” says Peter, “I didn’t actually tell him. He just did that thing, you know? You’ve got something on your mind, and then you look up and you make eye contact with the professor, and then it’s straight panic because you know that he knows. But, uh, aside from him it was just my mom and my dad.”

Suddenly, that strange little exchange you’d had with Mr. Lehnsherr last night makes a lot more sense.

“He’s gonna be your father-in-law, y’know,” Peter says. You swear you can hear the teasing grin in his voice. “You can’t keep calling him ‘Mr. Lehnsherr’ now.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll start calling him-” And you find yourself unable to spit out the name ‘Erik.’ You pull the comforter up around your chin, muttering, “I’ll work my way up to it.”

Peter laughs. Then, apropos of nothing:

“Hey, when’s the last time you went on vacation?” he asks.

Confused, you turn your head to look at him. They’ve adjusted to the dim light enough for you to see Peter’s expression is earnest.

“Oh man, I don’t know,” you say, casting your mind back. “I know I took a couple long weekends, but I… I actually don’t think I’ve taken a real vacation since I started working here.”

“I thought so,” says Peter. “We should go somewhere together.”

“What?”

“Oh, I’m not saying we should elope or anything,” he clarifies. “I’m getting kinda traditional in my old age.”

“You aren’t even thirty-five,” you counter drily.

“Be that as it may, I’m only saying that I kinda like the idea of having a real, actual wedding,” he says, smiling when you nod in agreement, “And also that we should go someplace tropical for a couple weeks. Like, not right away. After your knee heals up some more, and after Wanda and the twins get settled in. What do you think?”

The thought of relaxing on some warm sunny beach, or watching the stars over the ocean, just the two of you – it’s incredibly tempting.

“The professor did give us time off,” you say hesitantly, “But…”

“They can find somebody else to shovel snow and substitute teach for a little while. Didn’t you ever rebel as a teenager?” he asks, mock-accusingly. “Like, even once?”

“Uh…” You struggle to think back. Did you ever?

“Wow.” Peter grins, leaning in to kiss you cajolingly. “Come on – run away with me!”

“You’re a bad influence,” you tease.

Peter tilts his head. “Is that a yes…?”

“Hmm… a couple weeks in a tropical paradise with you,” you say. When it comes down to it, this is hardly a difficult decision. “That sounds perfect.”

“Good,” he says. “We’ll make plans over breakfast.”

In the dim light, you smile at him, murmuring an I-love-you. He kisses you again, and rests his head on the pillow beside yours. He breathes in deep and, with a contented sigh, closes his eyes. The little groundskeeper’s cottage has never felt more like home than it does in this moment.

Very little in life is certain; you know that. The shadow of Westview hasn’t left Peter entirely, and it may be a long time until he’s no longer troubled by it. But you’re certain that you love him, and that he loves you. Your hand folds around his.

“Hey, Peter?” you say quietly.

“Hmm?”

“Just checking in, like I promised. How are you doing?”

Peter smiles as he presses his lips against your forehead. “Y’know what? I think I’m gonna be okay.”

“Goodnight, Peter.”

“Goodnight.”

[idealnreal]

Maruki palace overanalysis part III

Thanks to @appleyjuiceboy​ for helping with the insanity, and @goalexstark for requesting. Part I, Part II. Really long post ahead. Lots of feels.

Back into the palace monitoring room, the cables are gone. From this point on, we will encounter six journal pages, four memory rooms, and three will seeds. According to Morgana, Maruki likely never intended the memories to be seen. Will seeds are mini treasures -- aka sources of distortion. While the journal pages, like all diaries, are meant to be private. We have come to the depths of his psyche-- perhaps manifesting beliefs that he is not fully conscious of, or tries to keep hidden from others. And in this second-third of the palace (starting from the cables to the garden puzzle) we also see his systematic view of the world in full force. This will be a long post.

So starting with this first part, we come to a dimly lit corridor with similarly dimly lit rooms full of filing cabinets and mini monitoring rooms with circular stations. In one of the filing cabinet rooms, we find the first journal entry. Before we get into the text, it’s interesting to note that the journals are signified by a mess of papers strewn about, with the metaverse logo sorta watermarked over it. We will see the same sort of mess again in the memory rooms. For someone who is quite calm, organised and systematic, these messes always signal something important or emotional for him. One can imagine Maruki, flustered and upset, searching for something, throwing the papers around.

The first journal entry is found sticking out of some filing drawer. The text is as follows:

“ Feb. 2. Tomorrow is Rumi’s birthday. I’ll be meeting her parents … My hands have been shaking an awful lot lately. Will they let their daughter marry a low-level researcher like me? Now I’m getting even more anxious… When I told Rumi how nervous I’m getting, she just laughed and said I think too much. She may not have understood my problem, but I do so love her laugh. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep with my nerves like this, but I need to lie down anyway. I’ve been getting the worst headaches lately… I might be pushing myself too hard for this thesis. I just really want to be in top form tomorrow. I know this diary was originally just for research notes, but now I hope I can look back at it with Rumi someday and feel nostalgic.”

When Maruki set the February 3rd deadline, he said that this was the day “ I lost everything that mattered to me,”. Rumi and her parents were attacked on the night of her birthday, and on the night they announced their engagement to her parents. The night that was supposed to be happy and full of hope for the future became the worst possible night of his life.

Maruki seems to suffer from some anxiety -- but of course any person would have nerves before announcing an engagement. He’s worried that he isn’t good enough for Rumi or her parents. That they wouldn’t accept him as a son-in-law, or as part of the family because of his occupation and standing.

It also seems that even at this point, he has started to awaken to his persona, with the headaches and shaking hands. This is interesting because within this game’s logic the person needs to have at least some interaction with the Metaverse and have a will of rebellion to awaken to their persona -- or to even start awakening to it. He was already working on cognitive pscience at this point, and he was aware of the potential benefits of it’s use -- as a form of psychiatric therapy. He was already rejecting the status quo of life and of his field -- there was another way, a more effective way, to heal people. And it’s also possible that this note is hinting that he has had some fleeting interaction with the Metaverse. Afterall, we see that people who first enter the Metaverse experience headaches. But the game doesn’t give any more hints on this.  

The second journal note is also within the same area, near what looks to be some kind of video tape archive. The note reads:

“ Apr. 9. I just can’t believe what’s happened. I’ll never see Rumi’s parents again… I don’t even know if Rumi will ever come back to me. Her heart’s been completely closed off ever since that day. Why did this happen? What did Rumi do to deserve this? Do we really have to go on suffering these consequences? My headaches are getting worse -- I’m even starting to hear things. Am I having some kind of breakdown? I can’t lose it … I have to do something to help Rumi.”

This entry is dated two months after the incident. We don’t see any entry in between, or any hint or any other expansion into what really happened during the incident. As far as we are told by Maruki himself is that it was a burglary that killed two people and maimed a third. Which to me, is highly suspicious. Burglars would not kill, not even when they are desperate. And it’s even more unlikely in Japan with one of the world’s lowest murder rates.

We know for a fact that Maruki tends to lie or wave away details when it comes to his own past and own feelings. Like when Ryuji asked him if highschool is when he first found romance, and when Maruki said that he and Rumi just broke up because he was ‘spineless’. I suspect there is a lot more about this incident that Maruki isn’t admitting to us-- but neither the palace nor the game ever explains it. (I have a theory, but that’s for another day).

If there is more to it than a burglary, it’s very likely that he’s suppressed it so much and hid it away somewhere that we never get to access. It’s also telling that all references to the incident are all in relation to Rumi’s pain and how it was she who suffered that night. He never even admits that he too lost something that night, and is still suffering from the trauma.

So the two months between the entries as well as the opening two lines, also signal that he was indeed traumatised by it. It’s not hard to imagine that in those two months, he couldn’t process what happened, and even by April, he still questions accepting reality. He also thinks that he’s having a breakdown -- and one doesn’t need to be a psychiatrist to know that when one starts having auditory hallucinations, it means something is really wrong in the brain department. Of course, we can infer that these hallucinations are Azathoth trying to manifest, but as far as Maruki knew, he was indeed losing it. But he forces himself to pull it together, to suppress this pain and to hide his symptoms, for Rumi -- and for his research.

It is likely that he avoided getting help or admitting that he was suffering from migraines and hallucinations. The chances of his research being funded, accepted, and published, all hinges on his reputation as a researcher. And unfortunately, as much as Japan has come a long way -- it is still detrimental to any professional to be diagnosed with a mental disorder. We also know that at this point he was already looking for funders and backers for his research -- reputation becomes everything.

We come to a room that looks like a server room, and this is where his first will seed is. The server room is a mess of tendrils and cables -- while the door itself is barred by a holographic lock, and some branch-like tendrils. The ‘flower’ looking textures that surround the door are holograms again of what looks like circuits.

Voice tracks will usually play upon opening a will seed door, which is usually the palace ruler reinforcing their distortion, and Maruki’s voice track is one of the more audible ones. The tracks will play randomly for each door, so there’s no order to things. Thanks to Jester for making out what they say:

“R-Rumi… I-I…”

“No matter what I need to do… I’ll reach my goal.”

“What can I do to make you understand?”

“What’s wrong with an alternate reality if everyone is happy?”

“I’m so close… just a little further…!”

“Just a little more… and everyone will be happy…”

“Why… why can’t we come to an agreement…?”

The man is tired, and he’s pushing himself to keep going. Some of the tracks are also questions, probably in response to Joker and the Phantom Thieves, trying to reason with them.

Moving on from this, we find more monitoring rooms, with lots of screens, cables, and glass floors that look down into what looks to be server rooms. The rooms are typically dark, illuminated only by the neon teal lights and screens.

We also then come across the first locked gate, with an authentication question. The fact that these gates require the intruder to at the very least know some parts of his past -- signify that he does want people to understand him and where he’s coming from, as uncomfortable as it is. This is especially important given how closed off he was about his past prior to this-- represented by the fact that the only way you can get these answers is watching memory tapes that, according to Morgana, are likely memories he has tried to suppress. Speaking of which…

Before we go into the memory itself, I want to note the design of these rooms. As highlighted before, messes like strewn paper, disorganised shelves, represent something emotional or upsetting for him. And no better is that demonstrated than in these memory rooms. Papers are strewn, filing boxes and books are stacked haphazardly, filing baskets and stools lay toppled. There is no clear organisation or consistency in these rooms -- and it looks as if someone had come in, thrown everything around, as if searching.

These rooms look very old-school research rooms and are lit only by an old CRTV -- in direct contrast to the high-tech aesthetic the rest of the palace has. And most of all these rooms look abandoned and forgotten. These rooms hint at the core of his self -- before he became obsessed with healing the world, the self that was confused and lost after the Incident.

It’s also interesting to note the fact that his memories play on the very small CRTV -- while in comparison earlier Sumire’s memories played on a wide screen LCD TV. He puts even more distance with his own (grainy) memories than the memories of someone else.

Okay, now we get to the first memory tape.

It starts off in Rumi’s hospital room. And from a later journal entry, we know that this is at least sometime in August, which means its been six months since the Incident, and four months since Takuto began to write in his journal again. Rumi is in a catatonic state, and it seems that she is somewhat responsive -- even if she can’t speak or move much.

Takuto is trying to cheer her up by suggesting that he bring her snacks and flowers. His tone is cheerful and gentle, knowing that Rumi can understand him -- but is simply unable to respond or speak. He knows she’s traumatised, so much to a point that she’s too scared to move. He’s trying to show her that it’s safe, and most importantly, that he’s there for her. Being an empath, loving her as much as he does -- this would’ve been incredibly painful for him. But for her sake, he tries to smile.

He then goes into telling her what’s been going on in his life, and explaining his research and how he wants to use it. From this, we know at least one of the first uses he envisioned for cognitive pscience was to stop crime before it’s committed, by changing distorted cognitions that lead people to doing bad things. He wants to make sure what happened to Rumi would never happen to anyone else. This is perhaps going one step further than what the PT are doing. Yes they’re both stopping criminals, but in Takuto’s conception -- it’s stopping crimes before there are any victims, rather than waiting for victims to be created.

He also tells her that there are some potential investors into his research, and that theres a chance that research into cognitive pscience will be properly funded. He’s excited for it because it is the first step to bringing cognitive pscience into real practical use. This also hints that at least for the past few months, he’s been working on his research again -- and trying to hide his symptoms (re: hallucinations, migraines) because he’s actively looking for funders.

He tells her that the ‘culprit’ has been caught and that she doesn’t need to worry anymore. He then mentions ‘Family’, and Rumi responds to that, repeating ‘Family’, then ‘Takuto’. As far as we can tell, these together seem to be her triggers -- and she’s sent into a PTSD episode. She yells for her parents to be given back, and cries out for them. Takuto tries to calm her down, but is unable to until the nurses arrive and (probably) sedate her.

This is another hint that the Incident was more than a simple burglary -- and somehow Takuto was more involved in the Incident than simply a bystander who couldn’t protect her when the burglar ‘was trying to escape’. And it’s also suggested that during this Incident, Rumi’s parents were being held -- perhaps as hostages?

I have a theory that the Incident was really more of an attempted assassination of Takuto -- very likely by Shido (who we know does know of Takuto’s research). While we don’t know the exact years the Incident took place -- from the journal notes, we can safely say its AT LEAST two years prior to the start of the game. I would go further to say that this was before Wakaba’s death or even Goro’s awakening, because it seems that Shido doesn’t yet have the power to cause mental shutdowns. And because of that, he’s would try the old fashioned way to shut Takuto’s research down.

However, instead of killing Takuto, Rumi and her parents suffered. It’s also interesting to note --IF this theory is true -- why Takuto was left alive. But thats pure hc territory which i’ll leave for another time.

Also another hint to support this is basically other hints that Takuto -- like Sumire-- suffers from survivor’s guilt. He even mentions it when speaking to Joker and Goro in the beginning of the palace. It’s also hinted by the fact that Takuto has managed to change Sumire’s cognition so drastically that even he was surprised. This was because of how she spoke, and how she suffered from intense survivor’s guilt. But i’ll get into this more when we get to the third memory tape.

The doctor explains to Takuto that she was triggered, and Takuto knew that it was his own words that triggered her. He apologised for it -- and muses that she needs to be ‘set free from that horrible tragedy’. It’s at this point that his migraines return and he hears a voice. Then, Rumi starts to speak, “Takuto … Please… Stop this. I … Want to… forget,”

Rumi made her wish, and Takuto began to understand how exactly cognitive pscience can make that possible. And again, he hears the voice, clearer this time -- enough for him to understand and respond to it. In that moment, desperate to put an end to Rumi’s pain, to fulfil her wish -- he agrees to Azathoth (perhaps forming a contract and semi-awakening to Azathoth). In the Japanese audio version, he actually screams this part. Oof.

In an instant, her cognition is changed and she wakes up as a different Rumi -- a Rumi who’s parents had died when she was young, who lived with her grandparents, and therefore, a Rumi who has never met or grown up with Takuto. She’s forgotten everything that caused her pain before.

Takuto, shocked at this, begins to fumble around for a cover story -- trying to explain to this new Rumi why he was in her room and why he knew her name. Despite the dawning realisation that she has truly forgotten him, he tries to be cheerful and plays it off when she shows concern for him. He would do anything to make her happy, and anything to preserve her happiness, even if it is horribly painful for him.

The interaction ends when Rumi asks why he won’t be visiting again and “what about your girlfriend?”, and he replies by “She … passed away,” In this moment, Rumi’s portrait disappears from the text box -- signifying a stark break in Takuto’s perception of her. The Rumi he knew and loved really has passed away, and this -- he convinces himself-- is another Rumi. A Rumi that he must not see again.

He stands to leave, telling her that he hopes she feels better soon and “ I know the people who care about you wish the same”.

So for him, just as his life was starting to get back together after the literal worst night ever -- just as his research was starting to get funders -- he loses his fiance and long time love. This follows the same pattern as before, where the night of the incident was supposed to be a happy night where their engagement is announced, followed by a horrible attack and murder (possible assassination attempt on his life too). But that’s allright, hes NOT in pain!!! and suspicious of any good thing that comes his way!! because now, she can be happy. And that was more important than his own happiness!!! 

Oof. Okay this got long and heavy. Gonna end this here ! Stay tuned for part 4.