#you emote pain so beautifully my guy

[andy-clutterbuck]

11x24 | Rest in Peace

[that-ineffable-devil]

I've praised George Rextrew a lot for the emotion he put behind various actions, and I stand by that.

But I also want to take a moment to appreciate Jayden Revri's ability to handle Charles' more explosive emotions.

In the Devlin house, you watch his anguish and anger build in equal measure. Unlike the characters, we get to see the build-up to the outburst that leads to him getting stuck in the loop. The first time he sees that man murder his family he wants to look away, he tries to look away. You can see how much it hurts him, but he turns back and watches anyway--and the horror turns to rage.

When the Night Nurse comes, he fights her off--very aggressively yes, but they didn't see what he did when she took him into his memories--and everyone looks at him like...like he's a bomb that may go off again? Like they've never seen him before?

The boy's just been through some of his most traumatic memories and committed an act of violence that probably only made that experience worse, and he sees his friends looking at him the way he'd always feared they would--like he's a bad guy. And Jayden portrays that grief and pain so beautifully.

And when he gives that little "no" while he's crying and jerks away from Edwin's outstretched hand?

My heart feels like it's been squashed and wrung out.

[10underoot2]

I thought I would have so much to say about the car accident scene. And while I could go on for a while on why it's everything I've ever wanted from a scene of this nature and why it's a beautifully acted cinematic piece, I do think the beauty of the scene lies so much in silence. Their expressions are do a fantastic job to express their emotional state so I'm just gonna call attention to a few things I won't get over anytime soon.

Imagine being Haein and seeing your husband wrecking a car window in hysteria. Imagine seeing disbelief on his face when he sees you and walks towards you. Imagine watching him unable to breathe properly (sound on and high for this scene). Imagine seeing life flood into him as soon as you touch him.

Jiwon plays such an important part here. Because Haein has NEVER seen Hyunwoo like this. He's a pretty calm nice, non-violent guy. She knows him to like mostly everyone and he rarely gets angry - he's pretty composed. But then what is this look of complete shattered pain on his face? With a mix of disbelief, bearing the heaviest heart on the planet? He's unrecognisable to her. She can't make sense of any of his actions. She's in utter shock hearing how hardly any air is making it's way into his lungs.

In his eyes is a look of crazed wilderness just tamed. He's out of his sense. Completely lost in the events that have just passed. Not believing that he can breathe. That it's okay. All is well in the world for now. She's unscathed.

'What's going on? Calm down.'

The way she asks him to calm down - touching his face - cause she just doesn't know what in the world could send him in such a frenzy to forget himself. Her asking him to calm down here is everything to me. She's really just saying I'm here okay. Calm down. Calm down, you can breathe. Tell me what happened and I can fix it.

'Even still, Are you crazy? How could you break the window with your bare hands? Look at this!'

I know it probably didn't register to him at that point. But he's hearing her being worried for him again when he thought her lost forever. Wouldn't that sound like music to his ears.

And her...god she's so worried for him. She's never seen him like this. She doesn't know what happened to make him like this. One she sees his absolutely broken bloody hand. Two she's seeing her husband absolutely crushed. She's so confused.

That is until his words hit her like a truck. I think she had an idea that he did it to save her but she didn't know he did it because he thought her dead. And that makes all the difference for her.

Also I thought it was very interesting to keep showing his injured hand clenching. I think it was a way to show how the physical pain still didn't hold a candle to his emotional turmoil. He CLENCHES that broken hand multiple times. I can't even begin to think when he actively registered the pain.

The need for constant touch to reaffirm that she indeed is there. The sitting down. The head on her hand. The heavy breathing. *Chef's kiss*

I love women comforting the man they love when he's broken. Gah! That hand on his face and hug. Her embracing him. Letting him cry all he wants. Giving him the reaffirmation he needs by placing her self as close to him as possible. Trying to tame and override his sense. The hand on the nape of his neck. The hand caressing his hair lovingly. And good god, the RINGS.

Also notice his breathing on her shoulder. He's trying to calm himself. Telling himself she's here. Hearing her say it's alright. Everything will be alright.

I'm sure they stay like this until the ambulance comes and asks them if they're hurt. Only then Haein must've gently tore him apart from her (hand on his face again ofcourse) and convinced/guided him to finally get treatment. I can just Imagine Hyunwoo completely dishevelled going, 'Huh *sniffs*......oh.......Right, my hand' and that's when the pain hits him.

Special mention to the hospital conversation when Haein asks him 'Will you sob like this if I die?' and he says truthfully, bashfully, embarrassed but without missing a beat 'Ofcourse.' He's hiding behind nothing. He truly meant to give up on himself after her.

For me this is also the night Haein starts to write her diary. Hyunwoo must've been sound asleep, amped up on painkillers and she must've had so much time to sit and admire him and write.

Gif credits: @wolha and @seawherethesunsets

[vultbae]

water and oil ✩

tashi duncan x female reader blurb

↳ summary: the two female college tennis archenemies play against each other.

↳ warnings: angst, being closeted.

↳ notes: english is not my first language pookies! also, I couldn't believe there aren't almost any Tashi fics??? and happy pride! not proof-read btw

word count: 1.1k

An ear-piercing scream rips through the air, slicing through the ambient noise of the tennis court like a knife, instantly making your body freeze. Your chest aggressively compresses as you watch your lifetime opponent, Tashi Duncan, fall on her back and crumple to the ground in agony, hands clutching her injured knee as if trying to hold herself together. 

Everything has diverted into penetrating silence, and you feel your racket gradually slipping from your fingers, the once-familiar weight slipping away unnoticed as you stare at Tashi Duncan with shock and a rigid, fast-pounding heart. Her face is a torturous portrayal of suffering, with knitted eyebrows and a constant audible sob escaping her lips.

You can't —or are incapable— of moving a muscle; they have locked themselves with a key you forgot where you placed. Instead, you stare with tears brimming at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over but held back by sheer will. Suddenly, the sour mutterings from the crowd began to stab the thick fog of your shock. At first, the voices were just a faraway hum, but soon, the words became crystal clear.

"Why isn't she helping her?" 

"Look at her—she doesn't even care. She will win by default."

"They hate each other; she won't help." 

You are aware that the public perception of your rivalry with Tashi is intense, fueled by years of competitive clashes on and off the court. So, technically, they aren't wrong. You kind of hate each other, at least publicly. Even college recruiters had recognized early on that your rivalry was too severe to coexist on the same team—you for UCLA and Tashi for Stanford. You are polar opposites in playing style and temperament, each embodying traits that clash rather than complement. 

While other tennis players in your age group get praised for their ability to work beautifully together, Tashi and you resemble more water and oil.

And water and oil don't mix. 

Your heart sinks further as your gaze shifts from Tashi Duncan to the male figure now hysterically rushing onto the court. He is tall and good-looking, with blonde curls and an exaggerated expression of concern that you find melodramatic and infuriatingly genuine all at once. Recognition dawns upon you like a dark cloud—Art Donaldson, the young tennis promise Tashi had been talking to lately, also from Stanford.

The sight of Donaldson crossing onto the court, jumping over the net without hesitation, and acting like a wannabe hero stirs a mixture of sour emotions within your core—jealousy, resentment, and a deep sense of helplessness. Of course, it makes absolute sense Tashi Duncan is dating a handsome, talented tennis player from her same school... and guess what? He came to the rescue! You internally cringe at the horrid thought of everyone applauding him for caring for your girlfriend.

The crowd's accusatory murmurs continue behind your back. Your fists clench at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you follow Art Donaldson's silhouette kneeling beside Tashi's body with eyes filled with hostility and envy. You watch as he gently takes Tashi's hand in his, his facial expression softening as he murmurs charming words of reassurance to the girl deliriously in pain. You can't tolerate it. You stay there, still torn and immobilized, with your mind racing and endeavoring to decide what to do. 

"Sometimes I wish I was a dude," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper in the quiet of Tashi's dimly lit college dorm. Tashi's fingers lightly brushed through your hair but abruptly stopped. "If I was that Patrick dude or the other blonde guy, my life would be ten times easier."  

You heard her sigh. 

"But you wouldn't be as good at tennis," Tashi softly replied, and you could tell she was avoiding conflict at all costs. 

A beat.

"But I would have you," you said, turning your head to face Tashi, whose expression remained reflective and contradictory as she stared into the soft glow of the lamp lying on her night table. "I promise that's all that matters to me, Tash," you reassured.

Your eyes met, each with equal sorrow and frustration. Tashi broke eye contact first.

Tashi knew that picking arguments with Patrick was very easy, and she didn't have the urge to speak of anything else annexed from tennis and sex with him. You somehow managed to actively amuse her with conversations regarding your crusty dog back home, the food you have tried when you travel abroad, and everlasting anecdotes that provoke you to giggle and steal a genuine smile from Tashi's lips every single time. 

And it wasn't too long after you exchanged your first words in private for her to realize she loved you. But not in a chummy way. Tashi romantically loved you.

But she never said it. Tashi just guessed you would assume she maniacally loved you, and you would satisfy yourself with that.

But the belief of Tashi loving you felt unimaginable in situations like this.

And now, the panorama of them together reflecting a couple straight out of a film—Art's concern etched on his face, Tashi's distress requiring attention—served as a stark, fucking bitter reminder of the captivating image they could market for years. They look perfect, they look—right.

So, why bother ruining Tashi's career? If her key to branding conquest is right there, kneeling next to her aching body in the form of a six-foot gorgeous tennis player.

In that rare moment of clarity, you make a sore, silent vow to honor your secret, to continue navigating the labyrinth of hidden tenderness and affection if Tashi doesn't decide to drop you after this.

But, as you are one intrusive thought away from stepping out of the court —or, better said, escape— Tashi's hazel orbs, flickering with anxiety and in between dried and brand-new tears, disembark on your outline. Internally, she wonders why you cry —at least as much as her, and you wish you could clarify is because you feel powerless. You are powerless. 

Tashi stares one, five, fifteen, thirty seconds. She doesn't quit. You stare back. Encircling her, the Stanford medical team consoles her and provides instructions to which she doesn't pay attention. To her right side, and almost covering the view of her, the blonde guy starts to question what —or who— she is looking at.

You mouth, "I love you."

Tashi's eyes widen slightly in surprise, and you can see that little pout of hers appearing over her lips.

Art turns to track Tashi's gaze, falling over you.

And when he's not looking, Tashi mouths back.

"I love you too."

And that's what matters because no one else needs to know that water and oil can mix.

[littleblackraincloudofcourse]

My thoughts on the lives and deaths of the House of Usher

Prospero - I almost feel sorry for Perry. His ideas weren't bad and unlike his siblings he was doing them himself. I also found it hilarious when he tried to fuck his brother wife. If nothing else that kid had confidence. Fredrick was dick to both of them anyway and she deserved to have fun. If you remove the blackmail and acid rain and that would have been one hell of a party.If Perry hadn't been planning to blackmail everyone he wouldn't have deserved his death. But his death was EXQUISITE. Everything about that scene was so perfect I can't find words to describe it. Everyone involved in creating that scene deserves an award

Camille - We actually got to know very little about her. Her whole story was about finding dirty on the others and managing crisis for the family. Even her death isn't shown. I think the point was that she never got to just be. She lived and died for others but never connected with anyone.

Napoleon - Leo was to me the closest to likable of any of the siblings. He clearly loved them and that may have been the only love he way capable of. He certainly didn't love his boyfriend or anyone he had/was having sex with. He treated people like objects. His death is tricky to categorize. On one side what he did to Pluto was horrifying and anyone who treats animals that way deserves the same fate. But he never actually did any of those things. It was all hallucinations and illusions first from drugs then Verna. He was stressed and grieving and kept finding dead animals everywhere. I would be ready to smash walls in that situation too. He definitely didn't need to be a pet owner but I think his death should have been less torturous

Victorine - I wrote this one last because it was my favorite Poe story growing up and she played it beautifully. That slow steady decent into madness I should have hated this character most of all. Those poor chimps and who knows what other innocent creatures she killed with experiments she knew wouldn't work. Even with her father constantly pushing for progress she should have stopped. Verna gave her so many chances, she wasn't even there when Vic killed her girlfriend or herself. She could have stopped at any point. Yes she still would have died but it could have been painless and less tragic. T'Nia Miller's performance was so good that I actually felt sad for her in that final scene. At least until I thought of the chimps again.

Tamerlane - Knock off Madeleine. Where her sisters hid and guarded their personalities she never had one. Her entire existence was for appearances (hence the ridiculous amount of mirrors). Even when she tries to show emotion she couldn't look at the person she was talking to. Her death might have seemed the most passive but it was shoot beautifully. It was also the only thing she actively accomplished on her own.

Fredrick - Fuck you Frodrick. When his siblings said he was just like their father they didn't even realize how right they were. He might have been worse. His poor wife deserved so much better. I genuinely enjoyed watching the pendulum swinging towards him as he was paralyzed beneath it. I only wish there was more than one so he could feel more pain. He was so much a piece of shit Verna enjoyed killing him. Everyone else got warnings, chances to walk away and have peaceful deaths But this asshole, she knew he didn't deserve one. He got exactly what he deserved. Lying in a puddle of his own piss waiting to die. Seriously fuck that guy

Lenore - This sweet brave girl was the only good the Ushers ever brought into the world. So pure and good even Verna mourned having to take her. I loved that she got to know how much good she put into the world and how many lives she saved. Even knowing from the beginning she would die, it was still heartbreaking to see. At least it was painless and instant

Madeleine - She was cold and selfish but she was also usually right. I respect that even when making a deal with the devil she still had standards. She at least made sure not to have children incase. There is a bit of irony in the fact she didn't want to spend her life serving a man then chaining her destiny to her brother. Gave of serious twincest vibes that I am glad where not explored. Her death seemed a fair balance for her past and mirroring her mother's death brought everything full circle. She fell with the house of Usher. Also sapphire is a good color for her.

Roderick - Without doubt the worst of them all. He knowingly killed millions with his drug. He destroyed any shred of humanity in his children. Possibly worst of all, he knew the damage he was causing and who would have to pay for it but he didn't even blink. Being mentally tortured by his dead children was not enough. He deserved the worst death of all. I understand the poetry of him dying the same way his father did but I wish he suffered more.

[bau-drabbles]

haunted

emily, one of your close friends in the bau, comes back and after months of crying over her death you're not sure how to feel. it hurts the most when the deception also comes from aaron, the man you've loved for so long

a/n: idk how i feel about it. it's very rushed because half of it was deleted and i couldn't be bothered to go back and rewrite it properly.

aaron hottie angst again because his pain is so beautifully upsetting. kinda long so enjoy 🤍

part 2 :)

"everybody, have a seat" aaron's voice is more tense than usual, as if he was about to announce some bad news. your heart races but you walked in, grabbing a seat next to morgan. jj stands beside hotch and she looks almost worried, toying with her fingers. your brows knitted in confusion, wondering what was so urgent

"why, what's going on? everything all right?" spencer asked, his brow raised.

"seven months ago, i made a decision that affected this team. as you all know, emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with doyle," hotch began

"but the doctors were able to stabilize her and she was airlifted from boston to bethesda under covert exfiltration. her identity was strictly need-to-know. and she stayed there until she was well enough to travel. she was reassigned to paris where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to for her security" he finishes but there's pin drop silence in return. his arms had folded over awaiting a response but everyone was shocked to say a thing

your heart feels like it's plummeted at the bottom of the earth, the breath completely knocked out from your lungs. you hope someone announces its a big joke but hotch looks at all of you expectantly. jj has her head slightly bowed, unable to make any eye contact and its then you realise she knew all along.

"she's alive?" you didn't even think you said it out loud but aaron looks at you, his brows in a tight frown. you see the truth spilled on his face and it stings immensely knowing how he saw you in your vulnerable moments and still decided not to say a thing

he knew all along

"but we buried her" someone else says but at that point you completely blank out, sinking further in your seat. hoping the ground would swallow you whole and remove the burden crushing your heart.

"as i said, i take full responsibility for the decision. if anyone has any issues, they should be directed toward me" aaron looks at you again but you don't bother looking in his direction.

all those times, every single tear, every second of sadness, all of it was.... fake?

"any issues?? yeah, i got issues-" morgan started, standing up towards hotch. but he doesn't go far for garcia speaks again. her eyes are brimmed with tears, walking quickly towards the door

"oh, my god" and you turn, unable to register the vision in front of you

"i am so sorry, i really am. not a day went by that i didn't want to...really, i... you didn't deserve that and i'm so sorry" the voice you thought you'd never hear again in this lifetime spoke. there she genuinely was, in the living breathing flesh. garcia grabs her in a hug and they share a tearful laugh about something you can't hear.

"there is so much i want to tell you guys and-and i will, i promise" the woman you spent crying in private about for weeks was now alive, like nothing had even happened.

garcia embraces her tight again and jj, morgan, rossi and reid followed suit.

it doesn't comprehend there she genuinely was, actually physically standing there. so many emotions had run through you, unclear of which one it was. all you can think about was her in your arms actively dying and you crying as you screamed for medics to come.

so you remained silent, while everyone had hugged her you stood just looking. unsure of what to feel, unsure over how to act. it felt foreign and you get lost in the reality of the situation, not realising she had made her way towards you

"y/n..." emily walked closer a smile on her lips but you couldn't reciprocate it. how could she so... nonchalanant about everything? those nights you spent crying, the nights your heart had felt so hollow in your chest, all of that burned in your mind.

the anguish, the pain, the guilt, all of it was an illusion.

and aaron, the man with whom you had trusted with your whole life glanced at you through the corner. he doesn't know what to say, what could be said? unintentionally he had lied to you, comforted you through pain that didn't even exist. he saw you vulnerable after her death, he was the one that pieced you back. and now it felt like all the parts he held together were coming undone.

"emily" you nod, a tight lipped smile on yours. even just being in her presence is enough to tip you over the edge so you distract yourself, holding the file. how strange, a mere seven months ago you two were the closest of friends.

and now you barely even knew her

"i-" she opens her arms slightly to embrace you but you open your hands to give her the information. touching her felt too soon, you needed some time to think.

"this is the file with doyle and everything going on with the kid. we don't have time to spare" you nod, quickly hand it to her and walk straight for the coffee. it wasn't caffeine that was going to help you tonight but it didn't hurt to try

•••

"hey..." morgan finds you staring blankly at the wall with the pictures, trying to find the next step in the kidnapping. and no matter how much you tried to regain your composure, it cracked piece by piece. exposing your facade and your true feelings behind the matter.

you were determined to keep a straight front for your team but every time you saw emily and jj and especially hotch, it felt like a challenge you weren't sure you'd win

"hey" you continue to take through the information, trying to piece the murder but there's so much on your mind it all feels like its vanishing in the air. like nothing is registering in your brain.

"hey" jj comes in and you stiffen up, quickly catching some files and exiting the room. she calls your name but you simply walk straight for the hallway. true, it was a childish thing to do but you couldn't look at any of them without the overwhelming urge to break down.

aaron, however, catches you in the hallway and you step back not wanting to even touch him, unable to look at his deceiting face.

"i know what you've been through. i understand that you're angry but i hope that you understand that this is not about you or me. this was about saving emily" his tone is sharp, firm but you see the hurricane of emotions in his eyes.

the most dominant being sorrow. but that wasn't enough for you, you almost wanted him to experience the pain you'd felt.

"why do you care about what i think hotch? it never mattered before, evidently" you match his tone in return, trying to go about him.

"y/n i know you're disappointed how we handled emily but it wasn't in our control, we couldn't say anything" he stops you and you don't even want to look at him, he knew how hard it had been on you. and he still didn't breathe a word of her survival.

"you couldn't or you wouldn't?? don't pretend to care what i've been through hotch. i came to you crying for weeks on end and not once did you have the decency to tell me the truth. not fucking once. what did you expect? i'd hug prentiss and all would be well? give me a break" you scoffed, pulling away from him. he stood stunned for a moment, his brows scrunched in a confused frown

"i know and i understand-" "i don't think you do. we have a kid that's about to die hotch, now is not the time" you utter, glaring as you walked by him.

•••

the plane ride was silent, moreso than usual. you noticed the glances your team was giving you but as long as the job was done efficiently, there wasn't really anything to say, you'd talk on your own time. just you and your book was enough for now.

all that was interrupted when a voice cut in. a voice you thought you weren't ready to hear just yet

"declan is little shaken up but the doctor said he'll be fine" she smiled at you, eyes looking at you but you refused to make any contact

"good. we got there in time" you commented, turning the page.

"yes..." she taps her fingers on the table, unsure on how to continue the conversation. part of you hopes she walks away, not ready to listen to her just yet.

"well we're going to rossi's tomorrow night. i want to see if he really can cook. are you coming?" she asked hopefully, a small smile on her lips

"i don't know, i'm not so sure i can make it" you leaned your elbow on the armrest, continuing to read the same sentence until she left.

"look, l/n, i know you're mad at us because we didn't tell you what really happened, and... i understand that. but i promise you, we had no choice" she begins and she sighs a little before looking directly at you.

"you mourned one friend, i mourned seven" she chuckled lightly, trying to make you see from her perspective. but you couldn't, the betrayal rang far too loudly in your ears.

his especially

"it's not a competition emily" you put your book down, directly looking at her eyes. everything you had been bursting to say left your lips before you could even comprehend it.

"you didn't carry my coffin, you didn't cry over someone that was presumably dead. do you know how many times i was angry at myself for not doing more? i kept replaying that moment when i held you, near enough lifeless and completely covered in blood. and all i could do was beg you to breathe and stay with me. you didn't take medications because every time you closed your damn eyes, all you could see was your dead friend in her own blood did you? don't pretend we're the same emily, you have no idea what i went through" with every word, you could feel the anger boiling deep inside of you. the annoyance coursing through your veins like wildfire.

"you could've given us a hint, a sign, anything to indicate proof of life. but i had to hold the pain over your death for months. so forgive me if i don't want to go through that again" your tone was sharp, picking up your book back to indicate the conversation was over

"y/n i'm sorry i-" she began softly but you shook your head

"look emily, i appreciate what you're trying to do. really. and i'm happy that you're back but i need time and space too. i can't do this job efficiently otherwise. so please..." you indicated for her to leave and she reluctantly stood up, wanting to say a million words. but none of them seemed quite correct

you hoped no one would come and try to talk, just wishing this plane ride would end quickly and you'd be in the safe sanctuary of your bedroom

and for once your wish is granted

•••

the precinct was empty, dark and cold. replicating how you felt on the inside.

your bag was in your office and you hoped everyone was gone, you couldn't handle seeing their faces.

it was hard, because on the one hand your friend was back. you wanted to rejoice, and hug her so tight but the way it all happened... it felt wrong.

"y/n" and there it is. the voice you definitely didn't want to hear tonight

"aaron" you reply in response, turning around to face him. he looks dishevelled, almost as if he had to run to catch you back here. on any other day before, it would've made you fawn over his adorableness but it didn't stir a thing in you now.

"i know what i did was inexcusable. i know you're hurt, i know it could've been handled better. i realise that but you have to understand that this wasn't my order. if you had known, it would've put you in a compromising position too" he comes close until he's standing a foot away. his eyes are aligt with an emotion you've never seen him use before, pleading

"i just can't get over it hotch. i'm so happy she's back and under different circumstances i would've celebrated it. but i can't because you lied to me. for months and months" you want to fall in to his arms, to forget about everything that had transpired tonight but it would solve nothing. so you stay where you are, the ache in your heart growing by the minute.

"and for that i deeply apologise" before, this would have solved your problems. but now it felt like the gasoline added to the fire.

"you don't care about me aaron and i'm fooling myself if i keep pretending that everything is okay"

"i do y/n, i just need time. i just-"

"how much time?? how much longer can i be expected to wait?? how much longer can i pretend that you actually care about me-"

"i do care!" "oh you do?? you watched me cry for months. does that sound like caring? and you never want to progress further in this. how can i be with someone who doesn't care? emily coming back was just the icing. you'd use anything and anyone to get what you want hotch. you don't care about anyone, much less me"

"is that what you think of me?" he whispers, eyes narrowing at you

"it's what i know of you. from the moment i met you to now. i thought it was fine at first. but i can't do it. do you have any idea how.... hard it is to love you?" every word was a dagger to his heart, twisting and twisting until it was difficult to breathe.

"i'm done. i need a break. from you, from the bau, from everyone" you let out a shaky sigh, hugging your bag closer to your body. the man before you was your lifeline and now it felt like you were drowning in the depths of him. the only way to save yourself would be to remove yourself from his grasp, to pretend that he, your lover, never existed. he was aaron hotchner, your boss. he would never be the man you were so desperately and hopelessly in love with.

"y/n please don't-"

"i'm taking my holidays. don't contact me, don't find me. i just really.... don't want to see you ever" with that you stormed out of the room, away from him and his presence. away from his beautiful face you came to adore, away from all the memories you would forever cherish until your last breath.

but no amount of miles between you both could ever be enough

[flyingwargle]

bokuaka fanfic recommendations!

i am uncharacteristically nervous about posting this haha i read a lot of fanfic and always enjoy looking at other people's recommendations, so i thought, why not share some of my favorites?

all these recs are sfw!

oneshots!

banana bread by leuralo_1 gen. 2.1k words. bokuto pov. bokuto and his roommates have too many bananas and akaashi takes the train overnight to make banana bread with it. that's it, that's the fic. it's so cute, i'm begging you to read it.

spending all, spending all my time (loving you) by hyeyu gen. 3.4k words. bokuto pov. akaashi is a dimension traveler and gets nailed in the head by bokuto's serve, so he stays until he fixes his dimension travel device. one of my first bokuaka fics that i read, very cute and the pining is palpable.

in the same room, at the same time by quel_nightmare teen. 21.5k. alternating pov. marriage proposal fic! i read this all in one sitting and my heart was ready to burst by the end. very cute, i won't spoil anything other than that <3

astronomy in reverse (it was me who was discovered) by flumes teen. 22.1k. akaashi pov. a non-linear narrative about akaashi pining over bokuto from high school to the future. very poetic and lyrical, with the boys discovering their feelings for each other in the end. i also read this all in one sitting.

longfics!

background check by ghostystarr gen. 2 chapters, 8k words. msby4 changes bokuto's lockscreen picture for fun since he doesn't lock his phone, but the game changes when he changes it to a picture of akaashi. a very fun and cute fic with the msby4 gang helping their bro out.

truth is such a violent force by inaminute teen. 8 chapters, 41k. it starts with akaashi's 1st year at fukurodani and explores his dysfunctional family, growing relationship with bokuto, and deals with homophobia. i love the fukurodani boys in this, and how supportive they are of one another. there's also a sequel that is just as heart-wrenching as this one! (both have happy endings, don't worry)

flightless owl by volleydorkscentral teen. 31 chapters, 57.6k words. bokuto gravely injures his leg and has to sit the rest of his third year out. this fic focuses on his recovery, his relationship with akaashi developing, and overcoming the pain of his injury. has a happy ending, as well!

the way you look at me by mocaw teen. 36 chapters, 79.2k words. bokuto sees train guy every night on his commute after practice until he decides to take the first step and introduce himself. this fic is the reason why i ship bokuaka. it's slowburn, deals with anxiety and ptsd, developing relationships, and is just beautifully written (i am also extremely biased because this shaped my undergrad years). please read it, i'm begging you.

the death of our hands by bershlate teen. 25 chapters, 109k words. this longfic explores akaashi's ocd, his dysfunctional family, and an amazing oc older brother, along with his relationship with bokuto. i read this recently and finished it in a few days because of how gripping the story is <3

i'll let you shatter me with your pain by kuromantic teen. 23 chapters, 160.4k words. akaashi is an empath and when he brushes against bokuto, he gets the biggest shock of emotions of his life. this fic is very heavy, dealing with abuse, malnutrition, trauma, and homophobia. it has a happy ending, and our boys do get together <3

i'll reblog this from time to time to add more recs as i keep reading! of course, feel free to check out my own bokuaka fics >:3 i might post more?? for other pairings and general recs?? and for genshin too since i have a lot there haha okay enjoy bye!

[tonyspank]

PROLOGUE | RECKLESS

Tara Carpenter x G!P Reader x Female OC

Warnings: mentions of zombies, angst i guess, and that's it i think

A/N: Iris’s faceclaim is Olivia!!

series masterlist | main masterlist | next chapter

"Happy Birthday!" You shout with a huge smile on your face as you hold out a beautifully wrapped gift. Iris's face lights up, her mouth opening in shock.

She quickly takes the gift from your hands and thanks you with genuine excitement. Her eyes sparkle with joy as she eagerly begins to unwrap the present, unable to contain her curiosity and anticipation.

Heather, your girlfriend's sister, records the two of you, capturing the genuine happiness in Iris's eyes and the love between the two of you. Heather's smile mirrors Iris's excitement as she records this special birthday memory, ensuring it will be cherished for years to come.

"Oh my god. You're lying!" Iris exclaims, her voice filled with disbelief and overwhelming happiness. She looks at you, searching for confirmation, her heart pounding with excitement.

"From our first date..." She says, her voice barely above a whisper. She lifts the neckless, which holds a crystal in its pendent.

The crystal catches the light, shimmering with a brilliance that matches the sparkle in Iris's eyes. It is a symbol of your journey together, a reminder of the love and connection you have shared since that very first date.

As Iris holds it in her hands, she can't help but feel overwhelmed by the depth of emotion and meaning behind this heartfelt gift.

Iris brings you into a warm embrace, holding you tightly as tears of joy stream down her face. She whispers, "Thank you so much." You rub her back gently, goosebumps appearing on your skin at her touch.

During this moment, you realize that this gift has not only brought happiness to Iris but has also strengthened the bond between the two of you, solidifying your love for each other even more.

As you both stand there, wrapped in each other's arms, time seems to stand still. The weight of the moment fills the room, and you can't help but be grateful for this deep connection you share with Iris.

"You guys are too cute!" Iris's mom speaks up, admiring the scene before her. Her words break the spell, causing both of you to chuckle and blush. You pull apart from your girlfriend, exchanging smiles, both feeling happier than ever.

"Come, come, it's time to blow out the candles." Iris's mom gestures towards the birthday cake on the table, adorned with flickering candles. You both walk over, still basking in the warmth of the moment, and join the rest of the family in celebrating Iris's special day.

Iris sends you the world's biggest smile as she blows out the candles, her eyes sparkling with joy.

Little did you know, that smile would become a distant memory.

But when you were in that moment, surrounded by loved ones and with Iris's infectious happiness, you couldn't help but believe that together, you could conquer anything.

"I hate you!" Iris yells, her once joyful eyes now filled with anger and frustration. That special day feels like a distant dream now. You shake your head, lifting out a hand to calm your girlfriend down. "You don't mean that. C'mon, babe." You reply, your voice quivering with every word.

Iris's lips tremble as tears start to stream down her face. The weight of her words hangs heavy in the air, leaving a painful silence between you. It's in moments like these that you realize how fragile love can be and how much work it takes to mend a broken heart.

"How could you?" She whispers. "Why didn't you tell me about it, Y/N?" You feel a lump form in your throat as guilt washes over you. "I didn't want to hurt you," you say, your voice barely audible.

"I was scared of losing you, but I realize now that keeping it from you was even worse." She just shakes her head at your words.

"What was going to happen in the next couple of months, huh? You we're just going to leave without telling me?" Tears well up in her eyes as she continues, "I thought we were supposed to be a team, Y/N. How could you not trust me enough to share your plans with me?"

You're silent. You reach out to hold her trembling hands, desperately hoping to convey the depth of your regret and the realization of the damage caused by your lack of communication.

"I didn't know how you were going to take it! Fuck, Iris! I love you, and being here with you has been the happiest moments of my life, but you can't expect me to want to sit around all day. I want to be something... I wanna go to college; venture out into the world!" You agrue back, your voice filled with a mix of frustration and determination.

"So, you were just going to leave the country? Leave me behind?" Iris says, her voice lower and softer than before. You take a deep breath, throwing your head back. "I was going to tell you."

"At the last second?" She asks, her strong gaze never breaking from yours. "Iris, I didn't mean to keep it from you. I was scared of how you would react," you admit, your voice tinged with regret. "But I want you to understand that this is something I need to do for myself. It's not about leaving you behind, it's about pursuing my dreams and finding my own path in life."

"Y/N..." she whispers, stepping closer to you. "I never loved anyone as much as I love you." Her hands find yours, causing you to relax. "You could've told me. I don't wanna lose you."

You pull her into a gentle embrace, "I'm sorry," you say softly. "I don't want to lose you either."

Those few months passed faster than you expected. During that time, you made sure to cherish every moment with her, knowing that soon you would have to embark on your own journey. As the days flew by, you couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and sadness for what lies ahead.

Of course you'd miss her. She was truly the love of your life. But you also knew that this journey was something you needed to do for yourself—to grow and explore the world outside of your comfort zone. And deep down, you hoped that distance wouldn't weaken the bond you shared with her.

As you sit in the back of an Uber with your bags in the truck, making your way to the airport, you can't help but reflect on the memories you have created together. From the late-night conversations to the spontaneous adventures, every moment with her shaped who you are today.

You remember the laughter and tears you shared, the support she provided during your toughest times, and the way she always believed in your dreams. Even the one you were creating now.

Sweet / I Thought You Wanted To Dance, which plays on the Uber's radio, is interrupted by a loud alarm. Confused, you look up from your phone and notice the flashing lights and a different siren alarm passing by your Uber, indicating an emergency situation. Your heart races as you wonder what could be happening, hoping that it's nothing too serious.

Your eyes snap back towards the radio, "Attention, citizens! This is an emergency broadcast issued by local authorities. We are facing an unprecedented threat to our community. Reports indicate a widespread outbreak of a virus that is reanimating the deceased and turning them into flesh-hungry creatures. These are extremely dangerous and pose a significant risk to human life. --"

"-- Please remain indoors and lock all doors and windows. Do not attempt to confront or engage with any infected individuals. Emergency services are currently overwhelmed, and it is crucial that you stay calm and await further instructions. Stay tuned to this broadcast for updates on evacuation procedures and safe zones."

Iris. That's all that went through your mind in that moment. Was she safe? Was she going to be okay? You sit up in your seat, "Turn around!" You shout at the Uber driver, desperate to get back to your apartment as quickly as possible.

"I don't think—" You interject, gripping the passenger seat in front of you tighter. "Turn around!"

The Uber driver hesitates for a moment, but seeing the dread in your eyes, he quickly makes a U-turn and heads back towards your apartment.

Thoughts of Iris's safety consume your mind as you anxiously pray for her well-being. Time feels like it's moving in slow motion as you desperately hope to reach her before anymore danger unfolds.

When you arrived at your apartment building, it felt like a dead zone. No sign of life anywhere. The eerie silence amplifies your fear, and you can't help but wonder what could have happened to Iris. As you rush out of the car, your heart pounding in your chest, you frantically scan the surroundings for any clue or trace of her presence.

You run to your apartment door, your heart dropping as it's wide open. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." You mutter to yourself, searching room to room for your girlfriend. Every step you take echoes through the empty hallways, adding to the haunting atmosphere.

The sound of your own breath fills the air, intensifying the feeling of dread that grips you. Your mind races with possibilities, each one more terrifying than the last. As you reach the last room, a chilling realization washes over you, there is no sign of Iris anywhere.

You sprint as fast as you can. Running through the open front door and scan the desolate street, desperately hoping to catch a glimpse of her familiar figure. Panic sets in as you realize she is nowhere in sight, leaving you with a sinking feeling of helplessness.

Again. You find yourself sprinting, but everything's different now. You've adjusted to a world where the dead walk, and you're not sprinting in search of your missing girlfriend, but in the safety of your life as a large herd of walkers follow behind you.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you navigate through the abandoned streets, constantly on edge. The once bustling city now lies in ruins, with crumbling buildings and streets littered with debris.

The silence is only broken by the shuffling footsteps of the undead behind you, a constant reminder of the world's grim reality.

You break through an alley, which leads to a forest. The dense foliage offers a temporary respite from the chaos and decay of the city. As you enter the forest, the air becomes crisp and filled with the scent of earth and pine.

The sunlight filters through the canopy, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor, providing a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that surrounds you.

Yet you keep sprinting. Run. Run. Run. The sound of your pounding footsteps echoes through the trees, pushing you to keep going and outrun the horrors that lurk behind. Your heart races in your chest, fueled by adrenaline and the desperate need to find safety.

You try to stop in your tracks as you realize you're being cut off by another herd of walkers that slowly but surely make their way towards you.

Panic sets in as you frantically search for an escape route, your mind racing to find a solution. The sound of their moans grows louder, urging you to make a split-second decision that could mean life or death.

Shit! You feel something grab onto you, sending a jolt of fear through your body. You turn around to see a walker reaching out, its decaying fingers inches away from your face. Instinctively, you fight back, desperately pushing it away and breaking free from its grasp.

Suddenly, a shot rings through the air, and the walker falls down. You spin around, searching for the source of the shot but finding no one. A branch breaks north-west of you, causing you to tense up.

You realize that you're not alone and that there may be more danger lurking nearby. Your heart races as you weigh your options, unsure of whether to investigate or quickly make your escape.

But it's revealed to be a dark-haired girl, "Hurry! This way, now." You hesitate for a moment, unsure if you can trust her. However, her urgency and the fact that she might have just saved your life convinces you to follow her lead.

Without wasting any more time, you sprint towards her, grateful for the unexpected help in this dangerous situation.

[biasbuck]

BiAsBuck’s ficrec Fridays

I actually did start drafting this yesterday but then my day got derailed by moustacheddie. Back again with another round of the fic I've been reading this week! You can find previous rec lists here.

27 July 2024

if you leave the light on by cloudydaisies is a post-canon fic that skips the messy bits and goes straight to a place where Buck and Eddie are free to be with each other. Though of course nothing is ever that straightforward, and here the speedbump comes in the form of an extended jeep engine light metaphor that works so beautifully. A delicious slow burn, in which Buck trusts Eddie when he says he can fix his truck and it's best to just stay with him and carpool until it's ready. Some really really lovely romance.

loves a game, wanna play? by @exhuastedpigeon have I ever seen a single episode of Love Island? No! Did that stop me enjoying the heck out of this wonderfully indulgent and fun fic. Absolutely not. In an effort to get Eddie out of his post-canon summer without Chris funk, Buck convinces him to sign up to Love Island with him. Has Eddie seen Love Island? No. Will that stop him from finding the love that's been right in front of him all along (and get a tan whilst he's at it?) Absolutely not! So funny and playful. A genuine and utter delight.

Drink in Hand by EiraLloyd a Hen POV Eddie coming out fic, with bonus Karen. In which Eddie kisses a guy at a bar and likes it:

She asks, “How bad is this going to be?”

Eddie holds out the bottle he’s carrying so she can read the label. “I brought mezcal.”

Translation: I’m having an existential crisis.

How is Hen supposed to turn him away? He brought mezcal.

so much left in store by @lesbianrobin in which Eddie is a single Dad in college, and Buck is the adhd punk kid at the back of the class, but of course he's an absolute baby whisperer. As they quickly become best friends and each other's support systems, Buck lets Eddie into a way to blow of steam...but a small disaster might accidentally lead to firefighters showing up.

all your letters in the sand (cannot heal me like your hand) by @dadbodbuck ok a sharp left turn into some hard angst here, so heed the trigger warnings and make sure you're safe when reading, this explores an on the page suicide attempt and subsequent recovery. In the wake of his mistakes and struggling with Chris' absence, Eddie's mental health rapidly declines. Buck and Tommy are there to catch him and offer a safe space to land. Not sugarcoated, this is crunchy and painful to read at times, but the love shines through, and though it's not a simple or easy journey, Eddie finds the support he needs to let professionals help him.

With a Friend in the Dark by Uncertainty_Principle and apparently I was in an angsty mood whilst fighting off this stupid cold because I also really loved this S3 post lawsuit, nobody is speaking to him, 'what if Buck found out his clots were lukemia' fic. Poor Buck just can't get the words out when he needs them, stuck in a miscommunication nightmare, and with a childhood secret about to blow up in his face. Maddie and Chim step in and soon the 118 realise just what the price is of holding on to anger. Just so much emotional whiplash. Whilst part one is complete, the follow up fic is a wip in progress now!

Maybe We're Strong by @ponyregrets finally it's time for some buddie meets The Good Place crossover fic, in which Bobby is Michael and Buck and Eddie are trying to figure out how they ended up in the good place when they've barely even lived their lives yet, Eddie's still in the army and Buck has been travelling but was thinking about maybe being a firefighter. Putting the firefam in this dynamic just works so well!

[oksana-moods]

Queens of Promise - Final Part

Summary: The journey is a work of art, they say. And if to grow one needs to bleed, then you certainly paid your price. 

A/N: Writing this part was one of the hardest things I’ve done. Nothing seemed fit, nothing seemed good enough for a Last Part. There were some feelings or emotions that I couldn’t quite grasp, unfortunately, so to give you this part without stalling any further, I decided to move on with what I had. Hope you guys like it. Thank you to the ones who stayed or kept asking for the end of this story. Thank you everyone who spared a time of your life to read my work. And to the ones who shared some love, thank you.

As always, it means the world to me. 

Previous Parts here

Warnings: Game of Thrones kind of violence, language. Mentions of blood and death.

“We were the Kings and Queens of promise We are the Queens”

Your limbs hurt, it feels like daggers are piercing through your skin with every step taken, yet you’re standing. It’s astounding.

Just like the people of Taharr, who gathered under the castle walls alongside the river shores from both sides. From your point of view they looked like ants, but there were more than thousands willing to pay their respects, their last courtesy to Queen Calanthe. The Strong Lioness.

The Lords, Ladies and other knights were allowed inside the castle walls and would attend the ceremony on the inner patio, the one with the river view.

However, you and a very selected few were in the winter garden, where there were statues of the former kings and queens, soon there would be one of Calanthe too. Too soon for your liking.

Many rivers grew or were born from a mountain of rocks, but the “Castle River” started from inside the boulders and rocks where Triskelion Castle was built in, its first appearance was, in fact, in the winter garden.

This spot of crystal clear water had a coffin boat on it, beautifully decorated with golden lionesses and adorned with chrysanthemums, your mother’s favorite flowers. They were simple - misunderstood she used to say, but they were always pretty.

Usually, the ceremony occurred on the seashore, at Pierce Coast, however, contemplating the attacks and the coup attempt, you had decided to stay and proceed with the burial in the capital, from the castle.

You knew how far you could shoot an arrow from this height and considering the winter garden stood close to fifty meters from the ground, would be a long shot. She deserved no less.

Three women covered from head to toe in full white gowns with golden lines forming some sort of pattern arrived at the garden where you stood and started to enchant their elder song.

It was always beautiful to watch, but the lines of the old druid poem touched a little too close this time.

The elder song was meant to guide the spirit to afterlife, the lines referred to the circle of life provided by the water. Every energy, every soul, everything was water. The flow of the universe.

You tried, but it was impossible not to share a tear or two as the last verse was sung. The song was about to end, your mother’s time as ruler was about to end. This was a reality that you did not want to acknowledge.

Your mother was gone.

And you were alone.

As the song ended, the men close to the boat looked at you expectantly, looking for your signal to release your mother on the river, to go down with the flow. As her boat was released, you tightened the grip around the bow on your hand.

Your knuckles hurt, but everything in you hurts, there’s nothing new.

You casted your eyes downwards, following the boat but also watching as the others knelt as it passed by, never stopping, the water flow was inexorable just as life was. 

It was painful, it was raw. It was true.

The seconds passed and your eyes burned just as your heart was, it was time for you to shoot your arrow in flames, only you couldn’t. After your shot, there was no turning back.

Maria, who stood several steps ahead, looked back at you. Even without words you knew what she meant. It was time. But you couldn’t.

She nodded, encouraging you to lift your useless arm and loose the arrow as you were supposed to. But you couldn’t.

You looked down at the fire pit in front of you, waiting to kiss your arrow and, as the flames danced, you blinked your tears away. Your hands were shaken.

“How can you shoot so far, mother?” The childish voice made the woman look down at you and she smiled that tender smile of hers.

“Practice, love.” She approached you with her bow, beautifully crafted and adorned with rubies, she extended it to you and encouraged you to hold it properly.

Now, standing right behind you, she commanded. “Take a deep breath and, as you do, pull the string with your other arm.” You did as you were told and she kind of guided, kind of corrected your movement. “Take your aim and release.”

Your movement faltered. “How do I aim, mother?” You heard a snort a second later after your question.

“Both eyes open, love. Choose your target and point the arrow at it, that’s your aim.” She instructed and guided your little hands. “Never lose sight of it. inhale, exhale, release.” Her voice was soft in your ear.

It was a little overwhelming. Only ten summers had passed for you, but your training was intensive. You wanted to play gobstones, wanted to play pass the ball, throw your hat, all the games the other kids were playing, yet, you couldn’t. Your free time was scarce as a breeze during summer. As a future ruler, you were supposed to train, study, observe, learn. There was no time for anything else.

“I can’t do this, momma.” You muttered after a second, for your arms got too stiff and shaken, you lowered them before you could loosen the arrow.

“Why not?” She inquired, never leaving her place behind you.

“My arms hurt. I’m terrible at this.” You confessed. From all the activities she requested for you to take, bow and arrow was the worst. You were the worst at it.

A second snort was heard and she squeezed your shoulder lightly. “Your arms will hurt if you overthink. Do it swiftly.” After a light tap on your chin, you turned your face to her. “And you’re not terrible, you’re afraid of failure. Don’t be.”

“What if I miss?” You blinked as she laughed lightly at your question.

“If you miss, you go and take another shot.” Her smile could light up the whole world. “Failing is to give up, so there’s no failing, as long as you try again. Be stubborn.”

At this, your face lit up like a tree during the summer festivals. “I can be stubborn!” You offered as if this was all that was missing in your life for you to accomplish your goals. Maybe it was.

With renewed interest and spirit, you turned to your target once more and pulled the string again, following her guidance as if it was a recipe.

“Don’t overthink.” She muttered behind your ear and hell, you heard her smile when you did as told. Your hand let go of the string and your eyes followed your arrow until it reached the target, almost a hand away from the bullseye, it wasn’t perfect, but you were content.

You could be stubborn.

A hand on your shoulder brought you back to reality and you blinked again at the arrow on your hand, begging for you to bathe it in flames and let it paint the blue sky.

“You can do this.” Carol Danvers smiled softly by your side and you clenched your jaw.

Taking a deep breath, your arm pulled the string until it reached your cheek and you could see the flame dancing on the tip of your arrow, the boat caught on your blurred vision.

Inhale. Exhale. Release.

Thousands of eyes followed as the arrow crossed the sky on that pale morning. As it flew, your heart hammered your ribcage.

You let out a low whistle when the arrow missed the boat and dived a foot away from the boat where your mother slowly and continuously flowed with the waters.

You had missed.

You had failed.

All of a sudden, you felt a light breeze hit your face and you sworn by all heavens that your nostrils were invaded by your mother’s perfume. Your lungs burned as chrysanthemums claimed the air around you.

Another light squeeze on your shoulder and, handling you another arrow, Danvers stubbornly said. “You can do this.”

Stubborn.

“I can be stubborn.” You muttered, doing the same thing you did seconds before. You lowered the point of the arrow on the fire pit and soon pulled the string until it touched your cheek again.

Inhale. Exhale. Release.

The people on the banks of the river resumed the chant started by the White Ladies as the boat was engulfed in flames. It was beautiful, it was disheartening.

As the boat sank, you retreated into the castle. Your steps were heavy, stiffy as if walking took a toll on you.

Your mother’s sun sank into the fate's waters.

Your sun had just begun its ascension.

– – –

The chill in the air could almost be touched. The Winter Garden was taken by a thick haze, yet you could still see what was in front of you.

The stone, carved to resemble the woman your mother once was, felt cold, probably colder than it should be, but you touched it, nonetheless.

Almost a moon had passed and the crafters worked non-stop until this memorial statue was ready, you were adamant that it should be before your coronation. And here you were, hours away from officially being crowned the new Queen of Taharr, in front of the last queen, seeking comfort.

“I never really gave much thought of how this would be,” You spoke to the stone, it remained immovable, as you knew it would. “But I never thought it’d be this hard.” 

Even with all the things you had to do after the last battle, known as the Battle of the Failed Coup, your head didn’t rest or stopped thinking about your mother. After a while, it became pretty common for you to speak out loud as if she was present and would engage the conversation. 

You were past the point of feeling silly, now it brought you a mild sense of comfort. It was odd, you knew, but one should work with what they got and if you had to go through your grieving, you’d do it your own way.

“How am I supposed to move on?” You asked but your words were engulfed by the fog and died in nothingness just like all the others. You felt so not ready for this, completely unprepared and the urgency only drove you a little bit closer to the brink of the edge of your sanity.

She would hate to see you stuck in the mud like you were, and you’re afraid you’re becoming everything you hate. However, day after day, the weight of your decisions and their aftermath sometimes felt a burden too heavy for your shoulders. And you hated to feel so incapable, so defeated. 

First, you thought you were listening to things, but then the unmistakable sound of shoes scraping the wet grass properly reached your ears and you knew you were not alone anymore, a person - not a ghost - was about to arrive where you were. 

“Thought I’d find you here.” Maria Rambeau's voice filled the silence after she stopped right behind you.

You ignored her choice of greeting and fired. “What have I done, Maria?” 

“I’m afraid I don’t follow, my queen.” The woman shifted, side walking to level her eyes with yours. You all but flinch at the measure, you’re still not prepared to be called the supreme ruler of Tahar. Still feeling undeserving of the title you’re supposed to bear. 

“All this time, all the lessons and I feel like it was all for nothing. She’s dead and that’s because of me. It’s all my fault.” There you were, digging deeper into the mud of remorse and guilt. You felt like a wreck, beyond repair. 

“If I may, I don’t see it that way, my lady.” Maria starts. “Queen Calanthe died a true queen’s death, fighting for her people feistily, as she always did.” She paused for a second to make sure you were listening. “Your mistakes or even Loki’s betrayal can’t and won’t diminish the importance of her sacrifice, of her strength.”

Her hands pointed to the castle you were standing on, as to emphasize her next words. “The enemy had us in a chokehold, yet Triskelion resisted, she endured and Taharr prevailed. There will be so many songs about this feature, my lady.” 

“What will I do with songs?” You retorted like a petty child.  

“Revel in them! For she’ll always be alive, in every ballad sang from a bard and in our hearts. In your heart.” She replied without missing a beat, adamant in making her point of view crystal clear.

“And now?” You inquired. Unsure to whom, if to the wind, to your friend or to the memory of your mother, you did not know. “There was so much to learn. There’s a whole kingdom waiting for me to guide them but I feel so lost.

“I don’t know if I should gather the army and seek revenge or if I should prepare for winter and reinforce the borders.” You continued your rant. “If I should reunite with the other kings to hold Hydrarr’s plans or if I should just stand here, waiting.” You balled your fists, irritated with one of the feelings inside your heart. 

Being indecisive wasn’t a trait usually associated with you. Before, you’d say that is best to ask forgiveness than living a lifetime wondering what could have been. Before, you had your mind made up and set with a plan. Before, if things went wrong, you’d just go with the flow. 

That was before. 

“There are so many decisions, so many lives depending on me and said decisions. I feel like I’m crushing with the burden and crushing even further with each passing second.” You finish, now looking back to the stone, jaw clenched. 

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown.” Maria interjected. “I used to say these words to your mother and it is only fitting to keep saying it, because it’s still the truth.” 

Her words made you avert your eyes to your friend and there were so many thoughts running in your head, that it seemed difficult to organize or even prioritize given there was so much to be done.

Deciding on taking one step at a time, you shot. “Maria, remember that promise that you made me that you’d comply with everything I said after I became queen?” 

“Of course I do, my queen.” Maria smiled softly. “Is this the moment where I pledge to follow every single command of yours, no matter how silly they are?” She humored, not really knowing why the hell you brought this up. 

“No.” You turned back and looked at her. Your tone was so serious that you can see her forehead frowning. “I want you to be you. I want you to be my conscience… Would you do the honor of serving Taharr as High Advisor?” 

She’s taken back by your bluntness. This wasn’t small, actually, you were asking a lot of her but giving just as much. It was the second most powerful position in this Kingdom, losing only, of course, to the queen herself. “M-My queen? Are you sure?” 

“I am.” Few times in your life you felt that sure. 

She’s speechless for a moment. Perhaps trying to read the catch on your request, maybe weighing her options. 

“I won’t take shit from you if you try to play the queen card on me. If you want me to step in as Advisor, I want my voice to be heard and I don’t want blindspots.” Her face was devoid of that humor from seconds ago. She meant business and if you wanted her to take this job, there would be conditions. She wouldn’t pose as a mannequin    

“Deal.” You offered your hand for her to shake and seal the offer. “That’s exactly why I need you. I want to be as good as my mother was, and to do that I need someone to keep me on my toes.” You sighed, now deflated. “There’s no one else here to do that.”

“You are good.” She intervened. “You’re worried about the right things, everyone makes mistakes.” Maria squeezed your shoulder affectionately, trying to pull you back from the sorrow abyss you were floundering in. “We just have to learn how to pick ourselves up now. We’ll do this together.”

You nod, but let her words simmer through your head while you take a few steps until the edge of the Garden, where you could see the city below. The sun had only started to rise and the fog was slowly dissipating around you or the city. 

“Learn.” You try the word in your mouth as if a wine for you to taste. You had learnt so much in this past year. Hate. Love. Fear. Heartbreak. Grief.  

“Can I ask you something personal, Maria?” You asked, briefly glancing at your friend then looking back down, to the small buildings bathing on the first light of the day. Maria barely nodded her head to signal for you to go on, then you fired. “How did you know Carol was the one?

She remained silent for a few seconds, looking down, you knew she had heard you, for this was her telltale that her brain was working on an answer. “Do you remember when your mother created the High Guard?”

“She asked for the mightest and greatest knights from every village in Taharr. It didn’t matter their status. First it was a tournament, then the best were selected so you’d fight against each other until only the best kept standing.” You remembered, despite being relatively young. It lasted for weeks and you were mesmerized by many warriors displaying incredible techniques and skills.  

“Exactly. Carol and I were from different villages, so the tournament was the reason why we met and she challenged me in every possible way.” Maria began, eyes flashing with memories of a brilliant past, if the smile on her lips said anything. 

“In the tournament she was my rival, but after, at the sparring turns, she came with everything she had. She was marvelous indeed: strong, fast, powerful, yet, I could always find a way to counter her attacks.

“We kept our little competition, even after the tournament, even after we were both granted our current titles for bravery and skill set, but there had always been this pull between us, you know?

“I’d both hate and love that smile of hers and she later confessed she both hated and loved my bossy face. When she finally let her guard down, I saw the woman behind the title, behind the Marvelous and she was beautiful - I simply knew Carol was my person.”

You nod as if to thank her for her explanation while you stood there contemplating her words and their meaning. Eyes still cast down, you’re able to discern some dots that you knew were people, moving around the streets starting, preparing for another day. Completely unaware of your inner queries. 

“May I ask why you wonder, my queen?” Perhaps not only your citizens were unaware of the doubts clawing your guts. 

“I-.” You sighed, unsure of what words to use in an attempt to explain the turmoil in your head and chest concerning a certain princess that has already been spoken for. “I thought Wanda was the one.” You felt stupid for still giving thought to a woman who misled you. “For me.” 

Out of a sudden, you felt your back hurt again due the burden pressuring you as if to remind you of where your focus should be. It was not the time to think about Wanda. 

And speaking of hurt, you stared at the burnt mark on your hand, a last minute gift from your pal Lord Vision, as punishment for your audacity of touching Wanda in a way you were not supposed to. 

“For the first time in my life, I let myself be vulnerable and she did the same.” Your eyes met concerned obsidian orbs intently looking at you. “I swear she did and she showed me how wonderful she was on the inside.” 

Fidgeting with your hands and the hem of your tunic, you continued, eyes cast once more on the people moving on with their lives. The way you couldn’t. “There were so many flaws, Maria, fears… I loved that Wanda no one else knew.” 

A sad smile now adorned your lips. “And I hate to know she played me like a doll in a sick game. I hate to understand that I was just stupid for falling in love and believing that she loved me back.”

“You shouldn’t think that way, dear.” Turning to look at her again, you could see her eyes were soft, but there wasn’t a single trace of pity. “What your heart felt was your truth. I, myself, had a hard time believing that Princess Wanda was capable of something like this. But if she deceived you, that’s on her. She’s the one losing.” 

Her lips twitched a little, trying to give way to a small but sincere smile. “You are a wonderful person and whoever you choose to be your queen will be the luckiest woman for sure.”

You narrowed your eyes a little. Maria wasn’t one known for throwing compliments at the wind for no reason. With a slight smirk, you asked. “Are you saying this because you’re my friend?” 

She gasped, offended. “Of course not!” Then, the lines in her face turned a little less grave. “I’m telling you this because you are the Queen, my boss. Why else would I lie?” 

At her words, a laugh erupted from your chest as if a bubble wanted to set free. Your whole body shook and you could see hers did as well. 

For some reason, after this unexpected section of laughter, you felt a little less burdened, it was just tiny, but you felt a little bit lighter. 

As the laugh died down, she elbowed you lightly and called. “Come. There’s a coronation for you to get prepared for.” 

Wordlessly, you started to follow her, casually walking towards your chambers. Before your mind could travel to an unwanted, dark place of sorrow or worry, Maria’s voice found you again. 

“Have you heard your friend Aria Stark is here for your ceremony?” She never gave you the time to reply, for she completed her own thoughts. “And that her sister, aka your ex-fiancé, Queen Sansa, came as well?” 

“Oh.” It was all that you could mutter. You knew Aria should arrive soon, for she sent you a raven when she heard the news. Funny how a powerful friendship developed after you stumbled on a lost grieving girl in Braavos. 

But you were specially surprised by Sansa’s presence, you supposed she wouldn’t want anything to do with you after you, politely, declined her proposal offer. 

“‘Oh’” Maria mocked your tone. “I swear, you and your redheads.” 

– – – 

The raging storm knocked at the walls mercilessly, the thunder shook the whole castle as the lightning flashed the room alit every now and then. The fire in the fireplace danced erratically and you were surprised it still continued alive despite the wind making force through the cracks of the windows.

Staring at the cup of wine in your hand, you thought that maybe the weather was just mirroring the feelings in your chest. The taste of the wine faded from your tongue, but you could still taste Wanda’s love on your very lips. 

It was amazing, actually, how you could all but remember your time with her when confined in your chambers alone. If not sad, it would be mesmerizing the way you missed her lips and not even the strongest alcohol could numb it in your skin, in your mind or heart.

You wished you could escape the assault of memories and tender moments together, however, all you seemed to be capable of was to stumble on the ashes of your once upon a time with the northern princess. 

So much for your happy ending. 

Heavy knocks on the door broke your miserable daze and you cursed them, and entertained the idea of asking for their head on a spike for interrupting your sulking, but you assumed it’d be Maria. It would be more likely for her to have your head in one. 

Without waiting for your response, you were proven right, when she barged into the room as if she had run for miles. Her rapid breath made you anxious, for she hadn’t given you a single clue as to why she was so nervous and breathless. 

“My Queen, you won’t believe-.” She paused for air, but you hated the drama she created. There were thousands of things you wouldn’t believe in, but they were all running through your head. 

You wouldn’t believe it, but you entertained the idea of a dragon rampaging your realm. Or about flying whales passing above the city, with this storm, who could say?! Perhaps the Kree or Skrulls had organized and orchestrated a secret invasion and the city was doomed. Highly unlikely, but what if the same iced zombies that infected Westeros came to Noveria? After all, no one really knows what happens in Vormir. 

“My Queen-” She resumed, putting your imagination to rest. “Barton is here, alive. And the Black Widow is here with him.” Her eyes portrayed nothing, and you did hear the second part. Lady Natasha, your enemy’s loyalist was in your castle, the nerve. 

But you chose to focus on the first part, for lately, good news was just scarce as the leaves during winter. Your beloved friend, the one that taught you so much, the very one you thought you had lost - just another casualty to your naivety and recklessness, was back and alive. 

At least this was definitely good news and yeah, this was something you couldn’t believe in. 

You started to move around your room, gathering the minimum of clothes to be presentable before your subjects and you thought how much you have changed, a few months ago and you wouldn’t have minded if you were half naked. 

As you approached your closet, you barked at Maria. “Take Clint and Romanoff to the Great Hall. Call the cooks and bring whatever they can prepare this fast and get a barrel of our finest wine.” The High Advisor nodded and started to leave the room, but stopped when you spoke once more. 

“And for fuck’s sake send a word to Lady Laura, immediately.” A sharp nod and she fled to comply with your orders. 

The fire cracked calmly in the fireplace, giving the foolish idea that everything was calm despite the thunderstorm raging against the walls, despite the storm increasing inside your chest.

As soon as you entered, you spotted three figures standing, close to the fireplace - Maria, Carol and Sam. And another two figures seated at the table, one in front of another, eating rather fast - they were starving. 

The quietness of the Hall was violently interrupted by your heels clacking against the marble floor as you marched towards the people gathered and saw their heads rising from their meals to look at you. 

Even a few meters away, you saw Clint limping from his chair and sunk his knees on the floor, looking directly at your eyes. “My Queen.” The weight of his eyes and tone showed you his grief, his – your ruefulness. 

Before your hand could touch his shoulder, you saw Natasha Romanoff also kneeling slightly behind Clint, eyes cast on the floor and voiced. “Queen Lioness, my condolences.” The action surprises you, surely, but you’re mostly stunned because of her tone. 

It almost seemed that she meanted what she had just said, that she was indeed sad about your mother’s death, even though her Kingdom, her army, was responsible for this fact. 

Confused, you nodded. Then, resumed your previous action and pulled Clint by his shoulders, so he could get to his feet, and hugged him. 

“I thought you were dead.” You confided, voice as far from a queen’s as possible, twice as weak. “I’m so glad you’re not.” 

He returned your embrace just as tight. You knew what you had suffered, only the gods could know what this man had endured. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it faster.” And by his words you knew he blamed himself for not being here during the battle, the coup attempt. Or the burial. He, too, blamed himself for Queen Calanthe’s death. 

“You’re here now.” You patted his cheek and gave him a weak smile. You meant your words, but it still hurt, you wouldn’t deny it. 

Taking a deep breath to help you fall into the character you were supposed to play, you raised your chin slightly and directed a hard glare at Natasha, with a matching hard tone directed at Clint. “Now you want to explain why there is an enemy, a Sokovian no less, still breathing inside my castle?” 

– – – 

“You’re lying.” You hissed, for the thousandth time. You just couldn’t believe what they, especially Natasha, were trying to say to you. 

“Why would I lie?” She asked, tiredly, arms crossed in her chest. You amused the idea of putting her in chains, to make her understand her position, you even entertained the idea of taking her to her room, a cell in the dungeons, to retribute the hospitality. 

But in the end, you gave in after Barton pledged on your friendship’s name for you to listen to them, to the both of them. The only problem is that they were suggesting absurd things to a very jaded woman. 

“Oh.” You mocked confusion. “Why would a Sokovian lie, Romanoff?” You shot back venomously. “You’ve been lying this whole time! I don’t even know your reasons anymore!” At this, you threw the decorated invitation you had received earlier at the table. 

The marks of burnt and crinkles of a parchment recently crumbled in a paper ball were visible, but also visible was its content. Without even trying to hide your disgust, you started to spat the words engraved not only in the paper, but also in your mind.

“Prince Vision, heir of Hydrarr, son of Red Skull, proudly announces his marriage to Princess Wanda Maximoff, heir of Sokovia, daughter of King Django and Queen Marya Maximoff, with the blessings of King Pietro, who announces his retirement due critical illness. The ceremony will be due in two moons. This invitation is extended to the friendly realms to Sokovia.”

Taharr wasn’t, obviously, a friendly realm to Sokovia. This was probably Vision’s way of taking an opportunity of messing with your head a little further. Or, perhaps, this could be Wanda’s doing. Who knew?

Whoever sent this, did on the sole purpose of fucking with you. And they succeeded. 

Maria, Carol and Sam gasped at your words, they were just as shocked as you were. You knew about the marriage, it hurt like hell to see a confirmation, but you were completely in the dark about Lord Vision’s - now Prince Vision - origins. 

Not to mention the news about Pietro’s retirement, since when does a King or Queen retire? All the ones you knew died and their rest would be in the afterlife. What the fuck was going on?

A more rational part of your brain understood the geopolitics involved in this marriage: Hydrarr and Sokovia would become one united Kingdom, with its forces and ruthlessness combined, who knew where they’d stop? With King Pietro’s retirement, Wanda and Vision would, respectively, become Queen and King of the combined territory. 

With a start, you realized the only ones who did not bore impressed looks were Clint and Natasha. They already knew about this. And, for a split second, you almost doubted your friend. Almost. 

“And that’s a coup.” Clint pointed at the paper while the Black Widow simply wrinkled her nose as if the parchment had a bad smell. “A very well orchestrated one, might I add. They’re overthrowing Pietro.” 

Your eyes darted back to him and he continued. “I told you, Lord Vision has been contaminating Sokovia for years. Day after day, he’s working to make it more Hydrarr’s. And with this marriage? He’ll achieve it.” 

“Harv Krickitt told you this?” You asked about the man, the jeweler, who crafted the piece of jewel the Black Widow assigned to kill you had received as payment. Barely a year has passed, but it felt so, so long ago, almost another life. 

Remembering that day, that night, your eyes were hard and jaw so clenched it hurt, still, a pale contrast to the pain brought by the memories dancing behind your eyes. 

“Kricket told us Vision was the one to ask for the necklace, with the lioness’ pendant. But he was asked to deliver it to Barnes’ care.” Natasha answered, voice as if made of stone. “He killed Steve during the attack. Those men, that day? They were a Hydrarr unit, a cover up.”

“As everything so far, my queen, this was a set up.” Clint completed. And you laughed at the absurd image they were trying to paint. Inwardly. Outside it looked more like a snort that could very well be mistaken with a choke.

“You want me to believe that Pietro, that Wanda,” Your voice failed, it’s been months since you last spoke her name out loud. You tried not to show any weaknesses, but your heart still skipped a beat and you hated it. “-had nothing to do with this?” 

“Precisely.” His words were unwavering. He was certain and you seriously wondered how badly your friend had been compromised. 

If you were the older you, this thought wouldn’t have even popped into your head, because it'd be straight away unfathomable, but the older you died after facing the treason of people so dear to you. Wanda’s betrayal was a stab in the guts, for sure, but Loki’s? It killed your heart. 

So, who could blame you for asking? 

“Did you turn?” Your tone was flat, devoid of emotion. 

Across the room, your peripheral sight caught heads snapping at you or even the sound of an intake of a good amount of air. The other occupants of this room judged you had gone too far on your assumption and that this was not what someone with Clint’s reputation should hear upon returning home. 

But you didn’t care that this could offend him or even if you were calling him traitor right on his face, you were the queen, weren’t you? You were entitled to. 

To his credit, Lord Barton didn’t even flinch at your question, his voice, still unwavering. “I would never!”

Your eyes searched for his, scrutinized his soul looking for any sign of deceit but you found nothing. He was speaking the truth. 

Nodding as to show you accepted his answer, you resumed the conversation. “What are you suggesting?” 

“Vision has the Maximoff twins in a hook.” He fired back without wasting a second, if you were willing to hear him, there was no time to waste. And, as if on cue, Natasha expanded the idea started by Clint. 

“Pietro is ill, that part is true, but Vision is threatening Wanda’s life if he does not step back.” This sentence ignited a fire in your whole being, even though you didn’t know what to believe. If all of this is true or not, it didn’t matter, the idea of someone hurting Wanda made you very angry. “And Wanda has to marry Vision, otherwise he’ll kill Pietro.” 

Your head snapped at the redhead seated in front of you so fast it felt like a whiplash, at the same time, your heart rate skyrocketed to the moon. 

“You mean she hadn’t agreed with this marriage on her own?” You carefully chose your next words, you wanted to make sure your ears and your brain were not playing games with you. “Are you telling me that she won’t marry him because she wants, but obliged to keep her brother safe?” 

“I am.” Her confirmation blew the air out of your lungs. 

Alarmed, you got off your seat and retreated to the fireplace, which still cracked, unbothered by the revelations these walls have just witnessed. You tried to remind yourself to keep breathing, because these past minutes were beyond intense. 

Your head was still trying to wrap itself around the proposition the spies were presenting to you and, at the same time, your heart was trying to grasp the meaning behind these implications. 

Wanda was about to marry a man because of her duty to her brother, to protect the last blood attachment she has with her family. And if she was forced to marry him, if Pietro was not involved, then could this mean-? 

“Wanda would never betray you, My Queen.” Clint’s voice reached your ears as if he spoke from miles away, but he knew how fast your head and heart were running, he knew what sort of questions plagued your mind. “She was devastated, went berserk after she found the house you shared empty.” 

Contradictory emotions clashed on your chest and you didn’t even know what those emotions were, for there were so many. And just like that, you didn’t know what to think or what to make out of this. 

For so long, you believed and were led to believe that Wanda had participated, organized this ploy like a brilliant sociopath. You blamed her for your suffering, you hated her and called names in the confines of your room at night while tears ran free down your cheek. 

You cursed the feeling she made you feel and now someone dares to say otherwise. Someone dares to say you got it all wrong, that you were lied to and the woman you loved had nothing to do with this? 

“This is profanity.” You whispered, but somehow Clint heard, despite the heavy rain outside. 

“I’m not lying.” He confirmed, as if this was all that you needed to accept this plot twist. 

“You can’t possibly think that I’ll believe this, Clint. I was put through hell.” You cried, disregarding the others still present, you didn’t care if they saw you weak right now. This wasn’t news to them after all.

Without a word, Natasha pulled something from her battered purse and you were about to turn away again when she opened her hand, palm flat upwards, offering you its content. Your eyes narrowed due the feeble light, tiredness and to try and keep the tears from falling. 

“Wanda gave me this.” The Black Widow spoke solely to you, for she knew the others didn’t know what was in her hand nor its meaning. “She said you would understand-” And by the looks of it, Natasha herself didn’t really know what was the meaning of what she was carrying either. “and I quote ‘It’s impossible to hold back the wind”. 

It was dirty, but with a step or two you could very well distinguish the trace and pattern of a tied knot in a rope, it was unmistakable that it was the same piece of Aberdeen rope you had given Wanda in what felt like a lifetime ago. 

The memory, though, surfaced as if it was yesterday. 

Wanda watched as you absentmindedly ran a hand through your hair. “Why do I feel so tied to you?” She wondered out loud, after you settled down close to her at the cushions sprawled on the floor.

“I don’t know.” You smiled softly, offering her a cup of tea. “But if it makes you feel better, I feel just the same.” You countered and she smiled away. 

It was unclear if your answer had pleased her or not. Sometimes you felt as though you knew Wanda like the palm of your hand and others, just like now, it was as if she was a stranger that had just arrived in the room. 

Sometimes it was impossible to decipher her silence. 

After a while, she turned to you with a bittersweet smile gracing her heavenly lips. “Do you think this will last forever?”  

You were touched, paralyzed even, for you didn’t really know what she specifically meant with ‘this’. It could be the feeling of being tied or the tie itself - conversations like these with Wanda were like treading on thin ice or holding on a breakable thread. So you remained muted, waiting for further context. 

“Forever. Don’t you think this is such a strange concept?” She chuckled humorlessly. “Forever doesn’t even exist, if we think about it.” She rambled with brows furrowed. 

“Forever could last a lifetime.” You tried tentatively, still unsure of where this conversation was heading to. 

“Forever could last a whole minute.” She retaliated without missing a beat. She wasn’t even looking at you anymore, but to a fix point at the wall as if it could show her the future if she stared at it for long enough. 

“You don’t know how long your forever will last.” Now, your brows were also crinkled only your eyes were cast on the mug nested on your hands. “No one knows.” 

“What do people do, then?” You looked at her, but her inquiry seemed genuine. 

You laughed at the absurd. You had no clue about what they do with their forevers. To be honest, you didn’t know anything about this. “I don’t know. I guess, they live the best they can, nonetheless?” You supplied. 

It was so strange, because during your whole life you’ve learnt a lot of things, but no one stopped even a second to explain to you what it was to like someone. To love someone. The ‘what to dos’ and the ‘hows’ were completely overlooked as you grew up. 

Tilting your head up, as if the sky could be of any help, your eyes caught sight of a rope loosely tied to the canopy, it wasn’t big, but you took a piece with your knife and expertly started to knot it down, your skills from your time as sailor showing off, and you were highly aware of Wanda’s eyes focused on you.

You pulled the tip of the rope from both sides but the knot remained untouched, the tie was still perfectly strong, as if made of stone. Then, you offered it to her, heart pounding in your chest as if you were handing her your own heart on a silver plate. 

She took it in her hands with a tenderness yet unseen, as if it was made of glass. “This tie could last forever.” Though you pointed to the piece of rope in Wanda’s hands, you both knew what tie you meant with your words. You just hoped she wouldn’t freak out with your naive, yet brave attempt to wish for impossible things. 

You were completely conscious that a future with Wanda was highly improbable. Still, you couldn’t help but dream that the two of you would find a way and make it work. Somehow.

“Can we stop this?” She asked, but this time she stressed the last words of her sentence and moved her hand between the two of you. This time, she was crystal clear about what she meant. 

“It’d be like holding back the wind.”

You touched it with a gentleness that no one in the room judged you’d possess. It burst a fire in your chest and it was getting harder and harder to hold back the emotion slipping through the cracks of your heart. 

It was impossible to ignore the hammering thoughts shooting through your head and there were so many, so loud that you thought you’d go crazy. 

This piece of fabric meant nothing and everything at the same time. 

“I need to think.” Without another word, your fingers closed around the material and your feet stormed out of the room to collect yourself in your own chambers, so you could ruminate about the implications laid upon you this night. 

— — 

“Stop this wedding!” Lady Danvers’ voice resonated throughout the Hall. “I’ve got an objection.” She looked sheepishly to the side and revealed a sly smirk and whispered for only you and her own wife to hear. “I always wanted to say this.” 

If the moment wasn’t so daunting, you’d probably laugh or retort some snide remark, but your eyes were solely focused on the woman dressed in white in front of the makeshift altar prepared for the occasion. 

There were shocked murmurs, metal clanging against metal, for you dragged the fight from the inner gates into the main hall of the castle, where the wedding was taking place. There were voices speaking, screaming words devoid of any meaning, for your ears ignored any and all of them. 

Her eyes were locked on yours and your knees felt weak; she was a sight to behold and worship. Like a true goddess, Wanda Maximoff’s dress made her look ethereal, as if she was sent from another dimension to cleanse this Earth’s sins and her eyes cast on yours burn with something you couldn’t know.

The contrast of white and red, from her auburn hair cascading down her shoulders, was mesmerizing and it only made it difficult for you to think coherently. For a whole second you forgot where you were and what you should be doing. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Vision shot his hand to his sword, but with one look he realized he was outnumbered. 

A sly smirk crossed your lips, tongue as sharp as usual. “Well, you did send me the invitation, have you not?” With a start, you realized that your sarcastic self hadn’t vanished for good. 

You could make anyone mad with only a couple of words. And, oh, Prince Vision red with anger was one of your favorite sports. Just like he was. 

“You’re invading my castle!” His voice boomed throughout the room, in a futile attempt to intimidate and stop your advance. Poor him. 

“Last time I checked this was Maximoff’s.” You provoked, walking towards his direction, with the conviction that his goons would know better than to come your way. You were a woman on a mission and they wouldn’t stand a chance. 

In fact, there weren’t many goons available anymore. Rumlow was dead after all, and Natasha had her dagger dangerously close to Bucky’s throat rendering him immovable. And the others… Well, they wouldn’t dare to cross paths with you right now. 

Drawing his sword, Vision took one step towards you, but you could see that this action was just an automatic response, for his eyes darting around told you his head was running all the possible outcomes and, more importantly, how he’d get away from this. 

He wouldn’t. 

You were adamant in making him pay for every single word, or minute he made you suffer. For every lie, every single action and all the blood shared that he was responsible for. Especially your mother’s. Oh, you’d make sure he’d pay. 

“One shouldn’t draw a sword if not ready to bathe in blood.” Your words were marked by each step you took, hand with a tight grip on your own sword. To be honest, it looked like he wanted to try his chances with jumping from the window instead of facing you, but you had cornered him now. 

“You think I won’t kill you?” He threatened, lifting his sword so it’d be between you. Perhaps in his head this could make you stop.

It wouldn’t. 

“Will you try it by yourself or will you ask someone else to do what you can’t?” You jabbed back, but remained immovable only a few steps away from him. You were ready to take matters into your own hands, you were ready to go to hell and back. 

However you were a queen, threatening a prince under another king’s roof. Again, the older you, would be hands deep into Vision’s throat squeezing the life out of him, but your new version knew better. This was not your castle, nor your land. 

No matter how much this man had made you suffer, no matter how many crimes he committed to you and to your people. This was still Sokovia, another man’s realm, there were rules and you should step down on shedding blood at your will.

“You should surrender, Vision.” King Pietro rose to his feet, taking the cue from your pause. It was visible how this illness had an effect on him even though he was trying to be tough. 

The man, on the other hand, decided to ignore this modest warning and took another step, ready to clash his sword on yours, but before he could, another blade appeared under his chin, kissing the skin on his throat which made him stop in his tracks. 

Perhaps Wanda had that sword under her dress this whole time, perhaps she took from some random guard around her. In fact, it didn’t matter where that blade came from, because her intentions were clear and menace was evident in every inch of her being. 

“You’ll do what you were told.” Not that it was needed, but her eyes screamed danger. Vision could be many things, but he wasn’t crazy enough to ignore the threat underlining her words. “You’ll abide to the King’s order.” 

Visibly cornered and defeated, the prince dropped his sword and looked up with a sorrowful eye, ready to beg for one of the Maximoffs for mercy. 

“Take this idiot out of my face.” Pietro commanded no one in particular, not that he needed, and two guards pushed Prince Vision out of the hall, closely followed by Clint and Carol. They certainly would make sure he’d stay locked. 

By then, all the guards loyal to Vision or Hydrarr were dead or arrested. It was the first part of the plan, designed in Triskelion: to take down Vision, they’d need to undermine his influence, take his minions to be able to weaken his power inside the castle.

The last part was the invasion itself and the dramatic wedding interruption.  

Your head was highly aware that you were needed to stop this plot orchestrated by Red Skull. After all, Taharr was one of the most powerful realms in Noveria, even though shaken, Triskelion was still a stronghold against enemies in this continent. Taharr was the only realm that could prevent this coup. 

No one else would be this effective, this fast or this invested. One could say that it was the smartest thing to do, that no other vengeance would be greater, but your heart hammered your ribcage looking at the redhead barely meters away from you. 

There was nothing else greater than the way she was looking at you. 

With a start, you didn’t know what to do now. All this time, you and your friends thought what needed to be done to stop the coup, your mind didn’t wander to the moment after it. Again, you were used to fighting, but what was expected to be done after the fight?

Even more, after those wonderful days in that cozy house, you’ve been running from her memories and the feelings she’d made you feel. You were clueless about what you and Wanda were - are. 

Suddenly, you felt a body colliding with yours and it took you a second to understand what was happening and you closed your arms around her. And, once more, it felt as though you had been locked out of heaven.  

The woman roamed her hands all over your body, your hair, assessing every single part to make sure you weren’t hurt. To make sure you were in one piece. When satisfied she rested it on both sides of your cheeks. Holding you in place. Eyes set on yours, centimeters away. 

“By the gods, please, don’t tell me you believe in him.” Her voice sounded strangled, as if trying to keep herself composed was a strenuous effort. 

“He was pretty convincing.” You replied without missing a beat. How could you think, when breathing her breath was so intoxicating? You were incapable of speaking something more elaborated and you knew she’d be upset with your answer, but Vision pulled quite the number. 

For a second, she said nothing. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on yours, letting her hands fall to your shoulder as yours instinctively found her waist. As if they belonged there, as if they have never left at all. 

When she opened her eyes, it was perfectly clear how sad she was. “I can’t even begin to imagine what he put you through.” They were so genuine that your heart clenched. “I’m so sorry. For everything.” She whispered the last part and it was hard for you not to kiss her right then and there. 

But you were a queen now and this was not your castle. You couldn��t just do whatever your heart desires. With a chaste kiss on her forehead, you disentangled yourself from her embrace and walked towards the limping form of King Pietro, only to realize Wanda had taken your hand on hers to hold as you walked. 

“Lioness, I apologize for everything Vision did and I condoned.” The man was weak, very different from the one you met in his dungeons. But he was still as regal as someone of his position should be. “I know it can’t be erased, but your presence will be appreciated during his trials.” 

Taking your nod as the only answer he’d receive, he turned to the crowd standing awkwardly in the hall, most of them without a single clue as to what had just transpired. Raising his voice, he said. “Now, I understand that there’s a feast to be served and I see no reason for us to starve.” Then, he turned to a maiden in sokovian’s colors and ordered. “Take half to the city and bring the rest for us, there’s an army to feed.” 

– – – 

You looked up to the sky and tried to spot any cloud but there was none. It was so impressive, because you swore you have never seen this shade of blue, it was as if the sky had been painted. 

Wanda had told you that this was a rare occurrence during winter, but it was a welcome change to the permanent gray, common for the colder season. Also, she said that if the blue showed up more than once in a week, then it meant that spring was slowly lurching towards Sokovia. 

It was the second time you were mesmerized by this impressive color and beauty. Surely spring was on its way. 

Ironic, you thought. 

‘I’ve learned to let myself get cut to always return whole with spring’. You felt as if you could hear your mother speaking these exact words to you. You felt as if you were a whole new person and somehow, these words made more sense now than ever. 

It had been a rough winter. Metaphorical and not. The weather proved to be a ruthless enemy, without mercy, it wiped the crops, farms and you thanked the gods for the crown’s reserve, so there was food enough to aid the whole kingdom. 

And, as a matter of speaking, your winter was just as hard. Funny to think you used to complain about all the training and study you had received when younger, because right now, you felt as though you should have been pushed harder. 

Mastering all weapons, learning numbers and languages, geography and geopolitics, religion and history, nothing really gave you the mere idea of how to bear the weight of a crown. The younger lioness couldn’t even grasp the importance or the challenges a ruler would experience. 

Granted, as the days passed by, you understood what you should do and knew what variables you were supposed to think of before making a decision. But nothing, and you do mean nothing, prepared you to understand that there is no right move. 

People will get hurt, people will suffer. No matter what you choose, there will always be consequences. The trick is to look for the lesser of two evils and accept what you can’t change. It was this trick that you struggled the most, though. 

It was ironic, indeed, how much you have grown after your trim. After your mother’s death, Loki’s betrayal and even Wanda’s, even though it was just another ruse, you had felt that, mourned that love, after all of these cuts and trims, you didn’t even know you could endure this much. 

Life took so much from you, yet, here you were. Still standing. 

Persevering. 

Just another irony, if someone asked you, because that's what Pietro had said to you earlier in the meeting: ‘Spring is life persevering after a long winter.’ And you agreed. 

Your philosophical moment was cut short with the arrival of no one other than Wanda. Her perfume announced her presence seconds before her hands found your back as she slid them until she was hugging you from behind. You snacked your arms around hers and closed your eyes for a moment, savoring her warmth, her scent, her company. 

Right after the wedding-stopping thing, you learnt that Wanda basically became your shadow. Wherever you went, she was probably following not far behind. Unconsciously, she was probably scared of losing you again if she let you out of her sight. 

And there was a shift in your relationship after the very much needed, long and exhaustive conversation about everything that transpired since that morning she left you in that house. Your point of view and hers. 

It was hard. She had cried and you had cried, it was obvious that she was blaming herself for basically everything you had suffered. It was unfair for her to think like this, but she was adamant. And you knew, deep down, she was sad you had doubted her. 

However, there was nothing that could be done on that matter. It was in the past. 

With a kiss on your cheek, she let go of your waist and stepped to the side so she could take a look at you. Basking in the sun like this, she felt as though you were an angel sent from above. 

You and your army saved her kingdom from certain doom. Funny, though, for Wanda never saw herself as a damsel in distress kind of princess, but her own and her people’s freedom was a gift, delivered by your hands. 

“Pietro said you wanted to talk to me?” She started, tilting her head to the side in evident curiosity. When you left her this morning after breakfast because you had a meeting with her brother, she was quite surprised. Not that you two didn’t bode well, but because she wasn’t invited. 

In fact, she was told to not interrupt. 

“Yes. Thank you for coming.” You said, turning your body so now you were facing her, the balcony serving as a body support. “I was wondering if you’d take me on that horse ride to see the waterfalls?” 

She smiled softly, her curious self giving way to the old Wanda who wouldn’t stop talking about the amazing waterfalls close to the castle. She thought about how endering you were right now, asking for her to fulfill a promise she never imagined would really become true. 

“Say no more.” She grabbed your hand and fled the room. Not long till you were each on a horseback, riding to one of her favorite places in the world. 

The ride to Ms Marvel waterfall was barely an hour long, but perpassing through fields, trees and the most beautiful sightseeing rivers. It was so pretty, so particular, that you felt as though you were walking inside Wanda’s memories, for she had described this place over and over. 

The moment you set foot on your destination, you realized how thoroughly Wanda had been when speaking about this place. Every single pebble, rock, grass and the magnificent waterfall was just as she painted with words. 

It was beautiful and magical. 

Despite the weather, you shed your clothes and jumped into the cristaline water, followed suit by the princess. The redhead, however, was far more used to the cold waters than you were, but you always liked cold baths. 

This one felt as though you were being cleansed. It was welcoming. 

As Wanda swum towards you, it was easy to see a soft smile gracing her lips and a predatory look on her eyes. Hair slick back due the water, some droplets covering her face and you wondered if she wasn’t a siren, trying to lure into unknown waters, to your demise. 

Somehow, her body was warm even though you were both chin deep into the waters and her embrace was something that you couldn’t find words to describe. And seeing this new side of her, so carefree, and not preoccupied with everything, made your heart soar in your chest. 

Surely, your relationship wasn’t exactly a secret, but it was plain to see that, right now, there were no worries about who could find out. You were not the enemy anymore, there was no war and there was no one targeting you. 

For Wanda, this was almost living her fairy tale dreams, right after emerging from her worst nightmares. First, she had lost you. She was a wreck after she realized she had not been as careful as she thought she was. 

It was no mystery to her who had taken you but much to her dismay, Vision had convinced Pietro that you were secretly invading Wolfgang, taking advantage of her innocence to demoralize his image and power. 

Wanda tried to explain to her brother, but to no avail for his mind was impregnated with lies and deceit. She tried to make Pietro understand that she loved you and though you had never used words, she pretty much knew you also had strong feelings for her, and you were definitely not using her as the Advisor had informed the king. 

It was all part of the plan. It was a mess. However, the final strike was yet his boldest. Vision pledged Wanda was impure and no one would want her as wife, but he could take this burden for the sake of their friendship. 

The nerve. 

Curious enough, things got worse when Pietro started to believe her. One day, he showed up at her door and was utterly embarrassed for not believing her, he then explained to her that he had talked to you and there were no reasons for him to think you were lying. 

Wanda’s heart broke all over, for she could only imagine how bad it must have been in the dungeons with the care of the likes of Vision and his loyalists. She was scared, she was hurt and she was desperate to set you free. 

She schemed a plan with Natasha and Clint for you to escape, but her brother fell ill, probably poisoned by Vision even though they could not prove it, and they became hostages too. On their own castle. Each of them had a sword on their throats, each of them were ready to lose everything in order to keep the other safe. 

Among all the other things, Wanda would lose the love of her life. 

“I know I never said this to you.” Your voice brought her head out of her reverie. It was even and melodic, she found herself smiling. “And I think this is so silly now, trying to mask my feelings.” She felt, more than heard you chuckling, even under the water, your whole body shook. “I love you, Wanda.” 

Her head snapped backwards so she could have a better look at your face. After all the time you spent together, she came to decipher whether you were mocking or not, yet, this voice, this tone was different. It was new altogether. 

You were older, wiser and sadlier too, she realized, you were not the Young Lioness anymore.  

“I mean it.” You finished, trying to convince her that you were not messing around. 

Realizing her lack of answer might have led you to believe she was searching your eyes for a lie, she shook her head and smiled softly. “I know.” She did believe you. She really knew, she really felt. 

You have told her, just not with words. 

You couldn’t help but lean in and capture her lips with yours. When Wanda was about to deepen the kiss, you pulled back and looked down in time to see a small pout and you smiled softly at her attitude. 

“There’s something else I want to talk to you about.” You ran your hand down her cheek, mesmerized with the perfection glued to your body. “Did Pietro say his plans for his future to you?” 

Despite the intimate moment, or position, Wanda felt a slight shift in your stance and certainly the topic of the conversation. Seconds ago you were talking about feelings and now you returned to politics. 

She didn’t not know what exactly you were talking about. Or what you really wanted to. But this question was just a preamble, that much she was certain. 

“That he desires to step down from the throne to look for treatment and healing?” She asked, head tilting to the side and she was so adorable wearing that confused look of hers that your heart skipped a beat. 

You only nodded and she asked. “Why?” 

For hours, you had been trying to think of the best form to ask her. Being blunt, straightforward as usual or perhaps with a romantic flourish, but in the end, anxiety took the best of you and you were not sure of how to do it. 

There were two Wandas. The one you were in love with, the simple woman with a heart, you usually knew what she’d do or say. But then, there was the feisty and strong princess, who will always think about her duty to her people before anything else. Even her own heart. 

And that woman? She could virtually say or do anything, she was indomable and you were irrevocably devoted to her.  

“I was thinking about what we always said…” You mentally kicked yourself for being so stupid and not knowing the right words. To be honest, you were afraid of her reply or even her decision. “About a time or place where we could simply be, where we’d have a choice.” 

A quirk of brow told you she did not understand what your words meant and you sighed heavily. Deciding to take the bandage off, you shot. “Wanda Maximoff, will you marry me?” 

She opened her mouth, but then the words hit her and you saw her eyes grasping their meaning as it sank in what you were asking. What you were really asking her. What you were really asking of her.

“How?” She asked, doubt written all over her face. 

For sure, you had hoped for an easy ‘yes’ even though you already knew it wouldn’t come. However, a how it was far better than a no.

A smart comeback made its way to your tongue, but you swallowed it down just as fast. “If you’ll step up as the new queen of Sokovia, why wouldn’t you as Novi Grad’s?” 

Her jaw dropped a few inches at your proposal and everything that would surely entail, regaining her composure after her stupor, she fired back. “Is this political?” 

She tried to disguise the hurt perpassing her being. She wanted you, but were you suggesting just a political maneuver?

“No.” You were quick to clarify. “I want to marry you because of what I feel for you. But I understand that this is not simple. Between the two of us, we can’t take one thing without the other.” 

For several seconds she looked at you and said nothing. Her eyes scrutinized every freckle, every inch of your face and eyes. You were so beautiful and she hated how much she loved you, how desperate she was for your touch. 

The possibility laid upon her was far too tempting. She was aware of her needs and duty and for a long time she wished she could split her heart from her responsibilities, but right then and there, this was her chance, your chance to finally combine both. 

It wouldn’t be needed to sever one thing from another, the both of you could take your place as required without breaking your hearts in the process. 

“Are you sure?” You were not convinced of what she was really asking. What should you be certain about? Your love, your offer or everything in between? 

“I’m sure of what I feel for you.” You replied and her eyes, once lost, finally focused on yours. A soft snort told you that this was not of her concern. Good. 

“I know, darling. I love you too, you know this already.” Her smile was soft but not more than her words. “I was just… Do you think we can reunite the realm?” She asked more directly this time and you understood her fears. 

The Golden Accords existed for a long time and there would be resistance, there would be fear, but there would also be reunion, there would be peace. And that was the very thread you were holding on. 

“In my humble opinion? You and I together can do anything.” Certainty coated every single word rolling out of your mouth and that made Wanda’s smile go wider. She always loved - after she had hated - your confidence. 

– – – 

If you squinted, her dress looked like a waterfall, cascading down her back, feet and beyond and Wanda, once more in full white, looked like a fallen angel. Her eyes, her smile… everything in her glowed brighter than a star. She was perfect. 

After your vows, Pietro took your hand and Wanda’s and laced it with a red piece of satin. It represented your bloods, your souls intertwining themselves, tying the eternal knot between your lives. 

Her smile was broad and you were certain it shone for miles, when Pietro spoke the last sentences of the ceremony. “I now present you the Queen of Taharr and Queen of Sokovia. All rise to the Queens of the Great Realm of Novi Grad.” 

The crowd was loud to the point you couldn’t even hear your own thoughts and you swore the earth shook when you leaned in and Wanda sealed your promise with a kiss. 

The promise of union, the promise of peace, prosperity and love. 

After all, you were the Queens of Promise.

taglist: @californianwhiterabbit, @cowxpoke

[lanymme]

On the eve of Lonetrail ending, I have some sad thoughts about preservation of media in this game.

The event is amazing. The effort and love put in to this story and all the little details is beyond me. I’m really glad that it’s gonna go straight into the Intermezzi so that anyone who picks up this game or missed the event gets to experience it.

But a big part of this event is going to be missing. The lobby, for one thing, is a huge part of the story’s lingering emotional power. The narrative touched my heart. It made me cry.

But what made me break down, what destroyed me, was finishing that final story segment and seeing this

Turn into this:

And just sitting there, full of pain and wonder and real, actual grief, reflecting on what had just happened as I sat there in the dark with my headphones on, totally immersed in the lonely and hopeful and Ad Astra, reframed by this new context into something that was also terribly and beautifully sad.

It didn’t fully comfort me. But it gave me the refuge to feel the things I needed to feel, drifting and alone.

Throughout the rest of the week, the little missions from the Investigation section helped me return to and slowly process my feelings, with little bits of additional story and context.

And each time I opened the event, that devastating splash of Kristen dunked me back into my emotions, to give them another go.

This is the only piece of art I’ve consumed that comes with its own aftercare and damn if I didn’t appreciate it.

I probably don’t need to explain this whole experience to you in detail, because y’all reading this have (hopefully) already played the event and experienced that for yourselves.

But people in the future playing this event are not gonna experience that aspect of this multimedia piece of art, because these parts of an event do not show up in the archive.

They won’t experience the guy saying “*A new age is upon us!*” getting replaced by the empty billows of space as Kristen’s pod drifts outside terra’s starpod.

You can probably find it, in recordings. But searching down something on the Internet to see what used to show up does not hit the same as getting greeted by the new intro and splash whenever you return to the event. You’ll be like “oh yeah I bet that was cool” and not “Oh, I’m not okay.” Or whatever your reaction to that piece of the art in its proper place would be.

I don’t really have much else to say on the matter.

I just think that’s sad.

[celestialjellii]

Insomnia is kicking my ass, so I wanna just word vomit about Marcille, and just Dungeon Meshi as a whole.

Spoilers for the Dungeon Meshi manga, and trigger warning for mentions of Suicide.

I find myself relating to Marcille in a lot of different ways. One of these way is her relationship with her dad. Ask any of my friends and they'll confirm that my dad was one of the most important people in my life. I lost him in 2020 to cancer; I got genuinely so emotional when I saw Marcille reminiscing about her dad to the others. And how she wishes she got more time with him

These kind of stories always seem to rewonate with me because I feel like my dad was taken from me too soon as well. Marcille's facial expression in the bottom panels is an expression I'm all too familiar with making. When talking about my dad (especially with people who never got the chance to meet him) its always really bittersweet. Its great because I'm able to talk about the greatest man I've ever known, but painful too because I know I'll never be able to talk to him again, be able to cry in his shoulders, be able to turn to him for help. And it hurts.

Theres also how Marcille views death inregards to herself, and her loved ones.

This part made me genuinely cry because, in a way, I know how it feels. While its not necessarily in regards to death (I have had some harsh deaths in my life, like my dad's passing, and two friends of mine taking their own lifes) I do know how painful it can be to say goodbye to people, which is how Kui expresses Marcille's fear of death in Dunmeshi. With Marcille's long life she's going to likely outlive everyone she loves and thus have to say goodbye to them. I also have had to say goodbye to people I didn't want to: be it because of death, ending a toxic friendship,or other reasons. I also just love this part because you can see how badly everything that transpired in that chapter affected her, after bringing everyone back her first instinct was to chew them all out for being so reckless, but when ahe finally verbalizes what had happened her emotions catch her, and all she can do is fall back against the wall and begin crying.

I also just love how immediate Laios and Senshi is to comfort, and apologize to her, as well as promising that they won't put her through that again.

I remember I was texting my friend Terra and we were joking about Marcille being my favourite because she's a "silly gay elf" but my love for Marcille can be summed up with "I came for the silly gay elf mage, but I stayed for the beautifully written character who struggles with issues that I frequently find myself struggling with.

Additionally I just love how Laios and the others talk Marcille downfrom the edge after she's become the master of the dungeon, it reminds me of all the times my friends have talked me down from my own edge (I love you guys 💖)

Marcille's sexuality is another thing I resonate with. I know that Kui never explicitly states anything, but as a queer person I had a hard time reading Marcille and Falin's relationship as anyother other than romantic, like, we've all seen horny Marcille's "whoa hey!" reaction to Chimera Falin tearing her own shirt off (honestly such a valid reaction from her), but the part that really got me was how tender and loving Marcille is with Falin after she's been resurrected.

My sexuality is something I've been struggling with a lot recently. A little over a year ago my boyfriend of nearly 8 years left me, and up until recently I was identifying as bisexual. However within the past few months I've found myself caring less and less for sex, and a strong desire for the roamntic aspects of a relationship, specifically with women. So seeing Marcille look at Falin with such adoration really resonated with me; I just really love their relationship.

This series is just so amazing, and it resonated with me in so many different ways from everything I've mentioned in this post about Marcille, to things like how Laios is such an amazing allegory for living with autism, to how Senshi has helped myself get a better, healthier relationship with food. Itw just an amazing series and easily in my top 5 anime/mangas.

That is all, I'm gonna try to get some sleep now, here have a dancing Marcille as thanks for reading.

[th3e-m4ng0]

my guy WHAT are you READING to cause you such pain like this??

Echoes of Messatine by MlleMusketeer on ao3 !!

it's painful it's funny it's so painful it's so painful every chapter is written beautifully, every emotion the characters experience is described in such a way that feels so real, I feel like I am not Reading about them feeling emotions but actively Watching and Feeling them feel it, idk how to describe it but I Feel It So Strongly, their happiness is my joy their fear my terror and their pain my pain too and boy does it Hurt

[best-underrated-anime]

Best Underrated Anime Group H Round 2: #H7 vs #H3

#H7: Isekai subversion, now with more women and good writing.

#H3: Two guys time-travel through photos. Depression ensues.

Details and poll under the cut!

#H7: The Executioner and Her Way of Life (Shokei Shoujo no Virgin Road)

Summary:

Average student Mitsuki Mutou suddenly finds himself transported to another realm. Summoned by the king of this world for the remarkable power he is supposed to possess, Mitsuki is thrown out when it appears that he lacks a Special Concept. Moping about, he encounters a priestess named Menou who explains that Japanese people like him are known as Lost Ones, and such individuals never fail to have Special Concepts.

Menou elaborates that she is part of a church that helps abandoned Lost Ones integrate into society. She invites him to spend the night at her church, where the two can probe the nature of his ability. Eventually, they discover that Mitsuki's Special Concept is actually incredibly powerful and dangerous.

But is Menou's true goal to assist Lost Ones—or the opposite?

Propaganda 1:

An isekai that forgoes the usual tropes and exceedingly dull, whitebread protagonist in favor of a cast consisting more or less exclusively of varying flavors of deranged lesbians.

As a bonus, a certain scene halfway through the first episode made a lot of the worst parts of the anime community SO mad, and I feel like that’s worth something in and of itself.

Propaganda 2:

An isekai subversion that doesn’t feel like it’s subversive for the sake of being trendy! All of its unique parts have lore to explain them, and the world building of the series is super intriguing. The power mechanics are well-thought-out, and the fighting is unique and beautifully animated! Another strong part is the character relationships; I love the various dynamics between the main cast, and I love how none of them are reduced to mere tropes, as anime loves to do with its women. It’s also very funny, and the protagonist is one of my favorites <3333

Trigger Warnings: Child Abuse, Graphic Depictions of Cruelty/Violence/Gore, Suicide. Suicide is basically a deuteragonist’s goal, but it isn’t shown.

#H3: Link Click (Shiguang Dailiren)

Summary:

Best friends, roommates, and business partners Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang run a photo studio, developing pictures and the like. But that’s not all they do. The Shiguang Photo Studio has a secret extra service—they can deliver messages you never got to send and find information you never got to learn, so long as you bring a photograph, or maybe several.

Their method? A clap of the hands, and Cheng Xiaoshi dives into the past and into the body of the photographer. Guided by Lu Guang, he has twelve hours to achieve his goal, whether that is finding a secret, saying goodbye, or winning a fight.

Assisted by their friend and landlady Qiao Ling, the duo navigates a gallery of corporate lies, interpersonal drama, old regrets, and crime. In the second season, threads that began in the first episode of season one continues, showcasing the same level of brilliant writing and even higher stakes for our beloved characters.

Propaganda:

“Past or future, just let them be” is a message that is repeated throughout the show. At first, you’d think it’s just a matter of course, but after enough times of hearing it, it becomes depressing.

How can Cheng Xiaoshi be indifferent when he can feel the emotions of the person he’s possessing? When their pain becomes his pain as well? And so what if the person before him is already dead? At this moment, their hands feel so warm and alive.

This is where Lu Guang comes in. While Cheng Xiaoshi is the empathic and reckless type, Lu Guang is the cold and rational type. They balance each other out, and when they have conflicts, they face it maturely. They also care for each other so so much that the moment the other is in danger, all their principles get thrown out the window just to ensure the other person’s safety.

In s1, we watch them take on their clients’ orders. Through this, the show’s beauty is revealed: Simplicity and Sincerity.

Simplicity, because for a time-travel show, you’d expect the tasks to involve the fate of the world or something, but no. All the people Cheng Xiaoshi have dived into have been your everyday person—an office woman who gets harassed at work, a restaurant owner who’s grown estranged from her best friend, a man who wants to gain the approval of his girlfriend’s family, etc. Even when the stakes go high in s2, the core of the conflicts still lie in the character’s personal problems—which may seem small in the grand scheme of things, but they are not any less important. And I think this is nice. It’s hard to relate to grand plots, but it’s easy to relate to the day-to-day struggles that humans face.

Then Sincerity, because every single character is treated with care. Even characters you’ll never see again past their arcs manage to be impactful and unforgettable. They’ll claw their way into your heart and just stay there. I’ve rewatched s1 three times, but I still cry every time it reaches the basketball arc 😭. Then in s2, even the antagonists will grab for their share of your tears.

And you begin to question—Should they really just let the past or future be? If changing the past could save someone, is it really that bad?

The answer revealed in the s2 finale was so shocking that #link click trended for the first time ever on Tumblr after the episode aired, which is a feat in itself, considering how small the fandom is.

It has great animation, too. I especially love the 360° shots in some key scenes in s2 for they really amped up the tension. The fight scenes are also well-choreographed.

And all the music are bangers! S1 opening makes you wanna learn finger tutting, while the s2 opening is a masterpiece that leaves you in awe. (The s2 second chorus is just the first chorus played in reverse, making it sound like time is being rewinded. Fucking genius!)

If you still don’t watch Link Click after reading this, then you’ll be missing out in one of the greatest animated shows of all time. Just do yourself a favor and watch it already.

Trigger Warnings:

S1: Flashing lights in the opening, attempted and implied sexual harassment, slight panic attack, death, kidnapping, drugging, suicide, blood. Complete list of TW’s for s1 can be found here (it may be spoilery)

S2: Fast-changing images in the opening, domestic abuse, child abuse, emotional abuse, violence, blood, murder.

When reblogging and adding your own propaganda, please tag me @best-underrated-anime so that I’ll be sure to see it.

If you want to criticize one of the shows above to give the one you’re rooting for an advantage, then do so constructively. I do not tolerate groundless hate or slander on this blog. If I catch you doing such a thing in the notes, be it in the tags or reblogs, I will block you.

Know one of the shows above and not satisfied with how it’s presented in this tournament? Just fill up this form, where you can submit revisions for taglines, propaganda, trigger warnings, and/or video.

[answer2jeff]

the fatherhood theory:

my take on lip gallagher finding purpose in parenthood.

First things first, I quickly want to congratulate the writers for beautifully articulating the accuracy of Lip's initial reaction to Freddy's birth.

Tami had an extremely complicated birth that resulted in her requiring surgery. Lip, both as a new father and as a boyfriend, was legitimately terrified. He couldn't decide if he should stay with Tami or their son. His thought process probably included the possibility of the mother of his child suffering, further trailing to the fear of fatherly absence. Naturally, considering Lip's lack of a genuine father figure, contributing anything remotely resembling neglect or failure to accommodate to his son feels like the worst and most unforgivable thing he could ever do.

Secondly, I want to say that although Tami is quite different compared to Lip's other love interests, I think she was relatively realistic at the time. She has drive and compassion, and Lip loves a good sarcastic girl who affectionately ridicules the guy she loves. She's abrasive in a way that is more meant to establish her intelligence rather than actually put others around her down. Tami is also terrible at accepting criticism, but doesn't respond in the explosive anger that Lip does. She's more passive aggressive than, well...aggressive aggressive. Even though it's not quite the healthiest, it's much more flexible than rage.

In short, Lip sees a lot of himself in Tami. But, she's a more put together, determined version of him. She's the star that Lip never really turned out to be, even if she's not absolutely perfect. Their relationship is accurate for the conditions of the show (and Lip's life.) Tami doesn't give Lip a lot of opportunities to self sabotage because she's pretty much dubbed herself the lead of their relationship.

(not ignoring the fact that she said he'd be a shitty father by the way. that crushed my soul and i'll never forgive her but that's besides the point.)

Having to decide to let professionals (doctors and nurses, who he notoriously does not trust (rooted by capitalistic healthcare environments and the need for independence due to his childhood trauma), try their best to help Tami when she was literally blue and unresponsive, was difficult and extremely scary.

However, once Freddy has been properly cleaned and prepared to be held by his father, Lip suddenly finds the answer to so many of his interpersonal questions.

"I seem to have ruined everything I was once good at. Is there anything I won't automatically ruin just because I don't think I deserve it?"

Fatherhood.

"Would I be any better at this than my parents were?"

Yes, with practice.

"Would I be able to break the cycle?"

Yes, with love.

"Is it necessary for me to feel so deeply about the world?

Yes. Even if it's painful.

"And was it ever worth hiding that with anger?"

To some extent, yes. You wanted to protect yourself.

"Am I, deep down, past my inevitable quickness to rage, a good person?"

Yes. You always have been.

In hindsight, his excitement for becoming a dad seems kind of obvious considering his overjoyed and emotional reaction. But I think we can dig deeper beyond this surface level impression. Even if it's genuine and ultimately very good at showing Lip's love for his son. Something that I think really prepared Lip for the complications of parenthood was the time period during his time as a college student taking care of Liam.

He'd been surrounded by family members for his entire life that he did not trust. When Fiona, his beacon of support throughout his whole childhoo despite their complicated sibling relationship, made such a grave mistake that reflected neglect, Lip felt unsafe. Both Frank and Monica were typical offenders of drug and alcohol abuse. And they regularly dabbled in allowing these substance issues to affect their children.

Now there was really nobody in his family he could trust. Lip would have to re-learn how to fend for himself and his family. He's had plenty of experience, but he had a support system. Even if it contained his own siblings who lived the same abusive life as he did. But now that he didn't trust anyone around Liam, he literally had to become his primary caregiver.

"You're the closest thing to a dad we've ever had," said Ian Gallagher.

Becoming Freddy's father was the love that Lip needed in his life. Girlfriends are replaceable. Lip has proven this. But he always believed that once you become a father, you do not have the right to back out. And he'd always hold himself to that standard.

This is your life now. Do it right, or go to hell.

People like Lip need to have people in their lives who unconditionally rely on them. His siblings have chosen many times (and rightfully of course) to handle personal matters without Lip's advice. He hasn't gotten to feel as needed or as important as he deserved to be. Having a child, though unexpected, was the missing piece to the endless puzzle that was his life's purpose.

Lip's desire to be a good father not only stemmed from the failure of his own parents, but the fact that guiding his siblings through life was the one thing that everyone around him that everyone was convinced he couldn't do better than anyone else. (Personally, I think Fiona did a great job as an older sister. I'm more speaking from the perspectives and opinions of his siblings.)

Lip will feel love for himself through Teddy. Once he can finally succeed for the long term, he will find peace.

Not to say that he's automatically perfect, because he's not (and no one else is), but he's ready to take on the challange.

Freddy is the love of Lip's life.

And he always will be.

[plutopitou]

◇ Crimson Comet

keigo takami | hawks x female reader

genre: nsfw smut, angstyyy

He comes and goes like a reoccurring comet in the sky that you admire. A constant game of push and pull; you’ll do anything for him to not leave you again. And Keigo just can’t say no to his pretty girl on her knees begging | 18+ MDNI

word count: 2.8k

warnings: he’s mean again haha but not really. Thigh/boot riding, smut, throat fucking, reader cries and is needy and desperate, dumbification :o angsty storyline- keigo has commitment issues

thank you guys so much for the response on my first post last week, hope you enjoy this one as well ♡

He almost makes it to the edge of the door before you pool yourself to the ground in front of him, falling like a tower of bricks. Tears are dripping faster than your heart down the sides of his boots, laminating the hard leather shoe, giving the moon an opportunity to reflect back at you from the chill of the open window. The ambiance overwhelming the room perfectly with your sorrowful fervor.

Whimpering, clutching on the thick fabric of his pants, so close you can smell the faint scent of linen and fresh air, air he glides through with ease; a comet in your sky.

You don’t want him to pass you by like the rest of them.

Past partners disappointing you to no end; consistently leaving you to the dust as if you never mattered and can’t give enough to satisfy when you gave them everything you had. Your heart pinches with the thought of him being a past memory, not wanting to let go as if he’ll immediately disappear. You will give every material item, every part of your body for his to own to just stay.

The winged hero is a very passionate person when he needs to be, when it’s short term. A type of skill that had to be learned. Feigning a type of emotion was almost easier than presenting it naturally, losing his real sense of zealousness many years ago.

However with you, he found his smiles to be something that did not come as a second thought. Finding himself feel a sense of accomplishment and joy whenever he saw the corners of your lip quirk up in laughter from his many quick-witted jokes. He knew from how quick his heart paced when he glazed his eyes down your withering body underneath him buzzing for more that you make him genuine.

He sees how much your eyes light up in excitement when he comes through the balcony, counting on him as if he was your boyfriend.

But he just loves to dangle the candle connected to your heart in front of you and tease snuffing it out just to see your face, his sadistic nature always coming to fruition. He just isn’t sure how long he can keep it up before he disappoints you, he is trying to do you a favor. The best thing is to abandon your purity before the stain can never come out.

And the truth being he is not your boyfriend. Someone that comes and goes for weeks at a time is not a partner, and it is reminded to Keigo every day. But you make it so hard for him to stay away when you beg like this.

The golden locked man doesn’t dare speak a word, eyes drooping in exhaustion watching you plead and beg for him to stay. A warzone in his soul fighting the threshold of satisfaction he gets from seeing you beg so beautifully below him with a twinge of pain in his heart that never goes unnoticed. Pushing your hair back he wants to see your face in its glory, looking up at him like a shrine, completely flushed out, tears flowing down swollen lips he would kill to fuck in this moment.

Rubbing his large, glove covered hand over your lustrous cheeks, thumb over your lips, Keigo wanted to let you down softly. “Sweet girl, you know I can’t do this anymore, we’ve been over this..” He can’t help but puff a soft sigh, not halfway finished before he watches the dam in your weary eyes spill over even more, digging your head in his hand trying to cover up your hiccups of sorrow.

You sit back on your calfs completely drained, wiping your eyes trying to stabilize your uneven breath. “K-Kei.. please don’t leave me-”

Because you weren’t sure he would come back this time.

Keigo crouches down just above eye level looking down at your weeping figure as if you’re a child, analyzing just how bad you want it with a sharp, stoic stare. He’s always had an aptitude for how heavy his gaze can be, it makes you shuffle in discomfort and want to turn away in insecurity. His large vermilion wings downturned behind him trying not to give away his next move.

You avoid the set of eyes on his handsome face, choosing to look at his sharp nose, or the light unshaven stubble on his chin. Your head pondering the possibility of him staying, what do you have to do?

Finally, you stare back at him longingly, swiftly trying to move close for a kiss but before you fill the gap, he clutches your jaw harshly with a single hand, squishing your cheeks together in the process. Not once sharing a kiss together, he was taken aback, giving you a gut reaction.

He can very clearly see your miserable, devestated face, knowing just how much you’d give up for him. The golden-eyed man revels in your submissive nature, and deep down he knows he’s a poisonous plant you have to stop eating from because you think it’s safe.

How many times did he have to remind you of that?

This is exactly what he didn’t want. He didn’t want you to give up the last ounce of respect you have for yourself in exchange for his love, for his attention. But there is no use trying to change the mind of a person who has already made it up. And if you want it so bad your only choice is to parade yourself for him, for his enjoyment.

“Show me, then.” He whispers softly.

Keigo thinks it’s so cute watching your eyes light up with hope. “Show you what?” You ask meekly, playing with your hands in your lap from the anxiety.

“Show me how bad you want it, how badly you want me to stay..” he says as he sits up and leans back, “In any way you think is necessary.. but you’re really gonna have to beg for this one, birdy.” Keigo looks down at you as he settles himself on the edge of the table.

You immediately knew he wasn’t looking for some heart to heart discussion. And to be fair you both never actually used a real conversation to fix your problems, unless the ones where you cry while he fucks you, mock asking why you’re such a bitch for him counts.

He crosses his arms, waiting to see what you’ll do when he’s not the one pushing you.

Looking down you feel the pressure of him putting you on the spot. Your old tears still a little bubble reflecting the moonlight on his black leather work boots. Secretly, Keigo knows you love when he bosses you around, telling you what to do and how to do it, silly little girl would not even let him ask twice.

It’s like he always knew what would happen, you’ll do anything for him.

Gaining a sudden rush of confidence, you softly grab and pull the leather glove off his hand, it feeling warm and slightly calloused from years of hero work, veins showing just how much power he has. Pushing your skirt up you sit your covered slit directly on his boot and hump slowly, letting your body heat up turning soft and weak for him.

Keigo looks at you with hidden lust letting you guide his thumb into your hot mouth, shooting a low curse under his breath watching you look so erotic for him. So eager you practically fuck yourself on his leg, gripping on, cheek smooshed against his knee while you suck his thumb because your mouth is so wanting.

You writhe and moan, your slick pairing with the smooth material of his boot, making it so easy for you to glide up and down, leaking even more from how good it feels. Keigo struggles to hold back, his sweet girl who is his little pillow princess finally taking what she wants for once, contaminating you once more. Gazing down your lidded eyes he thinks you’d look so much better if he just locked your head and shoved it into his clothed cock.

On a shooting star, Keigo wished you were like every other woman he’s been intimate with, if you were it would make him walking away from you so much easier than this. Wishing you were someone that was just as fucked up as him, but you never carried such a sadistic nature he does, and he knew if someone shot at his bleeding body you wouldn’t hesitate to jump in front.

But look where it has the both of you, once again mewing for him to dick you down. And it’s exactly what he’s going to do to you.

Keigo rips his hand out your mouth, immediately ripping his thick work jacket off his body. Standing over you, you can’t help but feel so helpless and wet in the process; the reciprocated attention blazing through your body like little white sparkles.

He shows off his amazing invert triange upper body that took years of hard work to maintain, you watch it flex underneath his black and gold accented compression shirt, not even bothering to remove it. The long sleeved clothing he only wears in the winter. You feel so lucky to be up close, watching his lean body ache for you as you do him.

Keigo rips his belt off, slides his pants down just enough to bring out his hard cock. Not wanting to wait any longer you immediately bring your head in just for a taste.

He grips the back of your hair by the root, grips the base and holds it close enough to kiss but not touch, looking so intimidating. “Don’t be so fucking impatient..”

Scoffing, Keigo arches your head, “Give it a nice good lick, sweetheart, then maybe i’ll think about fucking your mouth, alright?”

Without a second thought you tilt back your neck and lick from base to tip with Keigo’s hand digging in your hair, hissing with a light curse. You love watching him hold back so much, feigning to be the good guy here. Locking eyes you give a slight lick against his tip, wiping away the escaped precum with a cute smile, watching the slight shiver from his exhaled breath.

A fake laugh escapes his lips, smiling while tounging his top canine tooth in surprise. “Ok, birdy, lets play it your way.” Taking ahold of your jaw, he squeezes, pushing the grip of his cock right into your hot whore mouth. “Oh fuck-“ Keigo releases a breath he didn’t even know he was holding until he finally enters your hot cavernous mouth.

It’s the way you let him do this, that is what makes him so ridiculously hard for you. The way you flower yourself open for him without being told, he can’t help but be so eager to take advantage of you; of your wanting-ness, your desperation, the way your eyes roll back and push your folds harder onto his leather shoe, trying to suck up more of his masculine essence.

It’s the way he didn’t even have to push hard on the back of your head for you to already try and gag yourself from his tip in the back of your throat. When you get like this, can you even blame him? Can you blame him when he pumps shallow thrusts into your mouth even though you weakly tap his thighs trying to let him know you can’t breathe?

Keigo really can’t help himself, can he?

He lets you gag one last time before he finally pulls out with a low groan followed by a curse. If only you could see yourself right now, trying to fumble between coughing and breathing with spit dripping down your chin, string still connecting you two.

Your scattered breathing finally rests as you catch your breath, a light glaze across the whites of your eyes. Keigo looks at you with a faux coo, mocking a pout at you like a parent to their little baby that hurt their head on accident. “Can’t take any more?”

Heaving, your dumb little head was so fucked you couldn’t think about much other than how much your lower half ached in anguish for release, how even though you can’t think your body continues to hump, leaving bruised knees.

Keigo lifts you up; your legs like jello, letting you lean on him for support. You sit confused what he wants to do next.

He quirks an eyebrow at you, “Well don’t stop, you gotta keep going till you cum, dont you?” You meekly nod resting your head on his chest gripping on his arm for leverage as you continue to please yourself on his thigh, the thick cords of muscle through his pants massages your wet cunt, soaking him immediately. “Yeah, you gotta fuckin cum on me..” he murmurs, peppering soft jelly kisses on the sides of your head, rubbing your waist and squish of your ass in encouragement.

You can’t do more than whine how it’s just too much, but Keigo can’t even understand you, your eyes are lidded just muttering jibberish. That familiar coil, it’s so hard to ignore- how if the whole world was suddenly watching you couldn’t even get yourself to stop, absolutely uncontrollable.

His hard cock presses up against your front, waiting till it can fuck your tight hole that’s leaking on his thigh. But he couldn’t be so impatient and self-serving, he wanted you to have your release first, wanting to just feel you finish your promise. And once you do he’s gonna feel you squirt all over his abdomen as he jackrabbits your overstimmed pussy, exploiting yourself to him as a desperate bitch he knew you were.

“Kei, I can’t-“ your hips hold a mind of their own. You can feel your slick spread all over, helping you glide faster to reach what is so close. Looking up you’re practically face to face with the one you wish could reciprocate a title you will always have for him, a lover.

Keigo can see it perfectly, how you still hold a hopefulness in your heart, the grip he has on you that he wants to let go of but you won’t let him- or maybe he just can’t get himself to actually do it. Because getting you to plead up at him like he’s your higher power is so much easier than him finally expressing how much you really affect his life force.

He doesn’t know if he can ever correctly communicate the great fondness he possesses to you. But no matter what, you’ll be sitting there waiting for him. That’s all you do.

He’s the first to lean into you, grasping your lips with fervor, the passion dripping out his mouth into yours. You kiss him back, exchanging a type of warmth you never expected him to give, it was warmer than the words he spews, more comforting than the small kiss he’ll give on occasion to your cheek.

It sends you over the edge, the sudden butterflies dance with the sparkles in your belly, hotly moaning into his mouth feeling yourself cum on him, the sweet passions melting together causing you to jerk from the staggering stimulation.

Yelping in his chest the coil unwraps, feeling your cum seep out onto his thigh. You slow down from the exhaustion, body slowly falling back having no strength left to hold yourself up. Keigo quickly grabs your wrist, pulling you back up to brush his lips against yours once again.

The kiss sealing the hope you still possessed, you feel you had finally done it; but Keigo holds you up rushing towards the bed, and he is long from done with you.

.

.

.

Waking from slumber your body temperature feels colder than it did when you fell asleep in Keigo’s warm embrace after he continued to push you to your limits. A leaking sunbeam pokes your eyes forcing you to look around.

Empty.

Your heart feels heavy and you almost wanted to yell at it, saying you should’ve known this was going to happen and expected it.

Glancing around the room, it’s when you see it. In a room full of color it’s still the brightest and most beautiful one, practically glowing blood red. It’s the same as the last times he’s done this. Leaving a small quill until the time passes by and he returns back to you and leaves again. That schedule has never been a consistent algorithm, just the outcome.

You can watch him on television or find him on his stupid social media he doesn’t even run. You only ever tried texting him once and never got a response during his departure, but it will all never add up to him standing over you, caressing your mind, body and soul with what comes to feel like empty promises.

And so all you can do now is wait, just like he knows you will. Because again, that is all you do. Just waiting for your bright red comet to come back around and do it all all over again to you.

This was not meant to be any longer than 1.5k words haha, but I feel as if it wrote itself and turned out how it was supposed to be. Ending was a bit more bittersweet than I imagined.

Stay tuned for Getou or Aizawa content soon!

Dont be afraid to send in any ideas or critiques, I hope you all continue to support me, and stay well.

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