imagineitdearies · 10 months ago
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Hey! I really admire your writing and seeing your answers to other anons you seem pretty approachable so I wondered if you could give me your view on an issue I got about making content.
I really want to start doing content for the bg3 fandom, I have been in fandoms befor but always just watching/reading but with bg3 I really feel like it would be cool to actually write something or post things about my tav but when I start I often feel like "Is this really worth posting? Maybe I should just not bother." I was wondering if you ever had a problem like that?
And maybe if you got any tips on actually keeping up with pushing yourself to bring all the things in your head to paper. I sometimes feel like I almost get lost in how scenes are in my head, so when I start to write I feel like I can't do it justice. Do you ever hit a roadblock like that?
Thanks in advance! Looking forward to reading more of perfect slaughter!
Hi anon! I'm glad I seem friendly, I try to be 😂
I was also super nervous about writing for the bg3 fandom at first, because I'm used to writing for an established ship with two characters that anyone clicking on the tag are guaranteed to want to see together! But even if you're writing for the most popular Tav pairing (Astarion/fem!OC), it doesn't mean people care about your Tav. Really, Astarion is the only tie that binds at the start, not the other side of the ship. And that can make it super nerve-wracking and harder for people to be interested--which might be why there's a high prevalence for Y/N or reader insert pairings.
I knew readers would need to like my Tav fairly quickly or they'd click out of the fic (and I'm sure many have). With that plus the fact my story content was really dark....I wasn't surprised when I saw little interest until chapter 4, but I was definitely asking the same questions as you. Luckily the right kinds of people started to find the fic around then, however, so I felt motivated to keep sharing!
But as far as motivation to write in general, I think all great fanfics have one thing in common--they're as self-indulgent as possible. You're not getting paid for this, after all!! If you as the author aren't having the time of your life writing, worried about what other people might like, you won't have fun and you'll likely end up abandoning the story (speaking from past experience). For Perfect Slaughter, I had already written chapter 12 by the time I posted chapter 1, because it was first and foremost for me and posting it to share with others who might like it was very secondary, almost an afterthought. I wrote simply because the idea burned like a Cazador compulsion in my head, like a tadpole in my brain!!
So, to put it more succinctly, I'd recommend you find a story/premise you're passionate enough about that you want to write it whether you think someone else will end up reading it or not. That way, you're having a great time, and your story is more likely to be unique and interesting to others!
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steven-has-exploded · 3 months ago
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ive yet to really see anyone else point this out but i think fyodor is going to end up being one of the most gut-wrenchingly unstable and sympathetic (to ME atleast) characters in bsd. what i perceive as foreshadowing for this has all been pretty vague, but thats really only further ammunition considering the way asagiri likes to write via throwing the wildest shit at us out of nowhere at 50mph and expecting us to deal with it. how did i first come to this conclusion? harukawas eye thing
this is going to be long please proceed with caution if you read slowly or just not at literal supersonic speed. rant under cut u know how this works
for those unaware or who have since forgotten the exact details, here is the image explaining harukawas thing with eyes, click to read;
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so. fyodors eyes are usually very light, which a few other people have pointed out is probably due to the fact he genuinely believes his goal of ridding the world of abilities is following gods will; almost everything he does is a necessary evil to acheive the idealistic dream of a world without abilities. he understands his actions are wrong, but you cant go through with a goal such as that without doing morally reprehensible things in the process. anws so as user wildflowerteas pointed out his eyes are extremely dark after hes resurrected
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now, could this just be signifying that fyodor can now continue doing his fucked up little deeds via his functional immortality? yes. but asagiri doesnt seem to write that way and i need an excuse to defend fyodor because im insane
asagiri generally doesnt write characters, especially important ones, as subscribing to one specific side of the moral compass. sure, there are characters that are more morally good or bad or gray than others, but not every one of their actions is as such. characters arent straight heroes or villains in their actions, and sometimes not even narratively; fitzgerald did everything for his wife to finally be happy and see her daughter again, dazai still trained akutagawa the way he did despite knowing it was abusive because his circumstances couldnt allow him to change before oda died, et cetera
so, lets interpret it another way. fyodors eyes being dark after resurrection may not be a reflection of his sinister personality, but rather the way he views and experiences his own countless deaths. he is purified in death and tainted when hes brought back; at peace in his last moments and destroyed when hes alive again. so what conclusion did this realization bring me to? fyodor is a suicidal maniac and hates his ability hear me out Please
in hindsight it seems really obvious to me now; what other reason could have spurred him on to try to desperately to erase abilities if not because he himself despises his own? his ability is truly the purest act of cruelty someone can experience when driven to the point he has been; it lets him bask in the calm of death, the comfort of everything finally ending, the solace that hes going to be finally rewarded for his actions by god. but only for a moment. once that moment is over, hes torn back into the world of the living, in the body of his own killer, the corpse of his last vessel staring him in the face as if to mock him for what he could never have. it deprives him of the human right to even die. what kind of person who claims to love all humanity wouldnt want to free the world of abilities, if others' have caused them as much pain as his has to him?
okok i apologize for making u hear me wax poetic about an anime twink version of fyodor dostoevsky but if youre still not convinced, which is ok i can see why this would be very insane to someone who isnt obsessed with this guy, i want you to just imagine for a moment how living with that kind of power would effect you. while we dont know fyodors exact age, we can assume that hes been alive for at least about 500 years due to his ability. fyodor isnt some kind of immortal being that has a conveniently human form, he is an actual human being who was first murdered presumably just in his twenties based on his appearance, who then had to slowly come to the realization that he will experience small spots of death before having to continue the same cycle of immortality for forever. human beings cant grasp the concept of infinity; our brains arent wired to deal with the idea, because everything in our own lives comes to an end. fyodor will never experience that. even if you view him as plain evil, pure and simple, no human being wishes to have their brain broken by the hands of infinity. and yet thats what fyodor is experiencing
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huellitaa · 9 months ago
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𖹭𓂃 ࣪˖ saying no
something ive struggled with for pretty much my entire life 😭
𐙚๋࣭ people pleasing:
a person who consistently strives to please others, often sacrificing their own wants or needs in the process.
trouble with saying no to people often comes from insecurity. when you feel bullied into things or backed into a corner too often it can lead to agreeing with everything and anything just so people will like you.
1. take small steps
getting out of habits like this are not easy whatsoever and take lots of time. taking small steps to implement getting rid of people pleasing tendencies is the best way to go about this; for example, just blocking someone who bothers you and starting from there.
2. fake it till you make it !
confidence is something absolutely essential but not easy to attain; thats where this skill comes in handy. ive been doing this since i was little and i wont lie and say it melts into real confidence because it doesnt, its just a shield to hide behind until your are genuinely confident and id definitely recommend this 100% to anybody starting or struggling to try and break this habit. act like youre fine & unaffected in front of the people who put you in this position even if you arent. dont show your weaknesses when you know they can be used against you.
3. valuing yourself
value yourself over all else. you are the most important person in your life. validate, support, and value yourself. trust your judgement is right and prioritise the protection of your peace above all else because that is the most important thing.
4. body language
ok as a girl with an incredibly infuriating tendency to turn red over the tiniest thing i feel a little bit of a hypocrite writing this but this is very very very important. if you find yourself in a position where you feel unable to refuse something or anything of the sort you do not show that.
🩰 ─ even if your cheeks turn red act like they arent. ik its sosoosos embarrassing n ur screaming inside but act like its nothing. bcs it is nothing. ok so theres a tiny bit of colour in your cheeks. and? stand your ground.
🧸── back straight, shoulders high, face blank. you dont show anything on your face. show you are completely stubborn and set on your choice/opinion.
🎀 ── if they try to embarrass you or say smth what i do is i literally just blink at them like okay. i dont care. do whatever bro idgaf
5. no hesitation
for the love of god do not second guess yourself. if something makes you upset or uncomfy or anxious or anything like that you leave them you walk away from them you block them you do not second guess yourself and think "but what if" no idc. if it costs you your peace its too expensive.
6. does this help me?
ok obviously when i say to say no i dont mean to like everything. only to the things you do anyway even if you dont want to. if youre not sure what to do when faced with the option to do something you ideally wouldnt really want to the first question you should be asking yourself is "does this help me?" think of it only from your perspective and how it would help you. ask yourself if its really necessary and if its serving you in any way to do this. if its just to fit in with someone else even if you dont really want to then do it then dont do it. why isnt your own presence enough? your peace is the only priority you should have here. what would you tell someone you love in your position? think about it for a sec instead of panicking.
conclusion; people pleasing is useless. you are the centre of ur universe. your peace is the only priority. people are stupid. you can do this. dont let anyone make you feel less than you are. i love u 🫶🩷
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nerves-nebula · 11 months ago
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Sorry just saw a post saying you do actually DO get taught media literacy and critical thinking in English classes and I was homeschooled until high school, but Ive also been to three different high schools across two states of america- which isn’t a lot but is more than most people get (assuming that most people go to one high school for four years instead of switching schools every year) and let me tell you. The English teachers almost always had the same problem. And I generally liked them all! English wasn’t a class I super hated!!!
Even my favorite English teachers didn’t really end up fostering a love of reading into the material or actually critically thinking about stuff.
What they all liked to do was talk about and lead you into THEIR interpretation to the point of basically dismissing any other readings. At best you’d get a “that’s a good point too, but I was thinking of something else” and at worst they’d basically just dismiss it with a clear lack of interest. As if you didn’t “get the point” for focusing on something else.
I remember this because there were a lot of times when I was bursting to talk about the parallels id drawn of the assignment to my personal experiences but I was too embarrassed or afraid or annoyed to because the few times i or anyone else tried to speak up the teachers were basically uninterested unless you hit on the specific reading they were obsessed with. At which point they’d talk at length about symbolism and stuff that, while interesting to me, was also hella annoying!!
My English classes made me afraid to get into academia because they all made it seem like there were one or two proper ways to read a story and if you didn’t immediately come to one of those conclusions then you’d be treated like you were stupid or hadn’t actually read the text.
This post also claimed that English classes teach you how to spot misinformation ???? The only thing even close to that would be history classes where we would sometimes discuss propaganda. Most of English class is reading assigned literature and then painfully sitting through the teacher trying to lead us into their interpretation. And sometimes you get to write things.
At MOST you’re gonna get the teacher telling you that something an author says is incorrect or a lie or that they’re biased but you don’t usually practice how to spot misinformation when you’re not prepped to find it.
I gained more critical thinking skills from being annoyed by the teachers readings and tearing them apart in my head than I did from any actual assignments. But that’s because I already cared about stories! So i wouldn’t have even had that if I didn’t already have some kind of interest in the classes subject matter!
Does all this stuff you’re supposedly taught in English class happen before high school?? What schools are you guys going to because from my experienced, American high school English classes (like a lot of classes) don’t really teach you shit unless you’re already interested in the subject.
I also think it’s pretty useless and mean spirited to imply people who didn’t learn that stuff were just idiots who didn’t pay attention. It’d be way more helpful to encourage people to want to learn stuff after school ends!! Not just because learning is fun but also because I feel like a lot of people see learning as something you can only do in schools & such and don’t see all the opportunities for self improvement past that!
Sorry I have no idea why a single one paragraph post bothered me so much, I think it’s cuz it’s past 10 pm 😭😭😭 so slightly annoying things lead to entire damn rants. I don’t even know if they were talking about American education I just was suddenly flooded with a ton of memories and barfed them out here.
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slymewitch · 11 months ago
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Christmas Carol autism rant
Honestly of all the stories and songs and such that get oversaturated during christmas, I unironically enjoy how many versions of A Christmas Carol there are. Not only because its a good story in general, but because unlike something like Rudolph, every single version has a uniqueness to them. The simplicity of the plot allows for so much messing around with the setting, the timeline, the mood, its all so malleable. And then there are the characters. Scrooge, Marley, and the ghosts specifically are all fairly simple archetypes, but because of their simplicity, each variant of the story can expand on said archetypes however they want, heck they can even completely zigzag the archetypes and put something completely different in the slot of one of the characters. Especially for the ghosts. Usually they’ll just go with the archetypes of angel, santa, death, but every single version gives the trio their own flavor. An angel can be a lot of things, like a girl, or a candle, or a dirty taxi driver, or the Eleventh Doctor. But Scrooge himself is probably the most interesting. Compared to the other characters in the story, he’s the one that changes the least between each adaptation on the surface. Grumpy old man, hates christmas, greedy, bad childhood, bad friends, bad breakup, the works. These guidelines are mostly unflinchingly rigid, but the exact brand of bitterness, and the details of the events, are left up to whoever’s writing. My favorite version by far though is unironically the Muppets version. Unlike most other adaptations, Scrooge doesn’t seem that hateful in that version. He still does the same greedy and evil crap as the other Scrooges, but he isn’t as angry as the rest are. You don’t get the impression that he hates anyone, and he seems more depressed than anything else. Even when he outright says that poor people should die, he just sounds done. Like he’s only saying it because he doesn’t care enough to filter what he says. And of all other Scrooge’s he’s the most willing to change. When he’s shown his past he immediately brightens up upon seeing simpler, more familiar times. When hes with the ghost of christmas present and sees the cratchets and his nephew, he makes the least wisecracks of any other Scrooge, and seems genuinely hurt by how lowly people think of him. And when yet to come arrives, he goes with him willingly, knowing that this is something he must face if he wants to be saved. Oh yeah, if you can’t tell, the muppets version is my favorite, the Marleys scene solidified Statler and Waldorf as my favorite muppets and is easily the highlight of the movie for me. But for some close contenders, George C Scott’s version is definitely the creepiest version Ive ever seen and it gives a lot more context about Scrooge’s life than most others. The Ghost of Christmas present is surprisingly intimidating, and dear GOD yet to come gives me chills. It’s strange how much mileage you can get out of a creaking gate sound effect. The Doctor Who version is also a personal favorite for being both weird and clever at the same time. Weird because its on an alien planet where sharks float in the air and can be used to drive chariots, but still SUPER clever for how it screws around with the story. I dont want to spoil too much, mostly because I want an excuse to not explain how bonkers the story is, but the way they mess with the “past present and future” theming is genius, because of course it was this is doctor who we’re talking about. And of course theres Spirited which is also extremely clever with how it messes with the story, but is also just really fun and charming to watch.
I’ve already written so much that I do not have the energy for a well written conclusion so uh, my point is that Christmas Carol adaptations are awesome despite the fact they probably shouldn’t be, and um…stay hydrated!
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solipsistful · 5 months ago
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director’s cut on automatisms? 👀👀
this took a while to figure out what to even say, but i think i'll go chapter by chapter and say something interesting about each of them
but i'll first say that the very first unfinished draft of Automatisms was actually a NaNo project by Serpent, which i (ace) then took over and rewrote into its current form. so i'll be making this post and seeing if he wants to chime in (not that anyone except me has been particularly talkative lately rip)
XX01: Re-entry
i love that the fic starts (after the pretentious epigraph, im sorry) with a canon line. not only does it temporally set Automatisms as essentially an alternate Acceptance, but i think highlights how it really does follow from Control's canon experiences. like, i could absolutely see an argument that Control canonically just has a dissociative disorder (Authority begins with a dissociative episode, his guides…).
funnily, it wasn't actually any of our idea to go "what if him plural". that was a friend lol.
XX02: Breaching
Finally, a conclusion. Denouement. Control let out the breath he hadn’t intended to hold.
my desire to copy canon's style means hooray narrative (and ghost) metaphors.
XX03: Returning
this chapter has the big freaking problem of being extremely important in canon but not at all changed by Control getting some Lowry commentary. i know one answer would be to just… not follow canon so closely, but shh.
what this means is that it's basically best to read this fic with a very good memory for what happens in Acceptance, which probably isn't great. (i fall into the exact same problem with Doubled)
XX04: Waking
ive mentioned this before, but isn't it fun that Lowry's first time fronting alone occurs off-screen and is never really discussed explicitly? something with Narrative there. (it's also fun how canonically that's just Control having a freeze reaction to the biologist anyway, "playing dead to keep his head")
XX05: The lighthouse
god we had the HARDEST TIME deciding what person and tense Lowry's sections should be in. there's several version of this chapter trying to figure out first vs second vs maybe just third? and present vs past. first person present eventually won out as Special enough, even if i struggle to write it (even more than second person). it also leaves second person for the voice of Area X-as-narrator later, which is probably better.
and then Absolution is just gonna be plain old third person past, boo.
XX06: Somewhere else
just some Control reckoning with wtf is Lowry even doing in his head. i mean, it's an important question, like the most important thing in the world for Control right now, but it's sorta hard coming up with scenes where he can both think/talk about that without just going in circles about how unanswerable it is.
XX07: The tower
i hope this chapter feels as Significant as i intend it to be. this is, after all, the real moment of divergence from canon: Control never goes down the tower!
there are, like chapter 5, versions of this chapter where the "beckoning" is in the first person vs second person, italicized or different fonts or right-aligned or not set apart from the rest of the text at all, etccc. i Care about this formatting stuff okay. (had to go digging into how AO3 work skins work at all in order to get the chapter numbers right, for instance, lol)
XX08: The border
it really strikes me, given what we've seen of Absolution, that Lowry should be way more over-the-top in his reactions here lol. he's not a quiet shut down type like Control; he's over the top and angry and should have, i dunno, punched a tree or something. oh well. maybe he's just relying on not being in the body to give him some distance from basically the worst thing imaginable that could happen to him in this moment.
XX09: The teeth
ok i told myself i wouldn't say this about all the chapters, but i think this chapter in particular should've been longer lol. i mean, it's a Good Chapter, but that's why it should've been longer! there's a lot of implications of things that probably should've been explored more. i'm thinking in particular of Lowry wanting to go retrieve the videos. this is the guy who retrieved the videos from the first expedition, as awful as that must have been. he's abandoning all that and the first expedition overall by leaving the SR building.
ah well.
XX10: The throat
i think im so clever for the "are you real" repeat
XX11: Humanity
after all that kerfuffle over whether Lowry would be in the first/second/third person, we actually hadn't considered what that would look like when Lowry and Control were blurring, whoops. so, good thing that we decided on the first person, because that makes blurring into "we" instead of like. "yall" lmao.
XX12: Exorcism
how do you write hypnosis (especially from the point of view of the hypnotized)
i mean the real point of this chapter is just "look at my theory/interpretation that Lowry's hypnosis is linked to Area X's narrative control and isn't that fun"
XX13: Memory
i don't know what to say about this one. character discussions!
XX14: Disposition
this is simultaneously a filler chapter and also i should've spent longer dealing with things like Lowry having food issues (which is something i had sorta drawn from Acceptance but here is influenced by all the Absolution tidbits in which he's obsessing over eating animals in Area X lol).
but mostly it's a filler chapter because by this point, i knew that the second half of the fic would use all the same chapter titles in reverse, and i have Disposition2 already written so Disposition1 has to exist.
Bonus Sneak Preview: XX15: Escape
obviously a lot of my fic-writing efforts have been spent towards WOE.BEGONE lately, but i think another reason why Automatisms has been going slowly is that this next chapter includes a large change in time and context. so, i'm sorta wanting to think through whether there's anything in the old context that I still want to do before i decide on A Change. but really i should probably just go ahead and do the Change. as hinted above, i have a lot of post-Change stuff written. :>
- ace and no Serpent as it turns out whoops
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swiftfootedachilles · 8 months ago
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MY BEHAVIOR AND RESPONSES REGARDING WHAT EXACTLY??? stop being vague and get fucking specific. unless you HAVE nothing to be specific about because i have done absolutely nothing to garner the hate ive been receiving for MONTHS. the only reason i even said that personal shit about my relationship or lack thereof with judaism in response to your ask is so you understand that i didnt wake up one day and go "today im going to spread misinformation on the internet" i was explaining that i try to learn my shit before i go posting stuff on the internet regarding cultures that i am not a part of and customs i do not follow. i wasnt trying to gain sympathy points, i wasn't doing a "woe is me" schtick. i couldnt care less about how you or anyone else on here feels about me. it was simply me stating that i wasn't trying to misrepresent, stereotype, or negatively convey any jewish cultural beliefs
i cannot "google it" because you didnt even say what specifically i misrepresented or fetishizes about jewish customs... i learned about jewish wedding traditions, then i made a post mentioning some of those traditions because i thought it wouldve been nice to see said traditions in regards to the fictional characters Ian Gallagher and Mickey Milkovich getting married in the television show Shameless. i did not write the episode where they revealed a shitty white supremacists to be also jewish. thats a completely separate conversation to have. i only brought up that episode because an anon was confused as to why i made a post mentioning mickey being jewish. that is what youre so pissed over. again, if i misrepresented something, i wouldnt know because - despite the fact that YOU are the one who send me an ask and made me aware that my post was apparently fetishization - you have not specified what i said to make you come to this conclusion
since you wont tell me what the hell i said that upset you so much and you refuse to respond to me privately, i guess ill have to explain myself here publicly
i can only assume that you already disliked me before today and are just looking for reasons to disassociate with me like all your friends are doing. luckily i still have followers, mutuals, and real friends who have critical thinkings skills and still support/love me despite whatever bullshit is going on in this dumbass fandom right now. whatever. i would love to hear from other people on this since the person who originally raised this concern is not responding to me. do you find it inappropriate or unethical to discuss - specifically in fandom spaces - communities you are not a part of? is that the problem here, or is there something i missed?
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khodorkovskaya · 2 years ago
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19.04.23
im getting my very own ice skates this saturday and i couldn't be more excited!!!!!! <3
yesterday my mum and i talked about how i should apply for masters bc the deadline is on the 30th. and it's very annoying idk. does anyone else hate talking about potential? like the whole "but you have so much potential!" talk. idk, it frustrates me.
i had a classmate back in igcse and my bestie and i were laughing about this the other day. because this girl took herself sooo seriously! she had to have A's in all of her subjects and then when she did the IB she had to have the highest score in everything. and then she got into this very prestigious uni and did ted talks and was like a perfect student in everything. and everyone was like "ohh she has so much potential, she's so good". and yes, the girl was very smart and talented that's for sure. and now she works for heinz. and idk, im probably being mean but like there's something so funny about it. like she put so much effort into studying and doing all this extracurricular stuff and she excelled at everything for what? to work for a ketchup company? like adjdhjdfh she sells beans to people 😭😭😭 anyway, it's probably not funny but my bestie and i were like rolling on the floor about this the other day lmao. and i really don't want to work for a ketchup company, that's all im saying.
because like what does "having potential" even mean? like being a shop manager is not my level, but writing emails for a ketchup company is? i really don't get it.
anyway, i thought a bit about B again bc i saw him the other day. and i came to a conclusion that i want my next relationship to be the opposite of what we had with B. here's what i mean:
i want my next relationship to be a friends to lovers kind of thing. like i want to be friends with the person first. to be sure that we have things in common and like common activities and hobbies and stuff.
i want looks and all the physical stuff to be secondary. so again, i want to be with this person because they're my friend, not because i find them physically attractive. if they happen to have dark brown eyes, that's a bonus. but not like a must must. i don't want to be in a relationship with someone just because they're hot.
i want to take a long time before having sex with them bc im very sensitive and emotional and i need to feel safe. so, again, friendship first and sex comes much later. if there's no sex in the relationship, im fine with that too.
i want us both to have similar values and know what we want out of the relationship, not like a "fuck around and find out" kind of thing. so this year im really focusing on trying to figure out what my values are and what i want/need. and i want my partner to have figured things out too.
so yeah, this might happen next year or in 10 years or when im retired or maybe even never. but that's how i want things now. either this kind of relationship or celibacy, ive decided.
i was very happy with this conclusion and then the sun set and nostalgic thoughts about B came up again... i looked at photos of us when we went to sarajevo last year. and there's this feeling of like... impending doom (not to be dramatic lol) when i look at them. like i look at us smiling and being silly together on these photos and the voice in my head is like "he doesn't know yet...". and for some reason it's specifically "he doesn't know" and not "we don't know". although back then i didn't think we were gonna break up either, so i didn't know either. but maybe my subconscious knew..? because i felt so guilty while looking at these photos. as if im only pretending to smile in them and im tricking him into believing that everything is fine. it feels like there's a countdown on these photos. like "only 2 months left...", specifically "he doesn't know that there's only 2 months left... tick-tock-tick-tock...". maybe i did know on some level?
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goblin-enjoyer · 4 months ago
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wee bit of a secret vent posty type deal to be shoved into the middle of the night.
title is accurate. move on if you don't wanna ready some random biz about me complaining about gross stuff.
so recently ive been researching estrogen and its effects. real basic stuff, estimated times for things, general list of stuff, warnings etc etc. and it sounds pretty great. slower and lesser growth of facial and body hair would improve my opinion of my body so much. from "ew I hate having to look and feel this" to maybe an "I feel clean again, I'm fine with not always wearing long socks when going out or wearing a long bathrobe when wearing pajama shorts". soft skin is always nice as my most comfortable positions usually are the ones where my body is wrapped around myself. it also would go well with the prior mentioned thing. from what ive read, less erections and less sperm and ejaculation. Which would be SO good for me. i hate being asleep, having a nice nonsensical dream, then BOOM everything pauses and starts to fade as i quickly have to do a bloody quick time event and concentrate and wake up fast enough before my waste of biomass tube detonates unwanted waste material. like the amount of times i have had to take a 6 am walk of shame to the bathroom to clean up and put on a fresh pair of pj pants is way higher than it ever should be. I know its a gross subject (mostly to my aro/ace flesh hating ass) but a little relief of "oh the balls produce less of this so at least there's a chance that it might be longer periods of time between this event" would do wonders for my mental. but here's where the venting starts coming in hot. How do people know their trans? like I'm not trying to be rude or anything but how do people come to that conclusion? Because I just cant fully relate to what I've seen and it just feels kinda icky that my brain cant just pick and stay on what it wants me to be. Do I want to be a woman specifically? eh no not fully. while I hate the flappy weak spot that is a penis, I really like having the option to either stand or sit while peeing. and its not like I'm using it for anything else, its a small tube that I use for waste removal, the reproductive functions are vestigial. I'm an aromantic asexual and I very much know it, anyone who knows me for a decent chunk of time knows it. I have no use for cum or erections. the only time i get an erection is when I forget to go to the bathroom before going to bed and wake up with a full bladder. no horny shiz just bad resource management. I would LOVE if my cylinder produced less and was just in general smaller and less "functional". do i want to be a man specifically? ZOG NO. i dont want to be all bulky and hairy. i dont want have the expectations of that. i know that builds are all different and that but i dont want to look like my father, i dont want to look like my mother either. no hate to them i love my parents, its just i dont want to be this noticeable person? Ugh writing how i feel about things is hard, but this is a vent post and it doesn't have to be comprehendible. I wish i could just be lean, boney and hard to make out from a distance. yet i still want nice and soft skin. but i dont want to be all that feminine presenting, nor masculine presenting. i want to just be that guy, you know what i mean? guy used in the most gender neutral way possible. maybe androgynous is the word. I would be totally fine using pretty much any pronoun. heck i think it would feel pretty good and nice and stuff to be called a girl, go by she her, while also just being a guy with he him. if i could go by any pronouns i would. it would feel just splendid, great even. to just not have to deal with the game and just go with the flow of things. I just wish my body/brain could decide on what it wants. because the big thing with estrogen is that it gives you breasts. Do I want breasts? I.. just don't know. all brain signs in my mind think it would feel good having boobs, breasts, tits, honker bo donkers, whatever you call them. but also my brain also screams at me that having them would be a complete burden to my life. [REACHED POST LIMIT CONTINUEING IN REBLOG]
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mekatrio · 1 year ago
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baby mekatrio arc in the manga is just so weird lol like look at this kido and seto already have this much control over their powers compared to the novels where it takes them years living with the tateyamas to get to that point.. and if anything kano may be the one who initially struggles w his powers the most out of the three bc he says this: (but also let me put this under a read more cuz this became really long lol)
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which is something that ive been ruminating over for the past 2 days but i wont get too into that here cuz im writing up another post all about this one line and its implications, but the essential takeaway from it is that it implies that kano doesnt have that much control over his powers compared to seto and kido, which is so interesting cuz its the absolute opposite in the novels; where kano is the first to master his powers while kido and seto take much longer to control theirs. and also another deviation from the novels is that kano and ayano dont meet one another before kano's death:
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which is kinda like omg is this deliberately suppose to relate to why kano in mr2 isnt that good with his powers...... bc he was only able to master his powers bc he changed into ayano after accidentally changing into his mother (bc it allowed him to come to the conclusion that he needs to have a 'vivid image' (what they sound like, look like, smell like, etc) of someone to be able to change into them), but bc he hadnt met ayano in mr2, he wouldnt have had anyone else he couldve changed into after learning of his abilities, and so he wouldnt be able to understand the full scope of his powers if he could only turn into his mother.. like the novel itself makes a note about how before arriving at the facility, the only people he could change into were his mother and 'girl from the park' (ayano), bc he was such a social recluse:
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⬆️hes saying this while hes transformed into ayano btw, and saying how besides ayano and his mom, theres no one else he can change into
and its really like IS THIS SUPPOSED TO MEAN ANYTHING?!?!?! is kano not being super confident with his powers related to him not meeting ayano earlier?! not to mention how ayano in the novel is kinda like an anomaly to kano, in how he's able to easily transform into her despite only having briefly met her.....
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fan translation by xpochama bc guess what the official translation has!! an ERROR!!!!
like is this some fucking timeloop foreshadowing shit where bc ayano turns into yakitsu or bc shes always meeting kano in every timeline or whatever, kano is just able to easily turn into her IDK. though of course it could also just mean that kano's powers doesnt actually work the way he thinks it does (which is the big post im still writing up) and he doesnt actually need a 'vivid image' of someone to be able to transform into them, or maybe ayano was just that memorable to him..
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but at the same time in the manga even though kano says that his powers 'tends to do whatever it wants', he was still able to come to the conclusion of needing a 'vivid image' of someone and its like if he hadnt met ayano, then the only other person hes been transforming into that he couldve come to this conclusion from would just be his mom, which would also explain why kano was reluctant to display his powers to seto and kido in the manga.... bc the only person he couldve changed into is his mom, someone very dear to him.. but then again like how could he know that he needs a "vivid image" of something to transform into them, as opposed to just thinking about them? basically how could kano know his powers worked like that if he only (presumably) had one person he could change into?
but then again im just shooting the shit and i dont actually know if seto and kido mastering their powers this early is supposed to be deliberate like this, bc regardless of all these assumptions im writing out like all of these kano ayano reasons i stated, turning these traumatized children into exposition dumping machines definitely does speak to a manner of writing where characterization is being sacrificed in place of moving the plot along as quickly as possible 😅 but also bc like it theoretically was possible for the mekatrio's backstory from the novels to be adapted 1-to-1, with how the first 18 chapters of the manga and the shinigami record arc are like near 1-to-1 adaptations of their respective novel plotlines, and yet this baby mekatrio arc still deviated so much, so it makes me wonder whether the reasoning for this was 1.) narratively deliberate or 2.) so there would be less for jin to write or less for satou mahiro to draw.. i dunnoooooo
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shurisneakers · 4 years ago
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harmless (iv)
Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)
Warnings: cursing, guns, mention of war, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader
Word count: 1.5k
A/N: good evening i’ve never been to any of the places i mention in this series so dont come @ me
if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! i might actually end up using them 
here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333
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Previous Part || Series Masterlist
He spends the weekend doing nothing. It’s supposed to be relaxing. He finds it nauseatingly boring.
“No mini mission this week?” Steve asks him from across the couch. 
They’re supposed to be catching up on Star Wars but two prequels in and Bucky could feel himself lose his sanity. Anyone could present him with a random assortment of alphabets, call it a Star Wars species and he would have no reason not to believe them.
It’s not like he doesn’t like space. It’s just that he’s had enough of it and everything and everyone who came from it for the foreseeable future.
“No. Someone else is taking care of it.”
“Didn’t you volunteer for this?”
“I pulled myself out of the case.”
“I thought you were having fun.” 
Bucky’s head slowly turns to look at him. “Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know,” Steve shrugged. “Looked like you were.”
Well, he wasn’t. He likes it here at home, glued to the TV. Popcorn beside him, sweatpants on. Refreshing, calming, slow, mundane, and Jesus Christ, so fucking boring-
His spiralling is interrupted by the dinging of the elevator to the common floor. No one was allowed up there unless it was extremely urgent. Guests were barely allowed into the Tower as it was. 
It reveals the receptionist from downstairs, Marie. She’s always a little reserved, a little shy. But Bucky had seen her chew and spit out trespassers or anyone who dared to get on her nerve. He adores her.
“Hey, Marie,” Steve says while Bucky sends her a friendly wave in greeting. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s a hostage situation downtown,” she informs them. 
“Okay...” Steve drawls, waiting for a reason why this was an Avengers level threat.
“They’ve asked for Mr. Barnes by name.” She makes a mention towards him.
Bucky sits up straight. Bits of popcorn fall off his chest. 
“What?”
“They said, and I quote-” she looks down at her notepad. “‘Tell that grumpy motherfucker that I’m waiting for him and that he’s not getting out of this so easily because we have come too far.’ End quote. They’ve also told me to include a kissing emoji. And a skull.”
Steve and he look at each other.
“Well?” Steve prods. 
Bucky sighs and gets up to go get ready.
The entrance of Chuck E. Cheese is more crowded than he’d ever seen. He wasn’t even sure he’d seen people in the store before. If there were, they probably only came up till his waist. 
There are a few journalists, a few policemen standing together outside. Whispers of confusion and curiosity reigned free. 
Bucky gently pushes his way to the front. He gets a nod from a police officer who opens the door for him after a quick briefing. 
The place is darker than it usually would be. A trademark, it seemed. The blinds are drawn shut and most of the light is coming through whatever sneaks in through the crack. 
“Hey, Barnes.” Your voice is muffled by a mask that looks suspiciously like it was made out of classroom craft supplies.
There’s a person in a loose chokehold in your hand with a gun pressed against his head. Once again it looks straight out of a cartoon, purple with round disks lining its barrel. 
“What’s all this now?” He gestures around monotonously. 
“A hostage situation. Didn’t you get the memo?”
“Got that part down, genius,” he bites back. “But why?”
“Fucker kept harassing me when I was walkin’ down the street.” 
The guy’s helpless gaze met Bucky. 
“Catcalling me, stalking me.” You tighten the grip you have on him. “Call me darlin’ one more time, you son of a bitch. I dare you.”
He wasn’t impressed with his pleading eyes. He kinda felt like he deserved it. 
“Why’d you do it here?” The bright colours were starting to give him a heading. “And where are the staff?”
“It’s symbolic, Bucky,” you emphasise, “He deserves to be among other rat bastards.”
Of course.
“The staff?” he asks again. 
“Gave them thirty bucks and told them to leave. I’m not a monster.”
“Right.” He doesn’t bother refuting you. “Why’d you call me here?”
“Dunno.” You shrug. “Thought it’d be fun. You having fun yet?”
You shake the guy you’re holding. He gives a small whimper. 
Bucky doesn’t want to stop you. He had chugged enough Respect Juice in his lifetime to know that this guy probably deserved a threat or two.
Hell, he’d even help but you were more than capable of handling this on your own.
“Listen,” he sighed. “As much as I’m sure he deserves it, this is technically illegal and I’m required to stop you.”
“Sorry sarge, I thought you weren’t interested in playing this stupid game with me,” you mock, voice dropping to imitate him.
“I’m not.” It wasn’t entirely true. One Saturday with Jar Jar Binks had convinced him otherwise.
“Okay, so before you leave, do me a favour and call Hawkeye. I hear he looks mighty fine when he’s annoyed.”
His face involuntarily scrunched up. You were going to replace him with Clint? Clint?
He probably took it more as an insult than he should have.
“I’m not doing that.” Bless his foul mouthed friend, but he was a little shit who was too sarcastic for his own good. At least twice a week he’d say something stupid to Bucky and then take out his hearing aids when he tried to argue back. 
“You’re leavin’ me with no options here,” you groaned, using your thumb to flip a switch. The gun looks like it powered up, lights along the side turning red.
If he let you have this, it’d be a bad look for the Avengers.
New York man dies in Chuck E. Cheese lone hostage situation, unable to be saved by same superhero who tried to fight Thanos with a machine gun.
“Tell ya what,” he says instead, “If you kill him, there won’t even be a slight chance that you’ll see me again.”
Your grip on the gun falters.
“If I let him go...”
“I might consider coming back next week.” He’s trying to spin it, make it look like he’s the one with the upper hand here. “But you gotta let him go.”
You search his face for any signs of dishonesty.
“Let him go or you’ll never see me again.” It sounds too much like Clint’s arguments with his dog who brought a live squirrel into the house. 
“Fine,” you relent, a glint in your eye. “but say goodbye to this fuckface.”
Before Bucky can open his mouth to shout in protest, you pull the trigger. The man clenches his eyes shut, face red.
He expects blood to be splatter across his face.
Nothing happens.
A barrage of bubbles floats into the room.
“I meant it literally,” you say, pushing him off you. “Say goodbye. He’s leaving.”
The man stumbles to the ground and Bucky doesn’t make any attempt to catch him. He scrambles to his knees, picking himself up and scurrying out the door to a hoard of reporters.
The door shuts behind him with the chime of a bell.
“You’re annoying,” Bucky states, giving a small sigh.
“I’m well aware of that.” You pull off the mask, wiping the sweat off your brow.
“Where is the agent assigned to your case?” 
“Dunno. Last I saw he was crying on the driveway of my lair. I just figured he’d pick himself up later so I left him there.”
Bucky’s nose twitches. 
“You weren’t actually going to kill him, were you.” He shrugs with his shoulder towards the door. It wasn’t a question, more a statement. He knew you wouldn’t. 
“I could have.”
“But you weren’t going to,” he repeats. 
“No,” you admit. “I wasn’t. But I’m glad to see you showed up.”
“You held someone hostage as leverage.”
“No, no. I held someone hostage and then asked to see you. They were completely unrelated.”
“You’re evil.”
“You jumped to conclusions,” you point out. “Would you like a trampoline next time? Maybe a pogo stick, you clown?”
He has a very real gun in his holster. His very real metal death arm aches to use it. 
“No one else agreed to come,” he deflects. 
“We both know that’s a lie. You were going to come back anyway.” You stuff the bubble gun back into the bag. “I’m deliciously irresistible.”
“I beg to differ.”
“Then beg.” You give him a smirk and he rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, you win this round, sarge.”
He doesn’t say anything. He watches you remove your heist gear, revealing normal civilian clothes underneath.
You walk casually to the kitchen, intending to leave through the back door.
“But I can’t say I lost either.” You send him a wink before swiftly pushing open the door and leaving him behind.
He only watches you leave.
It doesn’t hit him until a few seconds later that he let a criminal out of his hands when there were several policemen and journalists outside.
He entertains the idea of chasing you down and handing you over. 
It takes him only a few seconds to decide that if they wanted you, they’d have to try themselves.
Next part 
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yesimwriting · 3 years ago
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48 hours - chapter one
a/n im almost done with my matt x ex black widow! fic, and i really wanted to have it done before my friends come visit for NYE but im not sure it'll happen and i really wanted to give you guys something before i disappear for my tiny reunion bc yall have been so supportive with the BW fic so here's a very mini series idea that came to me...
i wanted to write this bc this idea has been so soft in my head for the past couple of days and ive been binging jane the virgin again so im all over the ‘even when im pissed off, i’m going to show up bc that’s what family does’ trope bc it fits so well with matt bc of all the secrets he keeps lmaoo
also the timeline for the actual show was not my priority in making this and you can kinda tell lol so pls don’t dwell on the details on who knows matt’s identity and other stuff
summary: After finding out that Matt Murdock, the lawyer you’ve been working closely with and befriended faster than you thought possible, is actually Daredevil, you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to trust him again. But that doesn’t mean you have the heart to leave him to face his demons on his own. So you agree to stay around for 48 hours, because that’s the only way to assure that he won’t do something stupid (which is extortion if you think about it, but what are you going to do) Too bad the main problem with being alone with him is that it makes ignoring those budding feelings you’d been fighting against that much harder to ignore.
trigger warnings: i cant write someone being mad without sounding kinda annoying bc i only know how to be petty lmao, emotional dependency (not the healthiest relationship take lowkey lol but it gets resolved by the end of the mini-series, i promise), matt lowkey being toxic 😳but that one's on me (it gets fixed and kinda justified lol it just doesn't look great without the context that you get at the end of the mini-series)
----
Foggy and Karen left. Either my (not so) subtle jabs and dirty looks were too much or they came to the conclusion that the only person that should and could deal with the real fall out of what happened a few hours ago was Matt. What made them think it was a good idea to let such an injured man face the blunt of my anger, I have no idea. I guess it has to do with the fact that apparently Matt can take a lot more than he’s been letting on.
He’s still slumped on the couch, body wilted in on itself, broken and bruised. A strange combination of guilt and fury twist in me. I want to help him; I want to pick up the stupid vase on his ottoman and throw it at his head. How could I have been so stupid?
Matt shifts, a soft groan falling from his lips. Great, he’s awake. That’s part of the reason everyone left so quickly...they knew that I’d have stormed out of Matt’s apartment if anyone else was there to make sure that he didn’t bleed out to death on his couch. A very unlikely thing, but my conscience wouldn’t let me walk away until I saw him awake.
And now I’ve seen him awake, so there’s no point in still being here. He’s silent, and his face is turned away from me, so I can’t see if his eyes are open, but I know that he’s awake. Which apparently means he knows I’m standing here.
“I know you’re awake,” I mumble, “and that that means you know I’m here.” I scoff, crossing my arms in front of me. “Apparently.”
He twists his body against the couch. His movements are rigid, pained. I want to move. I want to help him, but all of my energy is going into staying together and not succumbing to the strangled feeling in my throat.
It’s choking me. The feeling of shock, of worry, of anger, and of--of betrayal. All of those sentiments swirl in my chest, pulsing through my body at a rate that’s nauseating.
And now he’s just staring at me--wide, brown eyes swirling with emotions I don’t understand. Emotions I don’t want to understand, because if I let myself think about it, about how alone he must feel right now, I’ll push aside everything I’m feeling.
He’s not a villain for this. He doesn’t owe you anything. The rational part of me reflects on these thoughts as he blinks at me, waiting for some kind of response. He’s in pain, that much is clear, and just standing here goes against all of my instincts. I’ve never seen him this broken before, but I guess I apparently have. I’ve helped Daredevil--I, I cleaned deep wounds for him at least three times, and I’ve aided Matt Murdock more than I can count. But apparently all of that was unnecessary.
“Can you tell what I’m thinking too or do you still need me to say that out loud?”
The corners of his mouth pull down, he’s practically wincing. “I can’t--I’ve never been able to read minds. Being able to hear someone’s breathing patterns isn’t exactly telepathy.”
I grind my teeth together. “You’re not actually trying to be funny right now.” He can’t brush this aside, smooth over this revelation with his soft little half smiles and heart torn eyes. “Because I’m not even sure if you’re actually blind or if that’s all a cover so that people don’t know that you’re--”
“I’m blind.” He moves like he wants to sit up, but the motion is never completed. Matt cuts himself off with a wince. My nails dig into my palms to stop myself from rushing towards him. “I can’t see the way other people see, but I can--there are things I sense, things I hear, things I smell.” He swallows once. “And I--I don’t tell people, obviously. But I--I’ll tell you everything, if you’ll listen, I’ll--”
“Don’t waste your breath.” I mean it, I mean it with my entire chest and a small part of me hates myself for it. And I--I resent him for making me feel this way about him. “I won’t believe any of it anyways, and to be honest, I don’t see the point in talking when I don’t even know who I’m talking to.” My voice almost wavers, his eyes turn into even deeper vats of emotion. Don’t look at them. Don’t fall for it. “So Matt Murdock, good guy lawyer, or the illusive Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, or whoever the hell you are--goodbye.”
The last word hurts the most. It’s an ending without a conclusion. A sore wound destined to never heal. I swallow the grief that lumps in my throat as I turn towards the door to his apartment.
“L/n.” My name is tired but not soft. Keep walking. I hear him shift against his couch, and once again the urge to help him is drowning me. He doesn’t need your help, if he’s capable of jumping over dumpsters and fighting crime bosses, he’s capable of walking in his own damn apartment. “Y--y/n, don’t go.” My nails dig even further into the palm of my skin. Go. “It’s not--this isn’t about me, there are people that want to hurt you and I--I can’t protect you right now.”
How hurt must he be for him to openly admit that he can’t do anything right now? My stomach knots. Stop caring. “Have you ever stopped for a second to consider that maybe I don’t want your protection? I’ve lived most of my life without you, placing myself in risky situations for my career, and I’ve managed. So just--stay here, try not to get anything infected, and leave me alone.”
“The people that you’ve written those articles about are nothing compared to the kinds of people I’m dealing with. And they’re going to go after you.”
The seriousness of his tone is enough to make me hesitate. I’m furious at him, but it’s not like I can dismiss facts. “What--what makes you think they’d go after me?”
He hesitates, expression still mortally wounded in a way that makes me desperate to comfort him. “They’ve seen you with me.”
“You mean they’ve seen me with your vigilante alter ego.” He’s silent, I cross my arms over my chest. “Who I’ve--cleaned wounds for and-and talked to about personal things, and the entire time it was actually you. And you let me come into the office the next day and you--you knew what I was thinking, what I had gone through the night before, and you didn’t--” This is such a stupid thing to dwell on. “And--and Foggy knew, and Karen knew, and--you all knew and you let me be such an idiot!” I clamp my mouth shut after those words. There it is, for both of us to see--the deepest part of my emotional wound.
Matt stills for a moment, and then all of his strength goes into him shifting into a sitting position. His expression remains hard, pained. I push down the instinct to do something, anything. “L/n.” I should run out of here. I should have run out of here the moment I realized he was still alive and my conscience was made clear by the fact that I didn’t let him bleed out on his couch. “That’s what this is about.”
“No, this is about the fact that you’re an untrustworthy liar that made me feel like I was going crazy.” My stomach knots, but its too late to back down. “And also, maybe, a little bit about the fact that I finally felt like I found people. My people, good people that I could trust.”
“You did. You have.” I scoff. “We just wanted to protect you.” The pleading behind his eyes is unbearable. “I just wanted to protect you, and I made them keep it from you.”
“You know my entire life I’ve always felt like I’ve cared more about other people than they do about me. I’ve had so many people use me for stories or my--my family, and I thought I finally found something more than that.” My voice is shaking, and I’m torn between running out of his apartment and punching him in the stomach or something else stupid and petty. “And you took that from me--and that--that really sucks.”
“I know.” He has no defense. There is no defense.
My shoulders fall. “I have an article due tomorrow night, so...” Not the ending I want, but maybe that’s for the best. I’m not in the headspace to get closure...nothing permanent will bring me peace right now. “I um--I don’t think I’ll be in the office tomorrow.”
He shifts again, with a little more force. I think he’s trying to stand. Don’t help. “L/n.” My last name again, what he’s called me most since the day I first met him. It no longer makes my stomach flutter the way it once did. Or, I guess it still kind of does, but these butterflies are different...these hurt. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what? Have a totally normal reaction to realizing that every important person in my life has been lying to me?” I shake my head, the irony of it all making me want to laugh. “You know I thought the biggest lie I’d have to deal with this year is finding out about all the criminal things my dad had been doing and the origin of our family money. But no, the biggest lie has to do with my dad’s enemy who happens--”
“It wasn’t like that. You know it wasn’t like that.” A lie is a lie. It doesn’t matter. “Your father lied to manipulate you into thinking he changed, I kept a secret so that you’d be safe.”
Whatever. It doesn’t matter. “I won’t be in tomorrow,” I repeat, voice a little more settled. Resigned. I wish I could say I never want to see him again. I wish I could feel like that--like I have the strength to not care about what happens to him. “If you could um--if you could text me or get someone to text me every day or every other day?” My face burns. I wipe my face with the back of my palm. “I don’t think I’ll text back, but I’ll be able to sleep, and I don’t know what you owe me, but I think it’s at least that much.”
I reach for the front door, finally pulling it open. The air in the hall feels a lot colder than it did before. Some sound I can’t name forces me to stop. It’s--it’s broken. I turn around despite myself...he’s...I think he’s crying, but there’s something more to the sound than tears. Something desperate and breathy. Is he hyperventilating?
“Matt?” My voice is smaller than I wanted it to be and my hand has yet to let go of the door to his apartment.
I turn on my heels, nervously looking behind me. He’s slumped forward, his back hunched in a way that makes it impossible to see his face. Is he--no, walk away. You don’t care. I will myself to move, to remember all the lying and the confusion I felt and...screw it, who am I kidding? I give into my instincts, rushing to his side on the couch.
My hand is on his shoulder before I can stop myself. “H-hey, you’re okay.”
He shakes his head. I catch more of the bruises on the left side of his face than I had before. Pity pulses through me. “Don’t go.” Now his voice is small. Smaller than I’ve ever heard it be. “Don’t--I don’t know what--”
“Matt...” Okay, I don’t have to be vindictive about the whole walking out on him thing right now. There will be plenty of time to be angry with him later, once he’s more stable and--and better. “This isn’t fair.” He says nothing, still too lost in his crisis. “You really hurt me, and I’m allowed to be mad at you. I should be able to be mad without feeling guilty.” I run my hand up and down his arm as gently as possible. He exhales lightly at the extended contact. I bite my tongue to avoid losing anymore self control. “I’m going to go, and you’re going to be okay.”
My fingers slowly detach themselves from him. I pull away with a patience I don’t feel. I move to stand, but at the last second his hand latches onto my arm. “Don’t go, I--I know what they’re planning.”
“Planning?”
He winces when I pull away from his touch. “They’re going to go after you because of me.” The guilt in his voice is another knife in my stomach. “You know it’s true.” My breath catches in my chest. Matt must sense it, or hear it, or whatever he does, because he shifts again. When he grabs my forearm, I let him. “Be as mad as you want, but be mad here.”
I swallow once, forcing my back to straighten. A clean, healthy break. We need it. “Matt--”
He moves again, his fingers tactfully pressing into my skin. “I need you.” The words hang there, as heavy as my heart. “And that’s not--that’s not something that I can just say.”
Oh my god...Okay, I have to get out of here. Now or never. Just stand up, just--ugh. Who the hell am I kidding? “You know you’re really good at laying on the guilt when you want to.”
“One of the many benefits of being a devoted Catholic.”
If things were any better, I’d laugh. But they’re not. “I um-I really appreciate what you said, I know that that’s not easy for you.”
His eyes are doing that terribly compelling, kicked puppy thing. How can I want to be away from him as badly as I want to be near him? He moves his hand slowly, cautiously. I let him intertwine our fingers. Matt drops his head slightly, lifting our joined hands to his forehead. I sigh, ignoring the sentiments that bubble in my chest. Okay, two minutes, I can sit here for two minutes--that won’t kill anyone. Probably.
He moves my hand again. I let him until I feel the brush of his lips against the back of my palm. Even before I was this angry, I was wary of soft gestures like that. “What are--” No, don’t ask what he’s doing, just make sure he stops it. “What you’re doing isn’t healthy and it’s not going to work.” I mean it--or at least, I want to mean it with every fiber of my being. “I can’t trust you anymore and that hurts and I--I need time to deal with that. Alone. And there’s nothing you can do or say to change that, to change what you did.”
Matt’s silence is not safe. It doesn’t feel like acceptance because that would be too easy. He’s plotting, he has to be. “Are you sure?” What kind of question is that? “I’ll do anything.” I stay still, ignoring the nerves swelling in my chest. “I’ll do anything you want, l/n. Just--just don’t go.”
I press my lips together into a hard line. His stupid, soft eyes and messy hair...and the-the needy look behind his eyes. I’m only human. I have weaknesses. Okay--I’ve hit my limit, if I don’t get out now, I may never follow through. “What I want is to feel like I can trust you.” I pull my hand away, creating the distance between us that I need to be capable of rational thought. “And to feel like you’re not going to do something stupid while all those ribs are still broken and your lung is partially collapsed or...”
“Okay.” His voice is so assured, so certain, my panic stalls.
“What do you mean okay?”
He still looks like a rejected puppy. “Stay and--and I’ll take the night off. I’ll focus on meditating and I’ll answer all of your questions if you want to ask, and--”
Is he really using the fact that I don’t want him hunting down dangerous criminals while he’s half dead to his advantage? “Are you seriously trying to extort me right now?” I sigh, anger and dread spiking in me all over again. “And--and meditating? What does that have to do with anything?”
“I heal faster when I meditate.”
Uneasy laughter cuts through me. The sound must be more nervous than I thought because Matt stalls. “I’m sorry--you heal faster when you meditate? Why did you never call Tony Stark? You have enough going on to be a freaking Avenger or something.”
His expression makes it clear that he doesn’t know whether or not I’m actually snapping. “It’d get in the way of the day job.”
“Right, the ever important separate worlds thing. That’s why you kept me around, right?” I scratch the back of my arm, discomfort settling in my stomach. “Everyone in your circle knew the truth and you wanted to feel normal and you met me and could tell how much I wanted to belong somewhere and--”
“No,” he tries to sit up further, but his body is too tired, “it wasn’t like that at all. You know that.”
“Do I?” I sit up a little straighter. “What um--what was real and what was fake?” My eyes focus on the wall in front of him. “About us, I mean, because I--I really cared about—I still care about you because I’m still sitting on this couch even though I should have left the second I was sure you weren’t going to bleed out.”
“All of it.”
“Even when you were comforting me over my father? Or were you just trying to get the information you needed to stop him?”
He frowns. “Y/n--”
“Forget it.” I wipe my hands on my jeans. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“It does.”
I shake my head once even though he can’t see it. “So you think people are after me?”
Matt hesitates. “...I know they are.”
His tone is clear--he’s not going to give me any details on how he’s so sure that I’m in danger. “And if--if I stay you’re not going to do anything stupid until you’re better?”
“I think Hell’s Kitchen will survive a night without me.”
Oh--he’s insane. I blink twice, shocked at how one person can be so deluded. “A night? No--I saw how much blood you lost.” He opens his mouth to protest, but he’s gotten his way enough today. “And keep in mind how angry I am and what you’re asking of me. You need a full recovery.”
“I’ll be honest about how I’m feeling in the morning.”
He is in no position to negotiate. “The only person in any position to make arguments here is me, and I saw you throw up blood, and--and Foggy had to say a lot to keep me from dragging your ass to a hospital.” I should have just left him outside of an ER. “72 hours--that’s standard for—“
“You don’t know what I need--”
“No, but I know that our entire friendship was based on lies.”
Now it’s his turn to press his lips together. “It wasn’t.”
“Tell that to my father, who you got arrested with information that you got from me when I thought you were just my friend.”  I fold my hands on my lap. “You know I would have helped you if you had just told me the truth.”
Maybe my voice sounds just small enough to appeal to the part of him that’s decent enough to feel bad about all the lying. “48 hours. I’ll stay if you stay.”
I wipe my face with the palm of my hand, inhaling sharply in an attempt to clear my thoughts. Two days with him is the last thing I want right now. “Fine.” This doesn’t mean anything...he’s feeling panicky now, but that will pass, and then I’ll be able to walk away and deal with my own hurt. “But I’m not going to be nice to you, and I’m only doing it so that I don’t have to end up writing a news article about a dead body in a devil’s suit found in a dumpster.”
His expression is still tinged by that sad, innocent look. “The people here need me in that suit, I’m not going to apologize for that.”
“And I needed you.” Great, this is a level of vulnerability I didn’t want to reach here. “I needed you as a friend, as someone I trusted.” I grip the arm of his couch as I force myself to stand. “I’m going to the bathroom.”
These next 48 hours are going to be so much fun.
----
if youre interested in part 2 lmk :)) and if this is really bad bc i wrote this while very tired i am sorry!! im still getting used to writing matt and even though i love him very much im still working on his voice :)
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atlabeth · 3 years ago
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everything happens for a reason part 5 - zuko x fem!reader
I can go anywhere I want, I can go anywhere just not home
part 4 | masterlist | part 6
a/n: this was hard to get going but once i got to the end the words just flowed. ive come to the conclusion that writing dialogue with katara is my favorite thing to do
warning(s): nightmare at the beginning, survivor's guilt from y/n, some internalized homophobia :-( but aside from that its mostly fluff
wc: 3.6k
chapter title comes from my tears ricochet by taylor swift!
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She was trapped.
It was a prison of never ending hallways in some kind of infinite void, complete with the rank stench of death and an innate feeling of hopelessness.
Y/N knew this place. It had been the subject of her nightmares on countless occasions, because it was where she was supposed to be. She had no choice but to start down the pathway of cracked stone — she knew what awaited her, but it was the only way out. She had developed some sick sense of awareness in this nightmare and it didn’t do her any favors.
She began to walk hastily down the path, the itch of paranoia already plaguing the back of her mind. Countless times she had been here, and yet it never got better.
Before Y/N knew it, she had reached her unwanted destination. The first tangible thing in what felt like miles was a prison cell, and she pushed forward despite knowing what awaited her. It was the only way.
“It wasn’t the only way.”
She froze, inhaling sharply as the dreamscape seemed to pull her thoughts out of her mind, and she forced herself to take another step closer, the inhabitant of the cell now visible.
“You did this to me.”
It was her mother, but… not quite her. Her voice strained and stiff, a gaunt appearance with cruel eyes, hunched over in a prison cell. Any sign of the woman Y/N knew her as was gone, and it was her fault. She was the reason Kura was gone — a mother’s ultimate sacrifice because her daughter was too stuck in her head.
“How could you do this to me?” she asked. “How could you be so selfish?”
Y/N tried to respond, but she couldn’t. It was no use anyway — her words would’ve come out in broken, pleading rambles to someone who couldn’t hear a thing. She knew it was fake, she knew this was a nightmare, but it still hurt all the same.
She had imagined her mother saying those words to her so many times they had found their way into her nightmares despite knowing that Kura would never utter a single syllable true to her fears. She had all but killed her mother, and instead of remembering her for what she had done for Y/N, she appeared in her nightmares.
She was a horrible daughter.
She heard footsteps and whirled around, instinctively taking a step back and wincing as her back slammed into the bars. A tall, dark figure creeped towards her and her breath caught in her throat — as it came into the light, she recognized him as the Fire Lord.
He chuckled coldly as he neared ever closer, the path he walked turning to flames behind him. Her eyes darted around for an escape only to find that everything was on fire. It was suffocating, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think, and when she turned to look for her mother she was gone. Everything was gone, her dark void now a prison of flames.
She turned around once more and Ozai was right in front of her, the fire in his hands glowing red hot and a cruel smile on his lips.
“Did you really think you could get away that easily?”
-
She shot up in her bed, a scream on the edge of her lips but just barely managing to hold it back. Ragged breaths were ripped from her chest, her eyes shooting around wildly as she attempted to find anything at all to ground her. It took a few minutes, but with repeated mantras of it was just a dream and you are safe, she was able to calm down.
She pulled her knees to her chest and exhaled long and deep before pulling herself out of bed. It seemed that her day was going to be starting much earlier than planned.
Four years had passed since her arrival at the Northern Water Tribe, but the nightmares never ceased. It didn’t matter how many times she told herself she had done the right thing, that it was what her mother wanted, that if she stayed she would’ve died — she was constantly haunted by her past actions and memories of the Fire Nation.
She hasn’t taken off the necklace since her mother gave it to her, no matter what she does. It’s almost become a part of her now — a memory of Kura and her selflessness that knew no bounds, as well as a grim reminder of what it cost to get her here.
The Northern Water Tribe itself held countless memories of her mother — after all, it was where she had spent the first eighteen years of her life. Her name was well known throughout the tribe with nobles and elders alike, and it amazed Y/N to no end the impact that her mother left everywhere she went. She loved hearing stories about her mother and what she was like as a child, but it was always bittersweet.
She always carried an inherent sense of guilt with her because of who she lived with — her mother hadn’t been lying when she said that the necklace would get them to help her. Kura’s parents still lived in the tribe, and they had taken Y/N in after she revealed who she was. They loved her unconditionally and never made her feel like a burden, but Y/N would be lying to herself if she didn’t think they blamed her for the fate that befell her mother.
After all, she did.
She had never told anyone the full story of why she ran though. It was one thing to leave her mother behind for certain death because of the Fire Lord’s rage, it was another thing to admit that it was wholly her fault because she had fallen for a prince.
Zuko.
Not a day went by where she didn’t think of him. She still held the hope that she would see him again someday, but in lieu of travel she turned to letters.
Y/N had a shelf full of unmailed letters addressed to both Zuko and her mother — it was a way to get out her emotions whenever she was feeling particularly homesick or hopeless, and it did help at first, but after four years it had become something born out of habit rather than necessity.
She still wrote them though — Y/N had learned to hold onto any form of hope she could muster up, no matter how small, and in this moment she needed some.
She opened her shelf and rifled through piles upon piles of letters, some finished, some hardly started, and some crumpled from fits of rage, and her breath caught in her throat when her fingers brushed something different. Y/N pulled the material out and nearly started crying right then and there.
It was an unbelievably simple patch of fabric, but it meant the world to her — something that she had bought during her last night with Zuko, and one of the only pieces of material to have survived her journey to the Northern Water Tribe. She was forced to sell the rest of the fabric she had brought with her in order to make some easy money while on the run, but she had kept this as a memento. She could almost be brought back to the final sunset they shared if she looked at it for long enough.
Y/N bit down hard on her lip to stop the tears and shoved it back into the drawer before closing it and leaving her room in a haste. Sometimes she wasn’t strong enough to handle the memories.
She made her way to the living room and let out a sigh of relief when she noticed the silence. Y/N had never told her grandparents about the nightmares, and right now she just needed some time to herself. Never before was she so thankful for her grandmother’s gossiping nature and her grandfather’s work than she was in the mornings where she just wanted to be alone.
She sat down on the floor, not even bothering to get a cushion, and stared at her hands. Once smooth and untouched by the world, they were now rough and calloused with wrapped bandages resting just below her wrist. Permanent memories of what it took to get here. The ever present reminder that nothing came without a cost.
This morning seemed to be one full of yearning for the past. Y/N tried to shake her feelings off and got up once more, contemplating some steamed sea prunes before deeming it fruitless. Her appetite was lacking after her trip down memory lane.
She walked back to her room and got dressed hastily then ran out the door, but not before plucking a gift from her shelf. Today marked the birthday of a certain princess, and Y/N had to go fast if she was going to get it to her before class.
She was immediately hit by the frigid air of the North, pulling her anorak tighter around her frame as she began to run to the canals — one could always find Princess Yue there in the mornings — doing her best to avoid anyone else walking.
Y/N saw Yue just about to board one of the boats and sped up, waving one of her arms as a signal. “Yue, wait!”
She turned and her face immediately brightened up at the sight of Y/N, raising her open palm so the boatman would hold up. “Y/N! Would you like to join me?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Really?”
Yue’s nod prompted a shrug as she dropped down carefully into the gondola, taking extra care not to drop her gift, and took a seat next to her friend.
“This is a nice surprise,” Yue smiled as the boatman began to waterbend, effectively moving their gondola through the canal. “But if I might ask, what brought you here so early?”
Y/N laughed, thinking her reason for coming here obvious. “It’s your birthday, princess! What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t come to wish you well in person?”
Her smile grew even brighter, the corners of her eyes creasing up in the way that made some kind of warmth blossom in Y/N’s chest. “Thank you! That’s so sweet — I’m especially honored that you woke up early just for me.”
“Of course.” Y/N brandished the gift she had been doing her best to hide, unable to do the same for her own smile. “And here’s your gift! I sewed it all myself.”
Yue gasped as she took the creation, giving it a slight squeeze and a thorough investigation before absolutely beaming. “You made me an otter penguin— oh, you know how much I love these!”
She wrapped Y/N in a tight hug before pulling away, but it was just long enough for the heat to rush to her cheeks. “Thank you so much, really. You don’t know how much this means to me.”
Y/N beamed at the praise and nodded, shifting a little in her seat. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’m glad you like it so much.”
The two girls grinned at each other then turned their gaze to the horizon, content to spend the rest of the ride together in comfortable silence.
Her friendship with the princess of the Northern Water Tribe was something that Y/N cherished with all her heart. She could confidently say that Princess Yue was her best friend, and she hoped it was a notion that Yue shared. As beautiful as she was kind, the princess always had a way of making her feel better on the hardest days — Yue was the only one who knew the whole truth of what happened in the Fire Nation, and she offered nothing but sympathy.
Y/N honestly didn’t know what she would do without Yue. She had been her rock during the whole process of getting situated in the tribe, always lending a helping hand when she stumbled in class or was completely oblivious to something in their culture, and she never made her feel stupid, or unwanted, or less-than for what she had come from.
The only thing that confused her about Yue was the feeling she got whenever Y/N was around her. The rushes of heat to her cheeks, the warmth blossoming in her chest, and the unusual happiness she felt anytime Yue smiled at her. The most peculiar of it all was the strange tug of jealousy any time a noble boy tried to flirt with the princess, and nothing but disinterest whenever they tried an angle on her instead.
She didn’t know what any of it meant, but she had the sneaking suspicion that it was wrong. So Y/N did the only thing she could and suppressed it.
Soon enough, though much to their chagrin, Y/N had to leave. After some exchanged hugs and one last wish of happy birthday, Y/N took off for her morning healing class. But as she hurried down the icy paths, she caught sight of the most peculiar thing.
A giant flying bison was being led through the canals with a team of waterbenders, three kids that couldn’t be any older than her on its back. One had an arrow on his head and sported orange and yellow robes, while the other two looked to be of Water Tribe descent.
Her interest was irrefutably piqued, but she didn’t have any more time to waste with gawking. So she began to run once again, apologies spilling from her lips as she maneuvered through the groups of people all just as awestruck by the strange arrival as she was. Y/N made a mental note to ask Yue about it later, but for now she was running very late to her healing class.
-
Sure enough, a few hours later, Y/N was able to get the answers she had been craving. She met up with Yue outside of the palace, and during a short walk, she learned that the boy was the Avatar. He had come to the Northern Water Tribe to master waterbending, and the two kids with him were his companions from the Southern Tribe — much to her excitement, the girl was a waterbender.
Needless to say, Y/N was even more enthusiastic than before, and Yue made her day by confirming that they would be coming to her birthday celebration that night as honored guests. She had already talked to her father about allowing Y/N to sit with her and he had said yes, which meant that she would get to meet him and his friends in person — it just served as a reminder that Y/N had no idea what she would do without Yue.
After what felt like hours of passing the time with lost games of Pai Sho against her grandfather and failed attempts at finishing her homework, it was finally time for the banquet. Once she arrived at the front of the palace she bid goodbye to her grandparents and went to find the seat that Yue had secured for her.
She settled down in the empty spot next to what she assumed was Yue’s — it was her birthday after all, so a dramatic entrance wasn’t out of the question — and nervously glanced at the three visitors, trying to figure out how to introduce herself.
Thankfully, she was saved when the girl met her eyes and waved, offering a friendly smile. “Hi! I’m Katara; this is my brother Sokka, and that’s Aang.” She gestured in their direction with her head when she said their names and they both smiled and gave her polite nods.
She returned the sentiment gratefully. “I’m Y/N— I’m one of Princess Yue’s friends. Welcome to the Northern Water Tribe!”
“Thanks!” Aang said. “We’re here to find a master so Katara and I can master waterbending.”
“Well, you’re in luck. Master Pakku is one of the best there is, and even though he’s a total jerk, he’ll be able to teach you everything you need to know. And Katara, we have some amazing healing teachers— I can bring you along to my class tomorrow if you’re interested!”
Katara’s eyes lit up. “You’re a waterbender too?” When Y/N nodded, her smile grew even bigger, though slightly wistful.
“I’d really appreciate that,” she admitted, though her brows knit together. “But I’d like to learn from Master Pakku as well.”
Y/N frowned, about to correct her, when the distinct sound of drums began to echo throughout the hall. Her displeasure immediately disappeared as she grinned at them all excitedly, gesturing with her head towards the action.
Chief Arnook stood up from his spot and their table, his low voice booming. “Tonight, we celebrate the arrival of our brother and sister from the Southern Tribe. And they have brought with them someone very special, someone whom many of us believed disappeared from the world until now… the Avatar!”
Y/N’s own applause joined a symphony of others clapping and cheering as Aang waved bashfully, and once it died down, Arnook continued. “We also celebrate my daughter’s sixteenth birthday. Princess Yue is now of marrying age!”
She grinned as Yue walked out alongside her attendants — she would never get used to her beauty. Y/N noticed the way that Sokka’s eyes widened as he stared at her, and her stomach twisted at the act for some unknown reason.
“Thank you, Father,” she said. “May the great Ocean and Moon Spirits watch over us during these troubled times!”
Arnook smiled at his daughter and directed his attention back to his people. “Now, Master Pakku and his students will perform!”
She could tell that Katara and Aang were enraptured by the bending, while Sokka’s attention was already on Yue as she walked over to sit between Sokka and Y/N.
“I’m so glad you could make it!” Yue exclaimed, greeting her friend with a short embrace.
Y/N gave her a sideways smile. “If you think that I would miss your birthday and a banquet, then I’m afraid you’re out of practice on Y/N trivia.”
The princess laughed and nodded amiably then turned her attention to Sokka, ever the diplomat.
“Hi there,” he grinned. “Sokka, Southern Water Tribe.”
Yue returned the sentiment and gave him a slight bow. “Very nice to meet you.”
As their conversation went on, Y/N found herself tuning out a bit. For whatever reason, she had to actively stop herself from rolling her eyes at Sokka’s flirting, that same feeling in her stomach coming back. She made a mental note to see a healer about her issues.
“Hey, Y/N!” She snapped out of her self-imposed trance at the sound of Katara calling her name as she gestured for her to come over. It looked like Aang had gotten up to converse with Master Pakku and Chief Arnook, so she took the invitation and switched seats.
“I can’t tell you how nice it is to finally be here,” Katara said once Y/N had settled next to her. “Back home, I’m the only waterbender. Here… it’s like paradise. It almost feels too good to be true. I mean, even seeing you is crazy — I’ve never met a waterbender my age.”
Y/N smiled, though not without a hint of sadness. “I’m sorry that it’s taken so long for you to be able to experience this. How are you the only bender left down there?”
Katara was silent for a moment, a flurry of emotions warring on her face, before she answered. “The Southern Tribe hasn’t fared half as well as the Northern Tribe during the war. We don’t have one big, huge capital like this, we’re all split up into small villages. The Fire Nation has just been relentless with their raids, and without support from the North and a lack of communication between our sister tribes in the South, they were able to wipe us all out. Except for me.”
“Spirits, Katara…” Y/N set an amiable hand on her shoulder and squeezed, hoping that her softened expression could say what her words couldn’t. “My village was invaded when I was young, too. I’m so sorry that you had to go through that.”
She nodded pensively but managed to meet her eyes with an appreciative smile. “Thank you. I’m sorry about your village as well.” Her gaze drifted off, once again taking in the view around them, and when Katara met her eyes again she seemed better. “But we’re here now, and I’m planning to take advantage of everything I can, starting with all this food. Which one of these is your favorite?”
Y/N grinned as Katara pointed at the platter of various dishes in front of them. “Oh, you’ve got to try this. See that giant crab up there? That’s what this is, and you have not lived until you have tried Northern crab.”
Conversation flowed just as easily through the rest of the night between the two girls, occasionally switching to include Sokka and Yue and eventually Aang once he returned. Between the swells of pride whenever they laughed at her jokes, getting to learn about all three of them, and the almost palpable euphoria in the air, Y/N was sure of one thing:
This was the happiest she had felt in a long time. She could only hope it would last.
-
perm tag list: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77
ehfar: @chandies-sideblog @persica27 @anzanity @randomthingssss @escapingthoughtsandsecrets @shanksfav @shephard17895
atla: @marianne1806
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penguintransporter · 3 years ago
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Every You, Every Me (Leon Goretzka) Part X
a/n: hey there 😊 as promised, here it is, and I hope you will like it. consider this a prelude to the finale, because I’ve already started writing the next update, which I belive it will be second to last, but I am not sure. I am so attached to Sofie that it is really difficult for me to say goodbye. as usual, I would appreciate it if you tell me your honest opinion, share the story or just heart (that’s fine too, I still love you). happy reading x Mia
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PART I | PART II | PART III | PART IV | PART V | PART VI | PART VII | PART VIII | PART IX
“I believe there was a mention of CMR substances on the page forty-six,” Sofie started, glancing away from her notes, and at her colleague on the other side of the Zoom meeting who seemed to be everything but thrilled by her presence, and the fact that he was paired to do this with her. He was older than she was, his hair already streaked with greys, and compared to Sofie’s choice of wearing leggings and an worn-out t-shirt, he was dressed as if he was doing his dissertation, and not exchanging notes for their upcoming exam. 
“Yes, that’s right…,” the man commented flatly, and Sofie looked up yet again, only to find him staring blatantly at her haircut with a visible disdain written all over his face.
Ruffling through the papers in front of her, Sofie opened her mouth to speak again, but the sound of the doorbell above her doors made her stop — her eyes moving briefly towards her narrow hallway before meeting her apathetic colleague’s eyes once again.  
“I swear, I wasn’t expecting anyone. Do you think we can continue this some other time?” she asked hurriedly, already starting to get to her feet, from where she was kneeling on the floor in front of her coffee table as yet another shrill of the bell reverberated throughout her small apartment.
The disinterested man nodded, almost too quickly, and before Sofie was even able to say something else, he had muttered his halfhearted ‘bye’ and left the meeting as if he was chased by some sort of mob. Sofie stood there for a second, staring at the dark screen in bewilderment before narrowing her eyebrows at his rudeness, trying to ignore the fact that whoever was at the door was getting a bit too impatient. 
Calm your tits.
Kicking away her trainers that sat in the middle of the narrow hallway, Sofie brushed down her t-shirt from any wrinkles and breadcrumbs leftovers from the toast she had earlier with her lunch — her brain working like a clock as she tried to remember if Elle mentioned something about coming back early from her trip to Bochum where she was visiting her parents for the past couple of days. 
No, she didn’t, and anyway, Elle has keys and rarely rings the doorbell. 
Glancing at her feet, Sofie rolled her shoulders a little, unlocking the doors quickly — her breath catching itself inside her throat upon seeing the one person she wasn’t expecting to see. 
Leon stood in front of her — his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket, hunching lightly due to his height, and when he peered down at her, Sofie felt her stomach twist in excitement. Mumbling a small greeting, Leon smiled at her, and Sofie, unable to say anything, only smiled back, albeit somewhat confused with his presence at her doors.
Despite giving everything she could to try and forget and move on from Leon, upon her return from Italy, and after not being able to sleep for several nights, Sofie came to the conclusion that she was nowhere near to erasing the feelings she harboured towards one of her closest friends. She felt defeated, and she felt ashamed for how weak he was making her, but she just couldn’t pretend anymore — her heart had always been stronger than her head, and even though she knew it would ruin her, Sofie decided to wave a white flag at herself, and accept the defeat. 
Giving up on giving up.
“May I come in?” Leon asked, breaking Sofie’s train of thoughts — his eyes gazing over her shoulder, and she only managed to nod, muttering a quiet string of apologies for her rudeness before stepping aside. 
Brushing past her, Leon carelessly took of his shoes — the faint scent of his aftershave, reaching Sofie’s nose, and foolish as she was, she let herself inhale it briefly before turning around on her heel as she closed the doors, watching him walk inside the sitting room, just the way he did, many times before. 
Many times that eventually turned into a rarity these days.
“Is something wrong?” Sofie asked as she entered the room, nervously scratching at her forearm — nails grazing at the barely tanned skin as she looked at where he was sitting, close to the edge of the sofa — eyes roaming over the mess around her makeshift study area. 
“Why would something be wrong?” he asked, meeting her eyes, “I just felt like stopping by. It’s been a while.”
“Today?” Sofie asked, almost instantly regretting her words, aware that she was sounding ruder than she wanted to. 
Leon ran a hand over his mouth, looking away from her. “I can go, if you want me to. I was just—I honestly don't know…,” he trailed off, clearing his throat lightly. “You’re probably studying or something?” he added quickly, already getting up, but Sofie just shook her head a little as she reached out towards his arm to stop him, but then changed her mind before she could do so. 
“Wait, you know I didn’t mean it like that,” she mumbled as she crossed the small distance to her laptop, closing the screen of the device. “It’s just—I am surprised to see you here, that’s all,” Sofie added, running her hand over the nape of her neck. “Aren’t you supposed to be packing or spending time with your girlfriend before your flight to Lisbon?”
Yvonne. 
Her name is Yvonne, Sofie. 
She exists, and they are happy together.
Leon was watching her, giving an excuse to her heart to start beating faster in her chest, and in order to quiet it down, Sofie looked away and down at his hands where he had them clasped together — elbows resting against his knees.
“Sudden change of plans, I guess. Thought we could hang out,” he answered, and Sofie nodded carefully, trying to read his face-expression, and even though he didn’t seem to be sad, something was telling her that he wasn’t being completely honest with her. 
Nodding to herself, Sofie took a step before crouching down in front of him — the words tumbling down from between her lips without hesitation. 
“Are you sure you want to hang out, or are you here to take a nap?” Sofie asked — her heart swelling at his boyish smile that made his smile lines appear. 
“Where did you get that idea?” Leon asked with a grin, as he started shurgging off his jacket, discarding it carelessly over the backrest of her sofa. 
Sofie tried her best to keep her face straight, but it was in vain. “I’ll go and make us some coffee. New brew actually, and it’s been waiting to be served in your favourite Borussia Dortmund mug,” she grinned, causing him to laugh a little — his curls flapping over his forehead as Sofie got up to her feet. “Get yourself comfy, and I will be back in a minute.”
Underlining the last passage in her course material, Sofie slowly repeated the sentence to herself — her eyes moving rapidly between her notes and the text on the paper. Outside, the sun had already started to set, and Sofie, after witnessing Leon fall asleep on her Sofa, retreated quietly to her bedroom, hoping that she was going to be able to force herself to do some much needed studying, yet, doing so, proved to be an almost impossible task, with all the thoughts roaring inside her head — all of them caused by Leon’s unexpected visit. 
Only when a knock against the doorframe reached her ears, did she look up from the words that were just a bunch of blurry lines in front of her eyes — smiling timidly at the sight of a dishevelled Leon as he apprehensively stood outside her bedroom. Not bothering to say anything, Sofie only motioned for him to walk in before pulling the highlighter’s cap from between her lips and closing the neon-coloured marker. 
“I can’t remember when was the last time that I was inside your bedroom,” Leon commented as he hesitantly walked in, sticking his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he looked around as if he was trying to figure out if something had changed since the last time. 
“I’d say my birthday, last year,” Sofie answered, folding her legs in front of her in order to get more comfortable. 
Leon nodded, turning so that he was facing away from her as he focused on the photos that Sofie had stuck on the wall, both polaroids and printed ones from her camera roll — memories of outings, picnics, parties and holiday trips, forever etched on the smooth surface, including the entire row of the most recent ones, taken in Italy, almost a month ago. 
“You look beautiful in this one,” Leon commented absentmindedly, peering down at the photograph in which Sofie was leaning against the doorway of the villa they stayed at in Italy, covering half of her face as she grinned at whatever Serge was telling her — his body bent forward as if he was trying to show her how to deadlift. “I mean—the picture is very beautiful. I wasn’t there, right? Was Elle—was Elle the one who took it?” he quickly rambled — his voice slightly louder as he cleared his throat a little. 
Anxiously, Sofie nodded. “You were upstairs, with Yvonne,” she answered, looking down at her bare fingernails, trying to stop herself from getting too attached to his first statement. “Anyway, had a good nap?”
Leon only glanced at her briefly, nodding, before looking back at the photos — eyes slowly moving over some old ones, taken on some of their first get-togethers. “Do you even have to ask?” he chuckled, “been trying to have a decent nap at home, but for some reason, it’s never as good as when I nap here,” Leon added, turning fully to face her before leaning against her dresser. 
It took everything in Sofie to look away from where he had his arms crossed at his chest — his physique overwhelming her for a second. 
“Must be the sofa,” Sofie joked a little as she closed her book and gathered her papers, trying to keep herself occupied, but despite avoiding to look at him, Sofie could tell that Leon’s smirking at her. 
“I think it’s your presence, if you ask me,” he answered nonchalantly, and the second the words left his mouth, Sofie looked up — her eyes widening a little. 
“Leon…,” Sofie heaved out as he kept looking at her with an amused face expression. 
“Hmm?” he mused lightly. “Was I not supposed to say that, either?” Leon asked, and Sofie just shrugged, remembering their conversation in Italy — his words a constant guest inside her head. 
“You can say it,” Sofie nodded, smoothing down the wrinkles on her comforter with her fingers. “It’s just—I am not sure…—well, you know it yourself. Why make me say it?”
“I understand,” Leon muttered, his face turning solemn for a moment as he looked away and towards the window that was facing the facade of the building in front of Sofie’s. “I promise, making you uncomfortable is the last thing I want.”
Both of them let the silence fall upon them, and even though it wasn’t as tense or deafening as it used to be, the atmosphere didn’t feel comfortable either — the only sound being the laughter of the children, playing in the inner courtyard. Wanting to lift the mood of where their conversation was going, Sofie took a small breath, nervously running her hand across her head. 
“Well, since we are talking about me being uncomfortable,” Sofie started — the rational part of her brain screaming at her to stop herself from what she was about to do. “I’ve got a present for you.”
Hearing her words, Leon looked away from the window and back at her — his face painted with curiosity. “I already have a car, Sofie, but thank you,” he smirked, and Sofie couldn’t help but roll her eyes and scrunch her nose at him. 
“It’s actually a yearly delivery of your favourite apples,” she joked back as she got to her feet, teasing a chuckle out of Leon’s throat, which in return made her stomach erupt with butterflies. 
Walking to where he was standing, Sofie motioned for him to move away a little before opening the second drawer of her dresser — her ears suddenly flaring up upon realisation that Leon had the perfect view of some of the very expensive lacey lingerie she had foolishly bought years ago; something she wasn’t wearing, but wasn’t able to sell or give away. 
Trying to stay nonchalant about it, Sofie kept rummaging through the drawer, ignoring Leon’s raised eyebrows — his eyes obviously fixated on a particular item of clothing. 
“Light blue, huh?” he asked.
Blushing, Sofie ignored him as she closed the drawer before turning to face him, but moved slightly away, trying to maintain the distance. “Look, it’s really stupid, and Elle agrees, by the way,” she started, “I bought it for you on my last trip to Denmark, and I thought it’d give it to you before the season, but then, I suppose…I didn’t.” Sofie smiled a little, albeit sadly, remembering exactly why the present stayed confined in her drawer for almost a year. “Maybe you can take it to Lisbon with you, even though I know you’re not superstitious.”
Timidly, Sofie stopped talking as she took another step away before outstretching her hand to show him a keychain with a small, red cube attached to it. 
“A Lego?” Leon asked — his voice confused, but he put his hand out anyway, watching as Sofie dropped the small item in his palm, giving him a nervous, one-sided shrug. 
“Yeah,” she muttered, looking at the cube herself. “It’s red and it has eight studs, just like your jersey and the number on your back, and also, because I am a nerd—” Sofie grinned, glancing up at him, “—it’s Lego, as in Leon Goretzka… get it, Le-Go?” 
By the time she had finished her monologue, Sofie’s heart was beating frantically inside her chest, and in order to compose herself, she ran both of her hands across her head, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious about the entire ordeal. Across from her, Leon was quiet as he looked down at his palm, resembling a person that has never seen a Lego brick before and was fascinated with how it worked. 
“Sofie—,” he finally whispered — his voice soft. 
“—I know, it’s silly,” Sofie mumbled, “but I thought you’d appreciate it, and if you don’t want it, you’ve seen my keys,” she rambled on, unable to stop herself, “I am sure I can fit one more, or I can ask Elle—”
Sofie had expected many things to happen, and she was ready to hear whatever Leon wanted to say, but to have him place his hand against her cheek — his touch spreading warmth throughout her, wasn’t one of them. Feeling like she was slowly starting to slip away, Sofie tried to back away, but Leon’s barely whispered ‘wait…’ made her stop and rethink her actions. 
“What are you doing to me, Sofie…,” Leon trailed off, and Sofie, instead of answering, only shrugged lightly, fighting the urge to close her eyes and lean into his touch — just the way she did the last time. “I swear, Sofie, I’ve never thought—there is something about you—,” Leon’s voice cracked slightly at the end — the tone turning into a  much gruffer and deeper sound, sending a small shiver down Sofie’s spine.
“I don’t know…,” Sofie breathed out, focusing on the embroidered logo of his t-shirt for a moment before feeling Leon’s hand guiding her face up, forcing her to look at him. 
“Once again,” Leon started — his eyes looking between her lips and her eyes as he smiled at her, “I wasn’t asking, but giving statements, Sofie.”
Sofie wasn’t able to move as Leon’s lips touched hers with a certain kind of uncertainty and hesitation, which didn’t last long, because as soon as she closed her eyes and parted her own lips, Leon kissed her without holding back — their lips desperate for the touch as if that was the only way to survive the apocalypse. 
Kissing him, she didn’t feel like she was floating, and she didn’t hear angels singing or any other nonsense — her heartbeats pounding inside her ears, and unable to control how she was feeling, she stepped closer, causing Leon to drop the keyring on the floor before bringing his other hand to the other side of her face to pull her closer — tongue finding its way to meet with hers, just as hungry and needy. 
Every inch of Sofie’s body was awakening as Leon’s hands slid away from her face, down her sides, crawling underneath the fabric of her t-shirt — his lips leaving hers only to kiss a path down her neck as he gripped her waist tighter, pulling her closer. 
As if he was afraid she was going to run away. 
As if he knew what might happen. 
As if—
Sofie’s eyes flew open the second she felt Leon’s teeth graze the sensitive skin of her neck, without a doubt determined to leave his mark on her, and as if slapped in the face, Sofie pushed him away — her head shaking violently as she turned around, slightly dizzy and breathless.  
“No, no, no—,” she groaned, covering her face with her hands, feeling her legs shake.
What are you doing?
“Sofie, why are you—look at me, please?” Leon pleaded — his hand touching hers, but Sofie only pulled it away, unable to stop her thoughts. 
“You can’t just do that to me, Leon,” Sofie whispered, suddenly ashamed that she kissed him, knowing that he has someone, waiting for him, on the other side of the city, probably wondering what her boyfriend is up to. “It’s not okay—” she added as she felt the tears prick the surface of her eyes. “It’s not fair….”
Taking a breath to calm herself down, Sofie quickly turned around before walking out of her room, not bothering to tie her shoelaces as she slipped on her shoes, leaving her apartment and Leon behind.
-
hereby, I declare that I am ready to take beatings of any kind of sort. x
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roger-that-cap · 4 years ago
Text
tolerate it
part 2/2 of cardigan!
so, this is the follow up to my first ever one shot (guess not anymore LMAO) up here! i sincerely hope that you guys like this, because it was like pulling teeth for this one. every now and again i’d find a golden one and smack it in there and hope that one decent line made up for all the others.
natasha romanoff x fem!reader
this was the hardest thing ive ever had to write (simply because there was so much emotion in it and it was hard to reel myself back in just to cast out again) and i had to write a paper on nathaniel hawthorne.
warnings: pretty angsty for me, bittersweet, um- why do i write angst, DRAMATICS hahaha
word count: 4.5k!
would like to remind you that i do not own taylor swift songs! this one borrows a little from tolerate it, the best song on evermore imho (tied with coney island).
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You knew that opening the door was going to be a hard part, but what you didn’t prepare for was actually listening to her. You could have stared at her for eternity in silence, just harping on everything good and bad that ever happened between the two of you. You could imagine a thousand different scenarios where the two of you were happy and none of this had occurred, but that wasn’t the case. She didn’t come to you to stare and leave.
“Thank you,” Natasha said, her voice throaty as she took a cautious first step into your space. Your space. It sounded weird, and you knew that it felt weird to her. You two had shared everything for the longest, and now you had your own place to live in. “Thank you for letting me in.”
“You came to talk,” you said, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively, and she didn’t miss the obvious tell of your body language. “I won’t make you waste your time. Say your piece, and then...” you trailed off, both of you knowing full well where you were going with it. 
“Can I just start with the fact that I’m so sorry,” she blurted, and you have her an unamused look as you sat on your couch, and she sat on the edge of it. “And that I don’t know why that happened. I don’t expect for you to ever forgive me, and I don’t forgive myself. I won’t ever forgive myself for hurting you so badly, and having such a lapse in judgement. I’m sorry.”
“What was it that was different?” You asked, the question that had been haunting you for a while now finally escaping your lips. When she gave you a confused look, you stared back at her. “What was so different about whatever happened on the mission?”
You didn’t ask what you did wrong, because you didn’t do anything wrong. It took you weeks to know that, weeks to come to the conclusion, but you knew. It wasn’t anything that you lacked, it was something that Natasha did. Whether it was loyalty, restraint, a moral compass, or even something else, you didn’t think that it was you.
“There was nothing different.”
You were trying to hold it together, but you knew that you were seconds from falling apart right in front of the person who had destroyed you. “You don’t have to lie.”
She made a face. “There wasn’t. There was nothing about her that was better than you, I swear.”
But there was nothing different. There was nothing different in the way that you held her to the way that Abigail did, then. There must have been nothing different in the way that you kissed her in the morning. Nothing special about how you would dance with her on the third of the month simply because you liked the number three. There was nothing special about the way you held her hand and rubbed her back and sometimes sang her to sleep when she needed it. And there was certainly nothing different or special about the way that you let her put her head on your chest, just so that she could hear your heart beating.
Maybe what you did was different or special to you and not to her. And maybe it was time for you to finally realize it, whether it hurt or not.
Your emotions were threatening to come through, and you couldn’t have that happen. “I thought you came to talk. Talking requires truth.”
“I did,” she rushed, and then she sighed and wiped her palms on her thighs. You knew what that was. Of course you knew what she was. That was her being nervous. “I just wanted you to know that I love you, I love you so much, no matter what you choose. I never meant for any of it to happen, and I hate myself for making you feel that way.”
“You knew what happened with the others,” you said, and you knew that she knew that you were talking about the men who used to cheat on you without thinking twice. You saw her wince. “You knew how I felt about dishonesty. You knew how long it took me to be fully trusting of you, and you ruined it for two months of fun?”
“I know I did.”
“Do you know that, Natasha?” You asked, your voice starting to raise a bit. “I trusted you, and then I gave you everything I had. There wasn’t a piece of me that wasn’t for you, don’t you get that? I painted a portrait of us with the best colors I had and you opened the door on me doing the finishing touches and threw black paint over it.”
She was surprised that you were actually allowing yourself to be angry, and that made you even more upset. You were allowed to be pissed. “I’m sorry,” she breathed out, a thin layer of tears in her eyes.
“I did- I had everything lying out on the table for you emotionally. It was wrapped so pretty for you when I helped you through your own stuff, and it waited until you were ready. There wasn’t a thing you didn’t know, not a secret kept from you. And I still can’t believe that you returned me being in love with you, with that.”
“It didn’t mean anything to me. None of it meant anything to me at all, I swear.”
“It meant something to Abigail,” you said, and you saw her flinch. “It meant something to the girl that told you that she loved you. And if I’m not mistaken, you told her the same. So did it really not mean something, or are you an even larger liar than I thought?”
“It didn’t mean anything.” For a spy, she was quite easy to read. Or maybe you just spent so much time knowing her that it was impossible to not know her inside and out. You knew her every movement that she made when she lied, and you knew what she looked like when she was telling the truth. This, this wasn’t it.
And it destroyed you.
“Don’t you understand how that feels? It feels like being cut a thousand times by the fancy blade that you made yourself. It feels like being bitten by your own dog. It feels like being nearly drowned in the oceans that you’ve swam in for forever. We were so close! We were so close that I was sure that we were predestined or some of that cheesy shit, Natasha. I could have sworn that we were meant for each other, but now I know that we were, because the betrayal that you did cut me down into a million pieces. That was something that neither of the others were able to do. That’s something that only you could do, and I trusted you not to do it. I never thought you could do it. I thought that you loved me far too much to pull the shit that you did.
“Maybe I was foolish enough to make the knife right in front of you, but I trusted you to know it was there and not use it against me. And you still stabbed me with it.” Your voice cracked and you could feel warm tears falling into your hand, but you didn’t care. You had to keep going. “How could you see me give and give and give to you, for you, and then tolerate it and go see someone else?”
She was breathing heavily after your rant, like she had spoken the words instead. A singular tear came down her face, and you thanked whoever was sitting above and watching for the crack in her mask. You were begging to see her half as emotional as you, half as hurt by her own actions.
You knew that it was different when you saw her wipe her tear. She never wiped her tears around you. You were the only one who got to see them, but you supposed not even you were allowed to see it anymore.
“I can’t even begin-” her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. “I can’t even begin to tell you how much I regret what happened.”
“How do you regret-” you pursed your lips and shook your head, closing your eyes for a second as your heart clenched. “How do you regret falling in love with someone?”
“I don’t love her-”
“Do you love me?” You asked.
“More than I love anything else in the entire world.”
“You loved her more if you risked me losing me, Natasha.” You said, and her brows shot up at your conclusion. “You know what would happen if you did that to me and I found out. You knew you would lose me, and you did it anyway. So you two must have had something special. Congrats.”
“No, you’re-”
The temper that you tried to keep in check was bubbling over again, and you realized that there was no checking yourself. “Do you know how long I waited for you and never cheated? Never had sex with anyone else, never went on a date with anyone else? For just as long as you were supposed to! And I managed! So what’s wrong with you?”
“Y/N, I think we should calm down a little. Let’s talk it out for a second.”
“I’ve been talking it out. All by myself, actually, because you’re too afraid to do a damn thing and admit that you fucked up for two months straight.” You closed your eyes again as you felt the hurt come back up. “How do I know it was just that time? How do I know that?”
There was a silence that spoke volumes. “You don’t.”
“And what if we got back together, after all of this?” It was hypothetical, but seeing the hope perk up in her sparked something that you hadn’t felt towards her in forever. Or, you had, it was just smothered by the heat of your fury. “How would I know that you aren’t off pulling the same thing you did earlier?”
“You’d have to trust me.”
“Well, I can’t do that. I literally can’t,” you cried out, putting your head in your hands and shaking you head. It was quiet except for the sounds of your cries, and it was ominous. There was never a quiet moment between you and Natasha, but you were dying out, fizzling away. You already had your Big Bang, now you were creating black holes that would forever remain on opposite sides of the universe. And you both knew it.
“You- you humiliated me,” you shook your head from left to right again, face still hidden. “You had an affair with a younger girl, you did it in front of the people I shared a living space with. You did it shamelessly in front of the people I cooked meals for every day, the people who’s fucking uniforms I ironed! They were my friends too, Natasha, and you humiliated me. You made them keep your dirty secret, did you apologize to them?”
“I haven’t spoken to them much.”
“I had to figure out from Pepper in front of the wedding dress store,” you continued, your throat tightening. “I was there getting the dress that I was going to walk down the aisle in. Everything was perfect, and then you did something that shattered what I thought couldn’t be broken.” You had thought that you and Natasha were rock solid, the hardest stone. You two were diamonds that sparkled and prevailed together, until you learned that you were truly just glass.
She leaned forward, giving you a look that you knew meant honesty. But it was far too late for that, and it wasn’t going to do Natasha much good now. “I wish every second of the day that I didn’t do it, Y/N. Every second of every day.”
Your lips turned into a scowl. “Wishing doesn’t do anything for us. We’re not little kids and we’re not princesses.”
That word, wishing, must have been the one to do her in, because she was sobbing right into her own sleeve, an arm covering her eyes from your sight. Your tears were subsiding, and you watched her with thinly pressed lips. Watching her cry was never pleasant.
“I’m so, so sorry. I can’t- I can’t imagine how you must feel, but I’m so sorry. I don’t know why- I can only apologize to you and beg that you’ll welcome me back to you, where I’m supposed to be.” Your eye twitched as you listened, and told yourself to keep your strength up. “I fucked up. I fucked up so bad, baby, but I know now. I know who I’m meant to be with, and it wasn't her. It’s you, it always has been.”
You knew that. You had always known that. It was a fact, something that had always rang as true as the beating of your own heart. You knew that it was written in the stars for you by some gracious god who decided to reveal what could have been your present and future to you, but you guess the other half of the tale never saw it herself. She knew now, sure. But she learned a little too late for your taste.
“Please, you have to know. You have to know that I didn’t- that I would never do it again.” 
How could you tell someone that their apology wasn’t enough? How could you reject someone when they were at their lowest point? How were you going to find the strength in yourself to turn down the woman that you still very much loved? The one that you thought that you lost to another was right in front of you, begging for a second chance, but was it right for you to give it to her?
But how could she see you at your most vulnerable every day and know that you loved and cared for her with your whole heart and still do what she did? How was she okay with ruining you after all that you had been through? How did she not feel bad for two months about betraying the one person who she knew would be forever in her corner?
Whatever her method was to do things that hurt the people she supposedly loved, she found a way. And so would you.
“Have you said what you needed to?” You asked, your tone slow and deliberate as you fought for your tears not to ruin your words. Just as slowly, she nodded. “Then, please leave.”
A noise left her throat. “Please, wait. Wait.”
“There’s nothing left to say, Nat. We said it all.” You stood up, and she followed. “Fix your relationships at the tower, alright?”
“Don’t,” she muttered, tears streaming down her face. “Please don’t tell me that you don’t want to try and then act like you care about me.”
You both walked to the door, because you knew that I the end she would do what you asked of her. “We were friends first.” You insisted. “We were friends first, Natasha, so I care. So, because we were friends first, I’ll tell you to get better. Work on yourself. Fall in love with someone else. Maybe not with two people at the same time.”
Her face was utterly pitiful. Her eyes were watering in a way you had never seen them do before, and her hands were shaking. You had seen the most of Natasha that anyone had in the entire world, yet you had never seen her so torn apart, so open. She laid it all out for you like you had been doing for her for years, and now you were finally the one to ruin the pretty picture. “Please.” 
As soft as a gentle breeze came your next word. “No.” You yanked your apartment door open, and then you were both shivering. She looked up at you, her face full of an expression of the most shattered you had seen her yet, and the part of you that still ached prayed that it would be the last time you would ever see her at all.
Your body moved on its own. It asked for one more point of contact, just one more before you deprived yourself from the person you loved the most. Your lips pressed against the crown of her head as you told yourself it was for your own good. Your eyes shut as you put your hands on her shoulders, and tears were turning spots of her red hair dark. She was shaking underneath you, crying even harder than you were. You pulled away from her and opened the door wider.
“Wish you all the best, Nat.”
She walked away, off of your porch and into the night. You shut the door.
§§
You figured that you would miss her, but it wasn’t as bad as it was in the early part of leaving. By the time you moved on, it was far past the date of the wedding and even further past your anniversary. Sometimes it still hurt to think about how your life could have been had she chosen to stay faithful, but you learned that the scenarios hurt more than they helped and stopped.
You had a steady job, could keep up with the rent on your apartment, had enough for groceries and even had spare to get your nails done if you wanted to. You were doing it all, and you were doing it well after being attached at the hip to someone else for years and years.
There was a time where you would have thought that living without Natasha would be excruciating. The first night after you stormed out and cried yourself to sleep, you were sure that it would be painful, every night without her next to you would be like a stab in the gut. But after a while, it really wasn’t.
At first, it was. You missed her terribly, and, a part of you still did. You missed the good things that happened, but you realized that the good didn’t erase the bad, and that the bad didn’t erase the good. So, after a long time of thinking about her, your stance on Natasha Romanoff wasn’t hateful, or upset, or vengeful. You barely had one.
You thought about her and saw a book that you had finished reading a long time ago. Impactful at the time you read it, of course, and it could leave a longing imprint, but it was over. You could never relive that exact moment ever again that you read her, not a good one or a bad one. The hardest, most intense part of it was over, so far behind you that you could breathe again. 
And damn, did it feel good to breathe. 
§§§
Seeing her was awkward, and it was something that came straight out of your outdated imagination. You were by yourself buying apples at the market that you always went to because you adored fresh fruit, checking for bruises on them that were never there. You were carrying four in a bag with a content look on your face, just walking around and looking at other fruits and vegetables when you felt someone’s eyes on you. You looked up.
Sam Wilson was looking right at you, his jaw a little slack as he recognized you. You hadn’t seen him since you stormed out of the compound god knows how long ago. Within seconds, your life at the tower and memories with him flashed in your head. You two would cook together side by side often, and that's where you would do most of your bonding and talking with him. Your heart clenched for a moment, and then you raised the hand that wasn’t occupied and gave him a wave and a half smile, one that you hoped told him that you weren’t angry.
You looked back to the vegetables and then at the sign on the table. Damn, that’s kind of expensive. You shrugged your shoulders and put the greens on the weighing machine anyway, and pulled the money out of your purse for it. You smiled at the vendor and left with your new bag, wiggling your eyes at the strawberry table and starting your approach. 
“Hi,” an achingly familiar voice called out while you were steps away from the table of deliciously red strawberries. You could smell them from where you were at. You turned around still, even after easily identifying who the voice belonged to. “How are you?”
She was as beautiful as ever, the top of her head under a blue ball cap and her eyebrows perfectly done. Her eyes were hidden by shades, but you didn’t need to see them to know what she was thinking. Her arms were loose at her sides, but her fingers were moving strangely, and you noticed them immediately as her nervous tick. You took in a deep breath. 
“I’m good, how about you?” You asked Natasha back, and she gave you a pained smile.
“I’m alright.”
“Oh, sweet,” you said, and then gave her a parting smile before turning towards the strawberries.
“Wait,” she called out.
You stopped and turned your head, even though you wanted more than anything to forget that you ran into her. “Yes?”
There was a moment of silence between you two, and then she took a step forward. “Are you still upset?” She asked, voice lower in volume than usual. 
You almost scoffed at her. “I’m an adult, I can’t really be sad for long or I’ll forget to pay a bill or something.”
“Can we talk?” She started, and you held up a hand.
“Let’s not open up old wounds,” you said, already knowing exactly where she was going with all of her hesitance and fiddling with her thumbs.
“I need to apologize for what happened.”
You shrugged. “I forgive you. Actually, I forgave you weeks and weeks ago. It’s okay. We can move on from it.” We need to move on from it. 
You saw your old lover’s face light up in just the slightest, but just as fast as you saw it, it was gone. Her lack of wanting to express to you didn’t hurt anymore. “We?”
“We can move on,” you repeated, “just not together.” Her face dropped at what you said, and you shrugged your shoulders. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, I fucked up.”
Yes, you did. “It’s in the past now.”
There was a pause, and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. You wondered when your heart started to beat on its own again and not for the woman standing so close yet so far away. You wondered when you started to do anything for just yourself, and you wondered when you had stopped doing that in the first place. Her voice brought you out of your thoughts. “Is it?”
You almost had to ask her to remind you what the conversation was about. “Oh. It is,” you said gently, but your voice was still stern. “All good things must come to an end, and what we had was good. It was great, and that must have meant that we were destined to end fast.”
She shook her head slightly. “If you- if you forgive me, it doesn’t have to be over.”
“It does.” You looked at your phone and sighed. “I have to leave.”
“Okay,” She said softly after a moment, and finally took a step back. It was a small one, like her body was trying to override her brain. “Okay.”
“I’ll see you, Nat.” You saw her wince, and if you hadn’t made peace with everything, you would have, too.
She took another step back and cleared her throat, just as Sam started making his way over. She nodded at you, and you gave her a small smile, almost encouraging. Just walk away, this is the last time you’ll have to do it. “Later,” She said, her voice a little hoarse as she turned on her heel and walked right past Sam.
“Later” meant never. And you didn’t know if you were supposed to feel nothing or everything about it.
§§§
The last time you saw Natasha Romanoff was a year later, when you were holding hands with a pretty woman from an art show that you went to. She stole your heart with her work, and she turned out just as beautiful on the inside as she was with a brush, and on the outside. Her name was Julie, and she was great. She was honest. 
You really liked Julie. She wasn’t Natasha, though, and it was both refreshing and saddening, because you knew that what you felt with Natasha was a one time thing. You two had one chance to keep the bond that was seemingly inseparable and stronger than steel together, and everyone was rooting for you. And then, it just fell apart.
You knew that Natasha was your first actual love, and the only person who was ever going to be able to love you emotionally like you needed to be. The two of you were, in your mind, made for each other. If soulmates existed, Natasha would have been yours, and you would have been hers. You knew that even five years after not being with her, and while the hole in your heart wasn’t hollow, you had a feeling that a little something was always going to be cold, like a cavity that was never filled. Someone saying her name or asking about her was like chewing ice on it.
But people moved on. Just like you did. And you had moved on from the beautiful yet icy mountains of Natasha and into a soft and whimsical meadow, and that meadow was Julie. 
You were holding hands with Julie, arms swinging as you were leaving the donut shop and talking about silly things that made the both of you grin when you caught a familiar flash of red. Out of instinct, you looked over your shoulder, and what you saw made you freeze.
Natasha Romanoff was with a girl with brown skin and black hair that was glinting in the sunlight, and she wasn’t focused on the way that you and Natasha locked eyes in that moment, the moment that seemed to last years. You didn’t think you were still moving, and it certainly didn’t feel like you were taking a step, but you were. You saw her blue-green eyes blink at you, and like you were still stuck on the same wavelength after all that time, you both raised a hand and gave a timid wave, small smiles gracing the both of your faces.
You saw the girl tug lightly on Natasha’s arm, and your grin stretched. Natasha looked over at the girl, and an immediate smile, one similar but not quite the same as she used to give to you, was on her face. You turned your head forward, a light smile still on your own face as you watched it all happen in a split second.
You both kept walking.
*****
ahahaha wow, that hurt really bad actually - never doing angst again i’m a fluffy type of gal
so i’ve never done a taglist before! so i hope i’m doing it right otherwise this’ll make me look incredibly dumb-
@messuhp @username23345 @fishlikestuff @thelastavenger-3000 @grievingfortheliving @madamevirgo @dontmindmejustreading @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @sourpatchspinster @fayhar @sarcasticallywitty15 @normanijauregui
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twoticky · 3 years ago
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hm okay. so i said i was gonna write about this and idk if anyone else actually cares but im Thinking About It.
from what ive seen abt the general tumblr analysis of malvolio (which i certainly dont claim to be an expert on. im just here!), there's a lot of talk abt neurodivergence, particularly autism, as it relates to his character. which is rad obviously! but as someone currently playing malvolio myself, i feel the one of the most important, maybe THE most important factor for me in interpreting malvolio is class, and how he relates to it.
nobility and status is, more broadly, A Thing that comes up in twelfth night. although the primary part of viola's disguise is that she's dressing as a man, she's also a noblewoman dressing as a servant. in shakespeare's time, class lines were pretty strictly defined and relationships between nobility and servants were strongly disapproved of, so viola's position in the class ladder certainly isn't irrelevant to her romantic prospects. (hence why olivia asks about cesario's parentage in 1.5 -- she's not just making small talk, she wants to ensure that he's not impossibly below her). while actual servants having relationships with nobility was considered scandalous, the idea of love as service was common and appears throughout shakespeare's plays; viola calls orsino olivia's servant because of his love for her, for one example, and antonio's extremely homoerotic devotion to sebastian manifests itself through his dedication to service. and of course there's viola herself, who literally serves her love orsino, until her true identity is revealed and she becomes "orsino's mistress, and his fancy's queen," the roles of servant and commander switching through their love. and then we get to malvolio!
(from here on out i'm gonna talk a lot about my personal analysis of his character, which you can feel free to disagree with. every actor who plays him does it differently and i think that's one of the great things about his character!) malvolio is frequently considered a parallel to the various lovers in the play, most often compared to orsino as their semi-obsession and courtship of olivia is similar, but i think, because of a lot of the stuff about master/servant relationships i talked about above, he's also comparable to viola in some ways. what makes him different, though, is that his love for olivia is almost secondary to his love for what she can give him -- power and respect. malvolio, presumably, was born to a lower class family, and has attained the rank of steward because of his obedience and commitment to rules. and he believes that through this obedience he will get the status he rightly deserves, that jove and his stars will bestow luck upon him. although many things about the play's class system don't particularly translate to modern times, one thing became clear to me pretty quickly about malvolio: he's kind of a bootlicker. now, don't get me wrong, i love his character! but fundamentally, he is someone who believes he can escape the oppressive class structures of his time and place if he just works hard enough. and he works hard! he dedicates himself to olivia's service, and part of why he hates the fool, or sir toby's entourage, is that they aren't working. they have the luxury to sit around and joke while he's had to work every second of his life to get this far! so while he's, in some ways, sympathetic, it's pretty understandable why so many people hate him.
and then we get to the prank. now, i think it's really important to remember, while sir toby is pretty much a ne'er-do-well, he is nobility. he's olivia's uncle, and although he may not have money, he has status. and in sir toby's mind, the crime malvolio has committed is rising above his station -- he's disrespected toby with his chastisement and threats to kick him out, and he's "disrespected" olivia by desiring her, which of course because of his status is considered inherently predatory. (this is, additionally, why i find lesbian malvolio so interesting as a re-interpretation, adds a lil something to the sense of malvolio being predatory just because of who he is). so, of course, malvolio must have everything he's wanted for so long dangled in front of him, and then have it ripped away. only fair, right?
although twelfth night is a play that challenges convention in a lot of ways, we're still living in the 1600s (1500s? fuck, when was this play written?), and we have to have some approximation of returning to proper social order at the end of the play. orsino marries a noblewoman, olivia marries a nobleman, and malvolio stays where he is. what changes, towards the end of the play, is that malvolio has realized, depressing as it is, that he can't win. he tried to do everything olivia wanted, and this resulted in punishment. in his letter to her in 5.1, he says he has forgotten his station, that he speaks only out of injury, which he certainly would have never done before. and ironically, once malvolio has abandoned his striving his grandeur, the play finally gives him the dignity he's been denied. his lines in the final scene of the play are the only time he ever speaks in verse instead of prose -- speaks in the language of nobility, lovers, sympathetic characters, instead of that of servants and "lighter people."
in some ways the ending of twelfth night is a bit of a bummer -- malvolio storms off, pledging revenge on everyone who has stood there and laughed while he was stripped of his dignity, and as far as we no there is no conclusion, no justice is served. how can we just, like, walk away and be fine with that? i guess to answer that i'd paraphrase an article mentioned in the back of the folgers: the greatest revenge malvolio gets, the greatest victory over all the nobility with which he shares the stage, is being, in the end, the most memorable character in the play.
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