#+ idk why his back is shattered like that and idk how to fix it lol sorry

[sorbetisfruity]

Imagine you and some of the TWST guys are preparing for a little party. Whether it be a tea party, or maybe an unbirthday party, idk but THERES A PARTY GOING ON OKAY?

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Obviously Ace and Deuce are there, and so is Grim and Jack and Epel. They practically follow you everywhere so of course they’d help you set up!! Even if they really don’t wanna.

Riddle, Leona, and Vil are there too. Leona doesn’t really wanna be there, but he can’t let his poor weak herbivore do it all on their own, can he?

No, he can’t. He likes you too much to leave you alone because he knows only like, 3 people are gonna help you out.

Riddle is there to make sure no one breaks any rules and behaves accordingly and Vil is there to make sure everything is absolutely perfect. It’s a big party after all, and anything other than perfect could ruin his reputation!!! And we wouldn’t want that, would we??:(

You’re setting the table, trying to make everything as perfectly set as possible. Yet no matter how straight and how perfect you put down those plates and silverware, Vil is correcting it and criticizing you.

“Is it really that hard to set the table correctly Prefect? I know not having magic shouldn’t effect your ability to set a table..” he’d complain, fixing yet another fork you apparently laid down incorrectly.

And you’d stay quiet, getting more and more upset by the minute as you continued setting the table.

And everyone could tell you were getting fed up, but decided to stay quiet for their own good, because they know how Vil is.

“Prefect, at this point it might be better for me to set this table. You’re doing it all wrong. It looks absolutely hideous.” He complained again, making you look up from the fork he asked you to adjust.

“Vil, it looks fine. Can’t you go bother somebody else? I know how to set a table.” You finally talked back, making everyone look up and turn to you two.

“It doesn’t look fine. It looks horrendous. Just like your skin. Have you been doing that skincare routine I showed you?” He fussed, reaching out to touch your face, “and besides, the table only looks a little bit better because I fixed it. Like I said, it doesn’t take magic to set a table, now does it? You should be able to do this with no issues, right?”

You backed away from him, huffing as you did so. “No, I haven’t. I’ve been too busy planning this party and with school and with you guys. I don’t have time for that stuff right now.”

Leona then interrupts, getting in between you two.

“Leave the herbivore alone, table looks fine,” he mumbled with a yawn, “if it looks so awful, maybe you should do it yourself.” He leaned against you, closing his eyes as he spoke.

You sent Leona a thankful smile, looking at Vil as he glared sharply at the both of you.

“Are you being serious? Leona, look at it. It’s a mess. Great Seven, you can’t even set a table correctly. What are you good for, anyways? You’re magicless, you lack strength in general, you can’t even take care of yourself, and your grades are slipping!”

“You’re awful. I will never, never understand why the Black Mirror brought you here.”

The room went silent. The dishes in your hand went clattering to the floor, some shattering on impact.

You knew he can be an asshole, but fuck man.

That hurt.

That hurt a lot.

“You know what, Vil? Fuck you. I’m fucking trying, okay? But it’s hard to focus on things when I’m tackling one overblot and problem after another. I know you’re stressed out and shit, but you don’t need to take it out on me.” You took a deep breath, glaring at him as you teared up.

“I’m so fucking done.”

Before you knew it, your eyes were filled with tears and you were running out the door, hearing your friends shout for you as you ran.

God you wanna go home..

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Oh how I love angst!!

I really wanna make a part 2!! Would you guys like that? Lemme knowwwww!!

If I do make a part two, we’ll see Neige and get a lil more info about Vil and why he said what he said🤞🤞

#twst imagines #twst x reader #disney twst #twst #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst mc #twisted wonderland vil #twst yuu #twst leona #twst headcanons #twst angst #twst vil #twst spoilers #twisted wonderland leona #vil shoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit #leona x reader #leona kingscholar #neige #neige leblanche #neige x reader

[appocalipse]

how about cracked compass + antique lock and key set with eddie munson? hear me out, but i'm thinking a historical AU and they're both servants at the same house/manor/castle (thinking kinda downton abbey energy with the servants drama). maybe she's carrying a tray or something and spills it everywhere (idk maybe it's food, maybe its something tiny like a jar of beads) and eddie swoops in and takes the fall so that she doesn't get sacked (because he's been working there a lot longer) makes up some story about how it was his fault and stuff. yup, that'd be the moment you fell stupidly hard for him... imagine all of the pinning? the staring at him when he's not looking? AH!

lea, you have such a beautiful mind 🥺♥ i tried my best but unfortunately, i've never watched downton abbey, so it's probably not exactly what you wanted :( hope you'll still enjoy it anyway, thanks for the lovely request 💗 | 4.3k words

visit amy's flea market ♥

The vase goes clattering to the floor and you watch with a desperate and frenzied heart as it hits the stone and...shatters instantly.

In a mix of dismay and panic, you reach to the floor where the delicate craftwork is broken into countless jagged and shattered pieces along the smooth white tile. Upon attempting to save the poor vase, you accidently slash your palm open on one of the sharp corners, and though the wound gushes blood, you don't seem to care. You think maybe if you gather all of the pieces and put them back together in their proper place, it may still be fixed, may still be saved, if you—

"Have you- Christ! Sweetheart, what...what happened?"

Startled, you look up to find Eddie running down the long and winding stairway, his chest rising and falling as if he'd just run a mile. He quickly makes his way over to you, crouching down on the floor, his dark eyes scanning your body for any signs of injury.

"Are you hurt? Oh God, there's blood," he breathes, and before you can reply, he's reaching out to take your wounded hand in his and inspect it closer.

The feel of his fingers against your skin sends a tingling sensation up your spine, but you shake the feeling away and focus on explaining yourself. "I...I was just passing by and...I tried to grab it, but it fell, and—I didn't mean for it to—"

"Hey, hey, shh, it's alright," Eddie murmurs, and without hesitation, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a clean handkerchief. He wraps it around your bleeding hand and ties it tight, his movements gentle and careful. "I'll talk to Mr. Harrington about it, okay? It's not your fault."

"I—no. It was all me. Don't...you shouldn't get involved, you'll end up getting in trouble too."

Eddie smiles softly, his dark eyes sparkling as he looks up at you. "You're sweet, but...it's okay. I've been a servant here for a longer time. I know how to deal with this. You don't need to worry, okay?"

Unable to form words, you stare at Eddie and wonder why he's being so kind to you. It's true that the two of you have grown close over the past few years—close enough that you'd even consider him your friend—but still...this isn't his fault, and he shouldn't feel the need to take the blame for you.

"Eddie, I—"

He blushes and drops his gaze, reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of hair away from your face. "Go clean up, okay? I'll handle it."

And with that, Eddie carefully picks up the broken shards of the vase and disappears down the hall.

For the next days, you can't seem to stop thinking about what happened. The guilt eats away at your insides, twisting and turning until you feel physically sick. Eddie had taken the punishment for you, from what you've heard — a severe deduction from his pay and the threat of getting fired, along with extra cleaning duties.

You had tried to protest, to tell Mr. Harrington that it was truly an accident and that you could handle the consequences yourself, but Eddie wouldn't let you. He'd taken on everything, saying that the vase had slipped off the pedestal as he was cleaning it, and that he'd been the clumsy and careless one, leaving you in the clear.

You hated it.

It was the reason you couldn't seem to sleep, couldn't seem to eat or even breathe. Every waking moment was haunted by the memory of his soft and understanding voice, the warmth of his fingers against your own, the smell of his hair lingering in the air long after he'd gone, like a ghost haunting your thoughts and—

"God, sweetheart, you look terrible," Eddie says one day as you make your way through the castle corridors. "When was the last time you had a good night of sleep, huh?"

You blush, self-consciously touching your hair and wishing you looked even a fraction better than you did. "I-I'll pay you back, you know. I promise."

Eddie frowns, tilting his head in confusion. "Pay me back?"

"For...for taking the punishment for me. I'll do double my duties, and with the extra payment—"

"Woah, wait...you want to do extra work so you can...give it to me? What? That doesn't even make any sense. I didn't take the punishment so you'd repay me for it, you know."

"But it was my fault," you argue. "And it's only right that I—"

"How's your hand?"

"I don't...what?"

Blinking in confusion, you look down to where your hand is neatly wrapped in gauze. You had accidently re-opened the wound a few days back while running some errands for your lady, but it had mostly healed by now, though it would surely scar.

"Is it feeling better? That was a nasty cut," Eddie asks, moving closer so he can reach out and inspect your palm. He takes your hand carefully, as if you're made of glass, gingerly unwrapping the bandage and scanning the sensitive skin with his eyes. His touch sends an electric buzz under your skin, a longing unfurling in your belly that you force yourself to ignore.

"Oh, uhm, yes. I'm fine," you reply, trying to calm the sudden rush of heat that's flooded your cheeks. "But—Eddie, please. If you won't take the extra payment, then please, just let me do some of your chores or—"

"No. Why would I do that?"

"Why would you not?!"

Eddie laughs, shaking his head and giving you a crooked smile. "Sweetheart, I told you—I did what I did because I wanted to. Because I'm your friend and...I like seeing you happy. Seeing you upset over this whole thing is worse than a month's worth of cleaning duties, honestly."

You frown, biting the inside of your cheek and staring down at the polished tile beneath your feet. "Still, it doesn't feel right, you taking the blame and...punishment for me. I can't stand the thought of you getting in trouble because of something I did, especially when it's...it's not your fault, and you shouldn't have to—"

"I don't think of it as punishment."

"You don't?"

You look up, watching as Eddie's chocolate eyes seem to sparkle in the dim light of the candle-lit hallway. "I've been here longer than you. It would've been much worse if you'd taken the fall."

Eddie's fingers are gentle and warm against your own, his calloused hands brushing over your palm with a feather-light touch. You watch as he carefully wraps the gauze around the wound again, his brows furrowed in concentration as he secures the fabric tightly.

"I think you're being too kind to me," you murmur, feeling your heart race as he brushes a stray lock of hair away from your face. "I don't deserve it."

Eddie chuckles, shaking his head and stepping back with a sigh. "What if I have an ulterior motive?"

You frown, tilting your head in confusion. "Ulterior motive?"

"Mhm. What if I'm only doing it so you'll see how good I am and fall madly in love with me? Hmm?"

You blush, unable to form words as Eddie grins mischievously. "I—you—what?"

"Kidding, sweetheart, I'm kidding," Eddie says with a chuckle, reaching out to gently pat your head. "I'm just trying to make you smile, that's all."

"Well, you're very good at it."

"You think so?"

"Yes," you breathe, surprised by the sudden sincerity in your voice. "I'm glad we're friends, Eddie."

"Me too, sweetheart."

After that night, you couldn't seem to get those stupid words out of your head.

Eddie had been joking, of course. The two of you were close, but he didn't have feelings for you. Of course not. Not like that. How could he? How could someone as sweet and handsome and wonderful as him like you of all people, when there were so many other girls who were prettier, with more money and manners than you could ever hope to achieve?

You sigh and return your focus to where you're meant to be helping your lady get dressed, dutifully lacing the ties of her corset and giving them a good tug.

You know that he'd meant it in good fun. Know that he had most likely forgotten about it as soon as he'd said it—but for whatever reason, you can't seem to.

It's so annoying.

You love Eddie. He is your friend, of course. And while you both had never broached any territory close to a romantic relationship, you aren't stupid or blind. You aren't oblivious enough to the way his dark eyes seem to linger on you for a little too long. To how he holds the door open and gently touches the small of your back whenever the two of you are walking through the castle or descending the grand staircase.

God, you could go on and on and on about him.

"Miss, you seem rather distracted," your lady remarks, causing you to flush with embarrassment. "Did you tie my corset too tight, by chance?"

"Oh—I'm sorry, my lady," you reply, shaking yourself from your thoughts and adjusting the laces once more. "There—how is that?"

"Much better."

After helping her into her dress and pinning her hair into place, you follow her out of her chambers and down the corridor to the grand staircase, where a few other servants are already waiting for her. Tonight you and most of the other servants will finally have some time to yourselves — the family you serve is going to be attending a lavish dinner party with many other high-class members of society.

They're going to be gone for most of the night, and though usually you'd look forward to this sort of thing, you can't seem to muster the same excitement as usual.

You just aren't...feeling it tonight.

You sigh and make your way down the stairs, where the front doors have just opened and your lady and her husband are now heading out to their carriages. Once they're all gone, the rest of the servants will enjoy their rare free time as well, either staying in their quarters or heading into the town. Maybe that's what you should do, you think; go into town and distract yourself from your confusing thoughts about a certain valet, now that you have the luxury of time on your hands and no expectations of anyone.

"Miss, you seem a little flushed. Are you feeling well?" Eddie asks mischievously, stepping up behind you and reaching out to brush his fingers against the back of your neck. "You don't have a fever, do you?"

You jump, startled by the sudden touch and turning to look up at Eddie with a huff. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Sneak up on me like that. You scared me half to death."

"Oh, did I?" Eddie asks, and the corners of his lips twitch upwards into a crooked grin. "Sorry about that."

You roll your eyes and try to suppress the sudden butterflies in your stomach. God, how could you have let yourself fall for someone like him, anyway? He'll be the death of you.

"Is there something on my face?"

"Oh, er...no," you murmur, suddenly feeling very flustered. "I was just lost in thought. I suppose you're also staying?"

"Staying?"

"Here."

Eddie makes a confused face, tilting his head in an adorable expression of perplexity. "Where would I go?"

You frown. It seems unlike Eddie to not find some sort of adventure in the rare and little free time you're given; he's always the first one eager to ride out to town and spend a free evening gambling and drinking with his friends, but this time, he doesn't seem eager to go anywhere at all.

"You...don't want to head into town with the others?" you ask, unsure of whether or not you're prying too much. "I heard the pubs are having a sale on ale and—"

Eddie sighs, running a hand through his curly dark locks and shrugging his shoulders. "Eh. I'm not in the mood, I guess."

You tilt your head, intrigued by his sudden change in behavior. Usually, he's the life of the party, the one who brings a room together with his energy and humor, but now, he seems almost...dejected.

"Eddie, is everything alright? Did something—"

"Fine," he replies a little too quickly, his voice sounding strained. He gives you a forced smile and reaches out to gently touch your shoulder. "Just tired, that's all."

You frown, unconvinced. "If there's something bothering you, you can always—"

"Sweetheart, don't worry, okay?" Eddie murmurs, his dark eyes sparkling in the dim light of the entrance hall. He leans closer, his fingers gently grazing over your cheek, and for a moment, your breath catches in your throat. "Promise."

Before you can say anything else, he's turning on his heel and heading towards the back staircase, his valet uniform swishing behind him as he goes.

You blink, your fingers lightly touching where his hand had been moments before. The sudden brush of his skin had sent electric shocks throughout your body, a heat building up inside your belly that you can't seem to get rid of.

"Excuse me," one of the maids whispers as she walks by, startling you from your trance. "I need to clear this hallway."

"Oh, um...sorry," you reply, flustered. "I'll get out of the way."

By the time you reach the servants quarters, most of the staff that had received permission to go out has already left. Most of the doors are closed, and the sound of chatter and footsteps and laughter fades out into the distance as you head towards your bedroom and gently shut the door behind you.

Your share your room with three other girls, but none of them are anywhere to be seen now.

Thank God.

You sigh, the dull roar of your thoughts finally starting to quiet down as you sit at your small desk and lean your head against the back of the chair.

You can't stop thinking about what had just happened.

Can't stop thinking about the sudden flirtatious behavior and the way Eddie had brushed his fingers against your cheek with a gentleness that made your knees buckle.

With a long, exhausted sigh, you rise to your feet and slowly start to unpin your hair from its tight bun. You replace your uniform with a simple cotton dress, comfortable enough for a night of light reading and...

A knock at your door jolts you from your thoughts.

"Hey, uh...sweetheart?"

You pause, blinking in confusion and taking a few tentative steps towards the door. "Eddie?"

It can't be.

"Yeah, it's me."

"Is something wrong?"

Eddie chuckles softly on the other side of the door, his voice sounding muffled by the heavy oak. "No, nothing's wrong. I, um...I found a jar of wine in the pantry that Mr. Harrington doesn't know about. Thought you might wanna join me?"

You bite your lip, a wave of nerves rushing through your body as you slowly reach out for the door handle. He shouldn't be here and you definitely shouldn't open the door.

But some things are easier said than done.

You carefully turn the knob and pull it back.

He looks downright sinful, his valet uniform unbuttoned at the collar, a few loose strands of hair falling over his forehead, dark eyes sparkling mischievously in the dim light of the hallway.

He holds the jar in his hand, the liquid sloshing around inside and giving off a slight spicy aroma that you can almost already taste on your tongue.

Male servants like Eddie are strictly forbidden from coming anywhere near the women's quarters, and if someone were to find you, it would be a hell of a lot of trouble for both of you.

"I—are you insane?" you whisper, unsure of whether to shut the door in his face or let him in. "If the housekeeper—"

"Come on, sweetheart, live a little. It'll be fun," Eddie murmurs, stepping closer and leaning forward so his face is level with yours. "Trust me."

You stare at him for a few more tense moments, your heart racing and your palms sweaty against the cool brass handle of the door.

Finally, you swallow thickly and step back, making room for Eddie to come inside.

As soon as he crosses the threshold, you shut the door quickly and lean back against it, waiting for the sound of footsteps or yelling or anything that would indicate the presence of another servant or staff member.

"Chill, sweetheart," Eddie murmurs with a smirk, carefully opening the window a crack and lighting a match to ignite a few candles. "Nobody's gonna come looking for us. Everyone's gone."

"Mrs. Byers is not, no," you argue, crossing your arms over your chest with a huff. Most of the time, you like the housekeeper; she is the closest thing to a motherly figure in your life right now. But she's also incredibly strict when it comes to rules. "She's probably somewhere lurking, as always."

Eddie chuckles softly, winking playfully in your direction. "Well, then we'll have to keep it down."

"Oh, for God's sake. Just open it already."

Carefully, Eddie pries the cork off the jar of wine and takes a swig, a grin playing on his lips. He takes a few steps towards you, holding the bottle out for you to take.

"Want some?"

"It's bad for your liver."

"Everything in life is bad for your liver," Eddie replies, tilting his head to the side. "C'mon, sweetheart. It's good."

You glance down at the bottle, taking in the sweet scent of dark cherries and spices, the bright purple liquid swirling around inside like a whirlpool.

You reach out, your fingers brushing against Eddie's as you take the jar and lift it to your lips, taking a sip.

The taste is unlike anything you've ever experienced. It's sweet and tart and spicy and rich, all at the same time, with an intense burst of flavor on your tongue that you never thought possible.

Feeling your skin warm, you hand the jar back to Eddie and watch as he drinks deeply, his eyes sparkling in the soft glow of the candlelight.

"Are you sure no one will miss this?" you ask, glancing down at the bottle and wondering how expensive it might've been. "What if Mr. Harrington finds out?"

"He won't. Not if we don't make too much of a fuss," Eddie replies, his voice growing softer. "I bet nobody's even thought to look for it. And besides, he wouldn't know it was us anyway."

You cross your arms, raising a challenging brow as you sit on the edge of your bed. "How can you be so sure?"

"There's plenty of wine in the cellar," Eddie counters with a grin, putting his hands up as if he's surrendering. "I didn't steal all his wine. I merely took one that was already there."

"Don't take anymore."

"No promises."

"Eddie."

"Sweetheart."

The nickname sends a rush of heat to your cheeks and you shake your head, fighting a smile as you smooth the fabric of your dress.

He takes a swig of the wine, never taking his eyes off you, and leans back against the wall, the familiar scent of him drifting towards you like a wave of summer air.

"It's good, isn't it?" Eddie asks, cocking his head to the side. "And you're, ah...you're really pretty tonight."

You roll your eyes and try not to look too affected, pushing the stupid fluttery feelings back down into your stomach and stomping them out like tiny little sparks. "Are you already drunk?" you ask, chuckling.

"Pfft, no."

"Then why are you suddenly talking nonsense?"

"It's not nonsense," Eddie protests, his ears turning red. He shakes his head and moves closer, setting the wine jar down on the desk and rubbing the back of his neck. "I think you're...really great, sweetheart. Really amazing. In every single way."

"Uh-huh, sure."

You look away, pretending to be interested in something else so that Eddie doesn't have a chance to read the emotions on your face and pick up on all of the pent-up love for him you've stored inside for the last months — love that is, you've decided, better off locked up tightly in the chest in the corner and never spoken aloud.

He looks different in the soft and sultry orange glow of the low-burning candle, though — his curls illuminated by the light, his dark eyes sparkling, his soft lips curved into a gentle smile.

"Hey."

Eddie sits down beside you, and the heat of his body radiates outward and dances across your skin like the waves of a flickering flame.

He smells clean and warm and fragrant, like soap and fresh laundry.

You lean closer, looking up at him through your lashes and watching as he nervously wrings his hands together.

"You know," Eddie murmurs, smiling gently. "You make my life a lot more interesting than it used to be."

"Are you suggesting I cause you a lot of trouble, then?"

"Not at all," he replies, laughing softly and looking back up at you, his expression softening. "More like...just makes me wanna keep coming back to you, over and over. Even when I don't have to. And especially when I need someone to talk to."

You bite your lip, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you let his words sink in. "Is that why you're here right now? To talk?"

He blinks, his tongue swiping out over his lower lip as his gaze drops to your mouth. "Are you drunk, by any chance, sweetheart? Be honest."

"Why would you—"

"Because I'm about to kiss you, and I want you to be sober."

His words come out breathless, his eyes flicking up to meet yours as your lips part in surprise.

"I am...not drunk," you reply, holding his gaze and leaning closer, your hands tingling from his sudden proximity. "I'm entirely in my right mind. Definitely."

He grins crookedly. "Really?"

"Really."

"So, if I did..."

Eddie's voice trails off as he inches forward, his eyes lidding slightly as he moves closer and closer and...

He stops, his nose inches from yours, and the tips of his long fingers gently brush over your chin, lifting your face up to meet his. "This okay?"

"Yes," you manage, your voice hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

"Good."

His lips are soft when they finally brush against yours, gentle and warm and inviting, and you inhale sharply, feeling yourself go weak in the knees.

He tastes like spice and cherry, and you reach out to grip his shoulders, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss, your head spinning as he kisses you back with equal fervor, his hand gently cupping the back of your neck to keep you steady.

You gasp softly, his teeth grazing over your lip and sending a shock of electricity through your core, and you reach out, your fingers gripping the fabric of his jacket as you hold onto him for dear life.

"Fuck," Eddie breathes, panting softly as he finally pulls away. "God, that was good."

"It was," you whisper, looking up at him and biting your lip. "Worth the wait."

"Wait, what?" Eddie asks, raising a brow.

You blink, realizing you'd said that last part out loud and instantly wanting to crawl under the bed and die. "Uhm...nothing."

"Oh, please," he murmurs, smirking. "Tell me more. Did you have to wait a long time for this to happen, sweetheart? Hmm?"

"Absolutely not," you reply a little too quickly. "Forget I said anything."

"Nope, not letting you get away with that. What are you trying to hide, huh? How long have you been harboring secret feelings for me?"

"You're ridiculous."

"Am I?"

You lean back, your body screaming in protest as Eddie gently pushes you back onto the pillows and straddles your hips. He's heavier than you realized, and his fingers are calloused from years of work, but the mere thought of him touching you sends goosebumps up and down your arms and legs.

"Do you like me?" he whispers, his lips brushing against your neck and sending sparks down your spine. "Hmm?"

"Eddie, we—"

"Please, just...just tell me. At least let me hear you say it."

He pulls back, his eyes searching yours as he waits for you to answer. Your heart is racing, blood rushing through your ears and making you lightheaded and dizzy.

"I...no," you whisper, grinning when he raises a brow and scoffs. "Fine. Maybe. Only a little bit."

"Liar."

"Okay. More than a little bit. Maybe...maybe, I even love you, alright? Jesus. There, I said it."

Eddie's jaw drops, his pupils blown wide. "What, seriously?"

"Oh, alright, get off of me. I'm done with you."

"Hey, no, wait, wait, wait, I'm sorry," he breathes, grabbing your wrists and pinning your arms above your head. "Don't—don't go anywhere."

"Eddie."

"Shh."

He chuckles, his warm breath fanning over your lips and making you weak in the knees. "What?" you rasp, struggling against his grip, stubborn in your attempts to stay mad.

"You love me, hm?" he muses, smiling brightly and making your heart skip a beat.

"I take it back."

"You're not allowed to," he breathes, his mouth barely an inch away from yours. "That's not how it works, sweetheart. Sorry."

"You're very annoying."

"And you're very pretty when you're frustrated," he murmurs, brushing his lips over yours. "I...love you too, in case you didn't know."

"You what?"

"Love you," he repeats, his cheeks flushing pink. "Madly. Desperately. Quite embarrassingly, in fact, sweetheart."

You blink, your breath catching in your throat. "Really?

"Really," Eddie breathes, kissing you softly once more. "Shoulda kissed you the second I met you. Wish I had."

"Well," you murmur. "I suppose you'll just have to make up for lost time, won't you?"

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie x you #eddie x reader #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson blurb #amy's flea market #🏷️ amy's flea market

[pastell-moon]

imagine shigaraki unexpectedly comforting u 🤭 but since he’s a villain the solution is literally “i’ll just get them killed lol”

CW: crying, death implied, mostly fluff. blunt comforting, villains being villains.

i imagine you open up to him here abt family abuse, (self indulgent srry) but u can imagine it as anything. (bullies, mean coworkers, idk)

ミ✭ . ・ ★彡 . ⋆ ・ ✵彡 • . ・⋆ ミ☆ • ｡ ⋆ 彡

“i’ll try my best, but…” you purse your lips a little, “i’m just so tired of having to deal with them.” you finish sputtering. you can feel hiccups threatening to arise.

a few more tears roll down your red cheeks. you sniffle and are glad that your hair is shielding your face a little. at least your leader can’t see your full on crying face.

he crouches down. now that he’s at your level, you try even harder to get your body to stop shaking.

“look at me.” shigaraki says.

you reluctantly turn to face him. he reaches forward with his hand, his fingers gently brushing your hair aside as if nothing. he does it so casually, but your heartbeat speed up.

he looks over your features. “wow. you’re being serious.” he scoffs. he stands up and takes out his phone, walking as he typed away.

“you don’t understand-“

“i could end all that crap that’s bothering you in a second.”

it takes you a moment to process his offer. with rosy cheeks and a teary, hopeful eyes you try getting up, stumbling a little in the process.

“r-really? how??”

he sighs. “they’re all as good as dead if you say so.”

you’re up on your feet, clumsily staggering around as you walk to him. hope fills your chest, but you automatically feel contradicted. should you really let the league… “handle” your abusers for you? after all, those people had decided to cause you tears of torment. you were already a criminal anyways. still, you panicked. “what? but shigaraki, we’ll have to deal with even more-“

“problems?” he cut off. he shook his head and waved it off. “then we’ll deal with those. this is nothing the league can’t handle.” he turns off his phone and shoved it back in his pocket. “dabi’s dealing with them right now. he happened to be in the area.”

it’s crazy how things that are life shattering for you are such a simple fix for shigaraki. you wipe at your eyes as you realize it will be over soon.

“you know, for us here, that’s nothing.” shigaraki started. “not even in a show-offy way, you know. we just put end to things we don’t like.” you wiped at your nose as you watched him talk. “they were selfish with you, weren’t they?” he asked with a small tilt of his head. his voice sounded kind, but you knew it was laced with venom.

you nodded meekly.

“then why can’t you be selfish with them?”

your eyes widen.

it’s true.

before you can even begin to utter a thank you, he takes the hand off of his face. his skin is rough and littered with scars, but just as you suspected, he has the prettiest facial features that go with his pretty light blue hair. he has a beauty mark below his lips towards the right side of his face. a scar runs down the left side of his lip. his eyes are bright red, and they’re looking right back at you. you’re staring.

you lower your flushed face, looking down at the ground. you’ve never felt so welcome. “thank you, shigaraki…” you shyly mumble, gaze averted. “i’ll make it back up to you someday…”

you look so cute it pisses him off. “yeah, yeah. whatever.” he rasps, making you softly laugh.

“no, really. you’re the best, tomura.” you look back at him and give him a grateful yet tearful smile. a little too girly for him, probably, because he rolls his eyes and turns around after scoffing.

“shut up.” he says, and you can’t help but smile at the tips of his ears turning red.

#bnha shigaraki #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki fluff #tomura shiragaki #tomura x y/n #tenko shimura #bnha x reader fluff #bnha x reader #tomura shigaraki #mha dabi

[the1975attheirverybest]

just could really use something where maybe ur anxious and crying or whatever it may be for whatever reason and matty just holds u and runs his hands through your hair and whispers sweet nothings and affirmations IDK i just feel kinda shit rn ig

Oh, honey. I’m so sorry you’re having a difficult time right now. Please know that it will pass. Even if it doesn’t feel like it right now. I am sending you all the best vibes and well wishes. I’m here for you, if you need to vent or chat or anything at all. Been there myself. More times than I can count. So, I completely understand. ❤️ I hope that this can at least bring a smile to your face.

——

Matty walked through the door, expecting to be greeted with a hug from his favorite human being, after a long day at work. He kicked his shoes off, glancing around the room for signs of her. His brows furrow at the eerie silence. He’s used to the speakers blasting music, the sounds and smells of her cooking, or the TV being on, at the very least. This quiet was unsettling.

He rushes up the stairs, whistling the tune of the song he’s been working on all day. He peaks his head into the bedroom and smiles when his eyes finally land on her figure.

“Hey, baby! What’re you doin’ up here so early?” He walks over, a bit concerned that she doesn’t turn around to look at him as soon as he shows up. “Hey, you sleepin’ or something?”

She eventually pulls herself up and turns to face him, mumbling a soft apology. “Sorry, I- umm, just didn’t hear you come in.”

Matty is alarmed. How could she not have heard him come in, walk up the stairs, and all the way to the bedroom? He sits by her on the bed, taking her face in his hands and looking her straight in the eyes. Which is when it dawns on him that she’s on the verge of tears.

“Hey, honey, what’s the matter, my love?”

She bites her wobbly lip, struggling to keep from crying. All the effort that she had put into shoving her anxious thoughts into the back of her mind, and all the energy that she had spent telling herself to power through the hard part, and to just be strong for one more day, was now washing away at the sound of his gentle coaxing pulling at her heartstrings.

She shakes her head and attempts to brush him off, but Matty will not hear of it. He can tell she’s upset, and his heart is breaking at the tears in her eyes. “Baby, please talk to me. What’s the matter?” His hand on her neck and bottom of her cheek, pulls her into him, and she can no longer keep the tears at bay. She sobs into his arms, with him holding her tight, and vents to him while his shirt soaks up her tears, about how awful she’s been feeling for a long time now. That she feels stuck and helpless with her mind spiraling all the time. It feels like the world around her is moving at warp speed, and she has to exert twice as much energy just to try and keep up, and most of the time, she can’t even do that. And she feels guilty for even being upset because she knows she’s supposed to be stronger than this, but she’s just so exhausted all the time.

Matty listens to her speak and feels the sobs shake her whole body as they leave her lips and his heart shatters to a million pieces. “Baby, why haven’t you said anything? I wish you’d talked to me…if I’d known that you’ve been feeling this way- fuck, I never would’ve left for work this morning.” He hates to imagine that while he slept soundly by her side every night, she’s been lying awake struggling in anguish without his support.

He pulls them both into the bed so he’s resting his back against the headboard, with her in his lap, stroking her hair, kissing her forehead and cooing to her. “It’s okay, my love. I’ve got you. You’re not alone. Don’t have to be strong anymore. You can fall apart if you need to. I’ll catch you, I’ll put you back together.”

She falls asleep with him holding her, and he’s there in the morning when she tries to pretend everything’s fine and start her day anew.

“You need to rest. You can’t fix your situation if you’re running on fumes.”

“But life doesn’t pause and wait for me. If I don’t get on with it, I’ll fall behind. It’ll be even worse!” She feels the emotions bubble back up to the surface, but she doesn’t have time for this right now. She’s a grown up, with real responsibilities, and no time for outbursts.

“Fuck that shit! I couldn’t give a rats ass about the rest of the world. What I care about is you. My love. My favorite person. Everyone else could set themselves on fire for all I care. If you’re not healthy, how could you be expected to get anything done?” He puts his hands on both of her shoulders, dragging her back to bed. “Please. Stay here with me. Just for today. Let me spoil you. Let me take care of you. We’ll have a day in. Just us. I wanna talk. Feel like I haven’t been present. I wanna know what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours. If all you need is some rest, we’ll make sure you get it. If you need professional help, I want to make sure you have it. Please, baby, stay home with me.”

And how could she refuse. When he looks at her with his pretty eyes and she sees the concern that fills them, she knows he’s right. And at least for the moment, the burden isn’t as heavy. Knowing that he would gladly carry it with her is the first glimmer of hope she’s felt in a long time.

#matty healy #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy x reader #matty healy x y/n #matty healy fanfic #matty healy x you #matty healy fluff

[somethin-human]

My Darlin’/Tank headcanons

(Forgive me, I am feeling gross and congested so if sentences sound weird, that’s probably why lol bc my brain has stopped working)

They have naturally super white looking hair, but dyed the underneath layer black

Idk if this is considered a headcanon but like they genuinely have no idea how to cook. They know how to heat up things in a microwave, but like if not that, then they’re completely lost.

They are the cuddly type when they are drunk or sick.

Whenever they wake up from a nap (that Sam forced them into), they’re shift and do a big stretch.

Addition to that, they’re also do that thing that dogs do sometimes and nudge their snout to Sam’s butt (like the side of it) and it always makes Sam giggle.

Sam and Darlin’ still haven’t gone on a proper date. Not for any particular reason, they just don’t really find it necessary and just chill at home and watch movies.

When they broke up with Quinn, they chopped off all their hair with a knife. Not even with scissors, a whole ass knife. And their hair looked super choppy but cool looking.

When their hair grew back out, Angel was the one to fix it up a little bit.

Sam has a basement that he never used but when Darlin’ moved in, they turned it into a gym because they took a liking to boxing.

They still have an iPhone 4, and they completely shattered the screen but it still works completely fine. Sam and William have INSISTED on getting them a new phone but they always turn it down. (Is this a self insert? Probably? But thankfully I don’t have an iPhone 4 anymore… now I have a 6s 😩)

They did have a gender crisis when they were a younger teen, but then decided to just go with whatever.

Anarchist

Sometimes David asks if they would want to be a part of a gig and sometimes they say yes, but David always plans for them not to show up until an hour after they’re supposed to be there.

They’re complete ass at Minecraft, but they play with the other mates because why not.

There’s a cliff in the forest that surrounds their and Sam’s cabin and sometimes when they feel “eh”, they’ll just sit near it and watch the birds.

If they’re terrified of anything, it’s thunder.

They’re really good at quickly calming their panic attacks because they’re scared of being vulnerable and hate crying in front of people.

They have stollen several flannels from Sam.

Sweetheart got them a weighted blanket and it’s their favorite thing.

Sam bought them a stuffed animal. They said it was cute, in like a “oh, yeah, thanks” kind of way, but whenever he comes home from a clan meeting, he finds them curled up with his pillow and the stuffed animal.

(I have more, but this is what y’all are getting)

#redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted asmr #redacted headcanons #redacted audio darlin #redacted audio tank #redacted asmr darlin #redacted darlin #redacted tank

[minkkumaz]

Ok hi wow I was supposed to ask for some sunoo hcs (as your bf) but like..I have a bnd req now too !! I was wondering if you could write smth for woonhak where he confesses to yn, right? and then yn rejects him bc of some issues she has w herself idk…but dont get me wrong she does like him! so now what is woonhak left to do ? (ofc they still end up together < 33) (like maybe it could be a mini smau..if you could but it could also just be a nice little fic or smth) this is what i was thinking abt when i saw the heartbreak girl fic you were working on 😭 i wonder what woonhak would feel after that rejection yk? how would it affect his seemingly happy and cheery personality ? (also im so sorry if this is long atp im rambling but if youre too busy a few sunoo hcs would be just fine)

REJECT ME SO I CAN MOVE ON

rejecting your best friend woonhak was quite literally one of the most difficult and complicated thing in your life. you loved him, but there were so many personal obstacles in the way.

PAIRING kim woonhak x fem!reader WC 0.7k TAGS adults dni. friends to lovers. slight angst. fluff. reader needs to fix herself but woonhak comes to the resue. readers problems aren't specifically mentioned. OMI NOTE oh my goshness i'm so sorry this request is very long overdue, i've been so busy. i hope this is okay though lovey.

after he told you those special words, confessing his undying love to you and how much he cared, you didn’t know what to say. woonhak was your best friend in the entire solar system. even alien marshians couldn’t have a relationship as close as what the two of you have.

which is why it was even harder to let him down like this. it was impossible for you to give him the love he deserved when you had so much shit going on in your head. the situation made tears sting your eyes, as you had to watch his loving face drop to an unreadable expression.

this was a roadblock in your friendship, because even after you tried to get things to go back to normal, he couldn’t face you quite the same.

you figured it was about time to have a conversation with him about what has been bothering you, but it makes you sick to even think about. because even if you told him, he might not understand.

it made you feel even more selfish when jaehyun had to ask you what happened between you guys, and why woonhak hasn’t come out of his room for some time. how his normally bright and cheery demeanor was suddenly cold and distant.

this made you realize that you had to talk to him about things. to clear it up and make it right. you were sick and tired of letting him believe you weren’t also madly in love with him.

taesan snuck you into their dorms late at night, there was a soft glow from the cracks of woonhak’s door that shown down the hall. you thanked him profusely before making your way to his room and knocking on the door.

“jaehyun leave the food at the door.” he groaned out.

“woon it’s me, y/n. let me in please?” you found yourself almost begging,  hoping he’d open for you.

a short silence was interrupted by the sound of footsteps and the doorknob unlocking. you opened the door and followed in behind him. he looked tired, his eye bags more prominent and hair just slightly messier. if the thought of him ruining himself over your rejection broke your heart, this sight shattered it.

“do you need something? it’s kinda late you usually don’t come over until the day.” he mumbles.

“we need to talk about this. talk about us..” 

“there’s nothing wrong with us y/n, we’re best friends remember?” he tried to reassure you.

“that’s the problem woon, i hate seeing you like this knowing that you have feelings for me and–”

“it’s over y/n, just let it go.” he interrupts, falling backwards into the comfort of his bed. you lay next to him and stare up at the ceiling.

“i hate seeing you know you have feelings for me and i like you too, but there’s so much shit going on in my life that i don’t think you deserve to deal with that.” you exhale, feeling a weight be lifted off of your shoulders. theres a dip in the mattress when woonhak quickly gets up to lean on his arm.

“wait you like me back?”

“i might’ve loved you for longer than you’ve loved me, woon. it killed me to reject you but i knew i had to.”

“y/n.. you know how much i care about you, i’d do anything to help you.” his gaze softened at your eyes visibly starting to tear up.

“it’s so hard woon, i can’t do it by myself but you already have so much on your plate.” you sniff, wiping your eyes with your sleeve.

“you mean the most to me y/n. even if we stayed friends, i wouldn’t be able to see you hurting like this and not break my back trying to help you.” you giggled at his comment.

he took his hand to wipe the tears that fell from your face, you whispered a small ‘thank you.’

“let me take you on a date. maybe we can forget about all these hard things together? and even if things get more difficult i’m right here with you.”

“thank you.. i’m sorry i made things so hard for you. you look like shit.” you joke between stuffy nosed laughs.

“don’t forget you made me look like shit, how was i ever supposed to stop loving you?” he pouts.

“trick question, you were never supposed to stop. because i love you too.” 

“i didn’t want to make an effort to try the impossible anyways.” woonhak smiled at you, fixing the hair that clung to the wet patches on your face before kissing your tears away, “let’s feel better together, yeah?”

© 2023 minkkumaz, all rights reserved support your writers by reblogging + giving feedback! it is greatly encouraged and appreciated. thank you! → why feedback + reblogging is so important. ~ (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ if you'd like, donate to minkkumaz !

#⋆｡˚ my works #boynextdoor #boynextdoor fluff #boynextdoor fanfic #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor woonhak #woonhak #kim woonhak #woonhak fluff #woonhak x reader #kim woonhak fluff #woonhak angst #kim woonhak angst #kim woonhak x reader #boynextdoor drabbles #boynextdoor scenarios #boynextdoor x reader

[rustyregion]

NOTHING CAN SAVE US

Hey, do you guys remember that one time Miraculous did something decent?

Look, I don’t want to be mean but ffs, the Shattered Dreams AU is abhorrently bitter when it comes to how it treats its characters that I’ve just decided to do a bunch of mental gymnastics and completely modify how the personalities work in the multiverse’s own rules because I want to look at this AU with anything other than confusion. Also, before anything, just because I don’t like it doesn’t mean everyone else can’t, this is my opinion

I’m extremely pissed at Nightmare’s portrayal here, because it not only makes him incredibly inconsistent, but it also makes passive Nightmare seem like more of an ass than the original corrupted fucking Nightmare. All this just because you need him to change teams. Making Passive and Corrupted the same being while simultaneously keeping the relationship with Dream pretty much the same (ergo, being the best brothers ever and later being mortal enemies on only one end) is ridiculously damaging to how Nightmare is as a whole because my guy cannot learn a lesson until his brother essentially kills his sanity for him. Also if you gave that much of a shit about Dream from day 1 then why the hell were you trying to kill him until the second apple incident?

So,, since we’re taking extremely dark tropes here I decided that I want Shattered to act childish and make him believe that damaging everything he has been protecting until now is the only way for Nightmare to like him. The whole inconsistency with the apples I would fix by doing the exact same as the original, but Dream eats a golden apple instead. We literally have no information (specially back then) about what the inverse apple incident would look like,, so just say the golden apples had the same goddamn effect but with positivity and make Shattered a personality that’s not your average emo classmate from middle school. To fix Nightmare you have to rewrite the entire timeline, so just leave him like that but make him a redemption arc or just let everyone know the hypocritical cunt he is idk. Anything but make him revert back to square 1 with no consequences please

I’m done talking about this multiverse and I really don’t want anyone to hate on the creator of it, because this was obviously not made with malicious intentions. That being said, it also doesn’t make it immune to criticism. Nothing is,not even me, but criticism isn’t equal to hatedumping and honestly, if you have any arguments in favor of this multiverse PLEASE let me know because I really want to like it. (Plus most of the problems I have with it comes from the fanon Nightmare not the AU itself but whatever)

Dreamtale belongs to JokuBlog

Shattered Dreams MV belongs to Galacii-Gallery (I think?)

The original scene is from Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and ChatNoir (Shadybug Special)

#dreamtale #dream sans #underverse #fanart #nightmare sans #undertale alternate universe #undertale #underverse fanart #utmv #shattered dream

[artheresy]

Okay listen, I got sick while at work so I’m in a bit of a delirium idk the word for it whatever, this is what I get for thinking about Blade. The brainworms impacted by immune system /j

Anyways, I’m wondering again about the extent of his immortality and healing. So we get in his hairpin relic lore that his body is perpetually healing wounds that are far too gone to actually be healed, like his hands. We get this line “sharp and distinct with phantom pain” and then this entire paragraph describing it “Like the incessantly flowing stream of a mountain spring, his long black hair never ceased growing. His flesh twitched and throbbed beneath his skin, like river carps flipping and swarming... Fascinating powers ceaselessly reconstructed his body, bringing an everlasting pain of bones and tendons rupturing and healing. As countless phantom agonies and torments tore through his body, his shattered past was also beginning to come together...”

And yet we still see him like die from injuries so clearly, it’s working very very slowly in his body to repair him. Perhaps when he actually fully dies, that power within his body redirects the focus it uses to just generally keep him alive and heal parts of himself that cannot be fully healed to bring him back to life. Hence why he wakes up so far even if there is a pause, a moment of actual rest and peace before he is alive once more.

Now, again we’ve only seen him die via stab wounds and I have that whole other post wondering the extent to which one of Ren’s body parts would theoretically be cut off and how exactly his body would heal that, whether it heals before the limb is entirely cut off so its at least somewhat connected thus making the entire healing process occur properly even with difficulty or if it would literally grow him a whole new arm like a restoration/regeneration type of situation, or if (this wasn’t in the post but) if the injury is treated so he doesn’t die from blood loss which would be the fatality more som would he just like… be without an arm forever? Until he dies next and his body fixes that? I mean I think in terms of non fatal wounds he seems to have a slower healing like I said and then when he’s actually dead, the body focuses on healing the exact area in which he was fatally wounded. And yeah yeah we won’t get this explored much because Hyv is gonna keep things PG-13 and won’t show us any blood anyways

My actual wondering is, I wonder how poisons specifically affect Blade especially just given how different poisons can act. If it’s a slow acting poison, can his body just filter it out with its already slow healing rate? Would he still die if he was slowly poisoned and only then will his body be cleansed of it? Surely he would actually die from something super fast acting right? I mean we already established that Ren’s body slowly heals him and only speeds up when he’s dead. If he has a poison that acts instantaneously, surely he would die and then come back from it after his body has cleansed it from his system with its whole abundance thing.

Or theoretically, does that Abundance power already cancel out poisons working at all and it has to be an intensely violent way that he dies? Perhaps even in his special case, he’d be an exception where it would affect him and then he’d be healed since we know he’s not like on 100% the same level as the marastruck soldiers we fight due to whatever else is causing his immortality (probably the dragon heart or whatever it is) canceling it out so that they both work in tandem with each other. But anyways yeah like, I need to know so badly the different ways Blade’s power (and in general the power of the Abundance) works when faced with all kinds of different methods of killing him.

Also, I wonder how his body is with substances that aren’t lethal in smaller doses but then can be fatal in bigger amounts, things that when they get to that level are considered poisoning like Alcohol and alcohol poisoning and stuff. Could Ren hypothetically get drunk if he drinks a lot? Would his body just clean it out of him overtime naturally getting him sober, presumably at a faster route than normal people? Would he even be able to get drunk? What I said about his body getting him sober faster, would that even happen if its a non-fatal amount of alcohol or would his tolerance to alcohol be solely based on his build?

I dunno there are stupid questions that will literally never ever ever come up in terms of HSR’s story, we won’t see any of this stuff at least answered on screen but doubtfully at all. I’m just so interested in the way Blade’s healing works and I hope I get some kind of idea in order to explore it at some point.

#he is so full of potential analyzing #from his personality to his past to his physiology #i love him #brainworms about him got me sick tho so /j #is this bc I joked with Pink about bullying him? #is he getting back at me with a vengeance? #...until your sin is cleanse my vengeance shall pursue you... #Am I on the end of that rn? #Hsr #Honkai star rail #Hsr blade

[blackjackkent]

The guards inside the creche entrance round on them with startling rapidity the moment they show their faces.

"Sentries! To arms!" one of them snaps. Her eyes fix on Rakha in a sharp glare like that which she has often seen in Lae'zel's expression. "Istik. State your purpose - quickly."

"Stand down, gish," Lae'zel snaps back, equally sharp. "Is it not Vlaakith's command to welcome her faithful?"

"I expected no visitors, faithful or otherwise," the guard says coolly. "Why have you come?"

Rakha's eyes narrow warily. The antagonistic tone sends a flicker of irritation through her, something that could easily spiral into something more. But for Lae'zel's sake, she keeps her tone even with an effort of will. "I was infected by an illithid," she says. Little point in dancing around the subject; Lae'zel has made it clear that this is something the gith know of already - along with how to deal with it. "And was told to seek a githyanki creche."

She waits for the gish to direct them - but instead, the other woman's eyes widen and her mouth sets in a thin line.

"You are infected?" She spits the word out like a curse. "A ghaik thrall is something to eradicate, not reason with."

Her hand is already going towards her sword, and Rakha feels her pulse start to thump in her temple with the sense of impending battle. But Lae'zel's voice cuts across the moment, shattering it.

"The faithful may be purified!" she snaps. "This is Vlaakith's protocol!"

(A/N: I remember being a little baffled by this on my first playthrough - that Lae'zel seems so confident about this while it seems like literally every other githyanki clearly already knows the score. It makes sense for Voss to be like 'nah actually you're gonna die' - he's already rebelling against Vlaakith - but even this random guard goes straight past the cleansing concept and straight to 'time to eradicate this thrall.'

I find it kind of interesting tbh.

On the one hand - clearly this is partly a manifestation of how young Lae'zel is under all that confidence. The implication seems to be that yeah, it's hammered into you in your training that you need to report to a ghustil and get "purified" if you're ever infected, but that once you're actually out on duty it becomes an open secret that "purification" is just another word for death; Lae'zel just didn't happen to get that far before the nautiloid picked her up.

However - this leads to other questions. How are there not more rebels, if it's common to reach a point where you realize the purification lie is nonsense? What is the party line within these more adult units? Alternatively - is K'liir unique (and uniquely cruel) in framing it as a salvation, and every other creche treats it like a necessary sacrifice on behalf of the greater group?

IDK, I'm getting rambly here but it's intriguing to ponder. The whole creche sequence, if I'm honest, isn't always entirely clear in its writing, but if some of the minor holes are extrapolated I think it gets kind of interesting. :D )

The guard stares at Lae'zel for a long moment, reading her expression very carefully. Then she nods slowly, her lip curling with evident disdain. "Chk. Fine. Let the ghustil carry out your fate. Report to the infirmary at once."

Her eyes move over Rakha and the others briefly, then back to Lae'zel. "And step carefully. Creche Y'llek watches you."

-----

"She did not expect us to request purification," Rakha mutters matter-of-factly as they walk on further into the creche.

"I know," Lae'zel says curtly.

"You said it was a protocol. A standard procedure."

"It is," Lae'zel hisses. "That she did not honor it is no fault of mine."

"Voss also did not."

"Voss is a traitor. Should I find him again, I shall feed him pieces of his own skull."

Rakha tries hard to ignore the way the beast in her head shivers at this mental image. "But why do they deny it?"

"I don't know!" Lae'zel snaps at her; her voice whips out like a weapon, sharp as the blade on her back. "These inane questions serve nothing. Let us find the ghustil and finish matters."

#bjk plays bg3 durge #rakha the dark urge #bjk writes her own party banter #poor lae'zel is trying so hard and the whole thing just comes crashing down around her ears #and rakha is trying so hard to *believe* her and *trust* her and everyone's going to get bitten as a result #solid tragedy lol

[cookinguptales]

I feel weird about Nandor's behaviour, like it's such a regression? I know being thoughtlessly cruel is his whole brand but I feel like since the beginning of s4 he's been shown to be more attentive to Guillermo (I even told myself he's growing from being a dumb asshole into just a dumbass). But yeah ep 9 reverted all that, which is very disappointing. And tbh I don't think this Nandor deserves Guillermo at all, which Idk how to feel about ;(

It's funny. I've seen a lot of people saying this about Nandor, but he actually felt fairly on-brand for me. He did something horrific, but didn't realize that it was. Like I think he genuinely wasn't trying to hurt Guillermo, didn't realize he was, and when he figured it out, he tried (ineffectively) to fix it. If anything, I think he was just written as too dumb in this episode. That might be the real issue here.

I think the disconnect here is that this feels uniquely awful to the audience and to Guillermo. It just doesn't feel that way to Nandor. And I think that's the only reason why it doesn't totally ruin his character for me. It feels more like when he gave that glitter portrait to Guillermo, you know? We as the audience know that Guillermo was devastated and we were kind of devastated for him, but Nandor thought he was being a nice guy the whole time. He didn't understand how forgetting how long Guillermo had been there or making him think he'd get turned was cruelty.

I think the thing is that Freddie, like Marwa, was just a shiny to Nandor. I think Guillermo realized that, which is why he was so clear that this was his first and only boyfriend. This isn't like Marwa to him. Freddie was important. But I'm not sure that's something that Nandor could fully understand, even after Guillermo explained it to him. I think Guillermo might be the only person he's ever loved like that, so Guillermo putting it into terms of dating (so he thinks "like Marwa", so he thinks "collect them all, like wives") instead of truly losing someone you care about still just didn't get through Nandor's thick skull.

So him manipulating Freddie didn't feel any different than repeatedly changing Marwa to him. He never conceptualized it as taking anything from Guillermo because he didn't understand that the physical person wasn't the issue, it was the relationship they had built up together. (Fully hammered home by him then trying to give his own Freddie to Guillermo like a replacement goldfish.)

When Guillermo was sad, suddenly having this new shiny wasn't fun anymore and he sent him on his way -- with lots of crocodile tears of course. He still didn't even get why he did it.

To me, Nandor's actions didn't feel that odd to me. What felt much weirder was the way the writers approached this. It wasn't Nandor's cruelty that I found off-putting; it was the writers'. It was the meanest thing they've ever done in the show by far, and I can see why it crossed a personal line for so many viewers. Like that last scene! Guillermo going all the way to London to try and win his boyfriend back, only to see him cheating on him with his fucking clone. That was the writers' decision, not Nandor's. And an episode ending with Guillermo's genuine and shattering heartbreak was just a bridge too far for a lot of viewers. I get that.

(Side note: Harvey has been given some shit scripts this season but boy is he acting the hell out of them.)

Moreover, the way that the writers also didn't seem to realize that what was happening to Marwa was fucked up alarmed me a lot more than Nandor not realizing it.

Nandor is dumb and selfish and his dumbness makes him cruel. Okay. I get that. But what's the writers' excuse for all this? Why did they think we'd want to see this or find it funny? Why didn't they realize the implications of what they were doing? That's what I find more troubling in the long run...

As for Nandor "deserving" Guillermo... I mean, he's always been a dick who didn't deserve good things. Guillermo is also a terrible person who doesn't deserve good things. I think Guillermo might actually be the cruelest person on the show, and I stand by that. Like say what you will about Nandor, he never purposefully infiltrated "loser" spaces and made lonely people think they'd finally found a friend just so he could murder them and make fun of how nerdy they were to camera right after. Guillermo is so fucking mean! I wouldn't be surprised if he even made some people think they might be losing that virginity of theirs when he brought them home. Like why else would he be asking about it!

Guillermo is outwardly sweet, but he can be very selfish and cruel, just like Nandor. I think we forget that sometimes because he's so kind to the vampires. Really, though, I actually think they deserve each other. lmao. Nandor is Guillermo's karma for how awful he is to other people. (And really, I think Freddie would have picked up on that eventually... and I still think that would've been a much more interesting direction to take things...)

#boy this one got long #replies #nandermo #wwdits tag #wwdits s4 spoilers

[xanuchi]

Hi! If u dont mind can u write the pomefiore trio with an s/o who has a demonic sneeze idk if this made sense but i thought it would be funny 😭😭

LMAOA TIME FOR ANOTHER ONE YOU LIL GREMLINS 🔫🔫🔥🔥 I CNAT I JUST IMAGINED THIS IN MY HEAD TOO SOFJEKFK&/a/&:@/&;

i have so many ideas for thisJkksskkdd !1!:&2@:& (;´༎ຶٹ༎ຶ`)!!! but ty for requesting i had fun with this, darling <3 !!

masterlist

characters included ; vil, rook, epel 🌹🏹🍎

vil schoenheit ; 🌹

First of all, what the fuck— and second of all.

How the fuck???

Vil was causally doing his makeup when he was about to pick up his brush to blend the contour. However when reaching for the lipstick, you sneezed like a fucking elephant.

HE FLINCHED BACK SO HARD HIS LIPSTICK TRACKED OFF HIS LIPS, SMEARING OFF THE EDGE AND NOW HE LOOKS LIKE A CLOWN. 🤡🤡🤡

He turns around so immediately, almost in tears as he felt his heart fucking drop from how colossal the sneeze was and how demonic it sounded

IT WAS DEAD SILENT TOO-

Vil thought a demon had somewhat possessed you and would probably fuckin' call Pope Francis to exorcise your soul iN thE naMe of thE fATheR, sOn aNd the hOLy fuCkIng spiRIT—

Nonetheless he laughs afterwards, but frowns at how he has to start all over again over the bottom half of his face.

Probably would grab the lipstick and ruin your face with it. Though, you both end up laughing, and it's very wholesome at the end of the day.

You owe him the next few weeks ahead for that satanic response of a sneeze. also for ruining his makeup-

rook hunt ; 🏹

Honestly, this man wouldn't fucking flinch.

He's not scared of anything, and if anything beyond doubt, you should be scared of him.

Rook looks at you the moment you let out the most satanic shit of a sneeze, ever known to mankind.

......

"Non non, let me show you how it's done."

🧍 ...

RUN FUCKIGNG RUGKRKCJ RUN BITCH— 🏃🏃💨💨💨💨

Proceeds to sneeze so fuckin loudly that you become paralysed with your eardrums bursting in the process, the glass panes of Pomefiore have shattered and wildlife has scattered. Assert your dominance, dear Rook.

epel felmier ; 🍎

Laying on the grass, wind softly blowing strands of hair outside Pomefiore's dorm.

Apple trees bloom beautifully above you both. Everything seemed so serene and peaceful.. and Epel loved these moments between you two. It was always perfect, where for once he'd not have Vil nagging and constantly having him at his very edge, every single day about perfecting his stance, looks, voice and everything else.

He falls asleep..

*Insert the most FUCKING LOUDEST SNEEZE HE HAS EVER HEARD, HEART DROPPED DEAD AND THERE ARE AIR RAID SIRENS 🚨🚨🚨‼️‼️EQUIVALENT TO YOUR SNEEZE, DAD SNEEZES, ELEPHANT NOISES. 🐘🐘🐘💨 ALL OF THE ABOVE.*

shawty, you good?

He ends up punching the fuck out of the air and suddenly his fist reached your nose.

"ARGH;; W-WHO THE HELL— oh.."

HE PANICS SO MUCH&;@@(@4@(@;&

"O-Oh my gosh- (Name), I'm so sorry- What the hell was that noise? You know what, forget it— Let's go to the infirmary. Oh god i'm so sorry, i'm so sorr—"

He is mumbling apologies as he reached for the bandages and tries to fix your broken nose bUT THERES MORE BLOOddd JSJDJWKDJ

He panics more.

Suddenly realises that cry of satan was your sneeze.

He doesn't know whether to laugh- or cry because you have a manlier sneeze than he does- And the babey sneezes like a kitten.

Honey, why do you do this to him—?

heldpej I couldn't stop cackling at this imagining circus vil bye IM GONE IM ASCENDING 🏃💨💨

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfiction #twisted wonderland x reader #headcanons #x reader #fiction #vil schoenheit #rook hunt #rook headcanons #vil x mc #rook x mc #epel felmier #epel x reader

[yourlocalrodent]

hey do you write cheating angst?if you do can you write where Eddie cheats on reader and they get into a fight?

Yep! I do write that stuff!

Max turned her head over, the screaming of her neighbours getting louder. What possibly could her neighbour Eddie have done now? They have been fighting for the past few days. It was clear to max that her neighbours relationship was coming to an end. At Eddie’s trailer

“ WHY THE FUCK DID YOU DO IT! FUCKING TELL ME” you screamed looking at his/her/their once beloved boyfriend “ MAYBE YOU SHOULD HAVE SPENT MORE TIME WITH ME” he grabbed your arm pulling you towards him “ oh! I’m the bad guy! Yep! Ha!” You sarcastically remarked “ maybe you should focus more of your schooling so you can Graduate instead OF FUCKING YOUR CLASS MATES BEHIND MY BA-” he shoved his hand over your mouth “ if you don’t get over it I will kick you out.” He didn’t mean what he said. He loved you! But he’d get drunk a lot and you’re always busy and he missed you. It was a shitty way to fix it though. You bit his hand to make him let go and have him this look “ listen buddy, I got kicked out of my house, risked my education and life FOR YOU. My parents didn’t like you so they kicked me out! And THIS is how I get treated! I might aswell move back in with my parents!” You looked at him dead in the eyes too. Eddie scoffed “ fine do that then” your heart truly shattered that moment, you risked your entire future for him. Your dreams for him. But this is how your heart crumbles(like Chrissy) you were willing to forgive him. You truly were. But now he can get fucked. You ran into the room of which had so many memories, were you lost your virginity, we’re you slept most nights and much more, but that’s down the drain now, all of it is. You grabbed your bags then grabbed your clothes and other things . You had to leave the gifts he got you. You couldn’t bare looking at them. He had gone out to go see his little club again so you were ‘home’ alone again. You finished packing and headed to the living room where the phone hung upon the wall. Dialling your parents number your mother picked up “ hey m-mum” you sniffled “ oh are you here to try and fix our relationship again” she scoffed “ no mum. I wanna come home” she gasped “ w-wait why?” “ it’s hard mum, I just need to come home” she sighed “ okay hunny I’ll tell your father your coming back home” “ thanks mum” and with that you hung up. Wayne walked in. “What’s wrong kiddo?” He asked “ your nephew cheating is what’s wrong, his face said it all “ I’ll give him a earful, where’s the little shit?” He asked sternly “ at hellfire” you reply he grabbed the phone and called the hellfire number (idk okay) “ you young man are coming back home this moment!” You looked up “ no I don’t care if you don’t want to. I am so beyond angry with you you little cunt” and he slammed the phone back onto the wall “ go back to your parents kid, I’ll call you when he comes back” he pat your shoulder “ thanks mr Munson”

at your parents place

“ I’m so sorry hunny we warned you” your dad sighed “ but! It’s not fair! I risked everything for him!” You cried “ we know sweetie we know” when all of a sudden the phone rang, you answered “ hello?” It was Wayne “ hey kid it’s me, he’s here and he seems like he wants to see you” you rolled your eyes “ okay thanks uncle” “ no problem kid” you hung up grabbing your keys turning back to your parents “ I gotta go” and just like that you left

#corroded coffin #eddie munson #gareth stranger things x reader #stranger things season four #stranger things #joseph quinn #Angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #cheating #heartbreak #x reader #ask #Eddie Munson X reader #stranger things x reader

[taeyeonschild]

Make It All Better

pairing: bf!Lee Felix x gn!Reader

genre: fluff? idk??? maybe angst?

contains: just felix making a bad day better

A/N: this is the first thing i’ve ever written for tumblr, so i hope it’s decent… please enjoy. i’m actually obsessed with felix at the moment, so he’s the only thing my brain will allow me to write about..

i’m not super used to writing about real people like this? and i NEVER write in 2nd person POV… so i’m not sure how this will work out. but if you enjoy, please interact!!!

alexa, play: “falling in love” - cigarettes after sex

Sometimes you have bad days. Everyone gets them, but the second Felix gets home from work, he always makes everything better.

————————

That’s why, today, after your exhausting day at work, you just couldn’t wait for your boyfriend to get home, and fix everything.

You sit on the couch in your small apartment, scrolling endlessly on your phone. Your brain is blank, other than one thought:

“When is he coming home?”

You’ve spent the entire day on the verge of tears.. Between your coworkers yelling at you for every little mistake, dropping your sandwich on the floor in the lunch room, and the bathroom running out of toilet paper, you had no time to relax.

You just need to hold off a few more minutes, till he will walk through that door, and make everything okay.

The silence of the empty apartment surrounds you, making your wait even more painful. The ticking of your clock rings in your ears, and you count the seconds until you aren’t alone anymore.

Finally, your boredom has come to an end, when you hear keys in the door. He’s home!! You hop up from the mold you left in the cushion, and wrap your arms around his neck before he even has the chance to walk through the door.

“Hello angel.” He happily chirps. You cling onto him, as he wobbles his way into the apartment. The stress from today finally makes it’s way out, and you can’t help the tears that begin to escape.

Felix’s happy expression immediately changes to concern and worry. He gently pries you off of him, so that he can look into you eyes.

“What’s wrong darling? Did something happen?”

Arms wrap around your waist, as he holds you ever so gently in his hands, like you are a fragile glass sculpture. Like any wrong movement could shatter you into pieces.

“Just a really bad day. That’s all.” Exhaustion from your long day drains you from your voice, you can now only speak in whispers.

He doesn’t need to use any words to tell you he’s listening, his hand slowly rubbing your back, and the other one massaging through your hair tells you enough.

“I’ll make it all better, don’t you worry,”

and he already has.

#felix #felix x reader #stray kids drabbles #felix drabbles #lee felix #kpop #stray kids #drabble #first writing #skz imagines #felix imagines #skz oneshots #felix oneshot #felix fluff #skz #skz fluff

[callsign-bunnie]

I know it's too early and maybe too demanding to ask,

but are you planning on doing a part 2 in the Story where Rodolfo got Tortured and is now scared of Alejandro.

Because omfg it's so good

This is a part 2 to this post.

--

Alejandro hadn't been to see Rodolfo since they'd gotten him back. Graves hadn't cracked once on how to fix him. Ghost had tortured him almost to death and all he'd done was laugh.

Alejandro was desperate. Soap had had considered exposure therapy. Explaining that Alejandro was safe and Graves was the bad one but the problem was that Rodolfo knew Graves was bad.

He didn't need to be convinced of that. But, he'd been convinced that Alejandro had paid Graves off to do it. Some kind of punishment, though no one could quite get out what the exact reason was. Rodolfo was back to his quiet, unrevealing self.

Alejandro needed proof of the truth. But, Graves wouldn't reveal it. He had no idea what he was going to do. He briefly considered Valeria but... he had no idea if she'd go the opposite direction and make it worse.

Alejandro felt like he was in some sick hell, forced to live through his worst nightmare. Somehow, this was worse than Rodolfo dying. Rodolfo thought he was a horrible monster.

"Hey. He's... asked to talk to you." Soap came in, frowning. "Um... he's adamant about it."

Hope filled Alejandro's chest. He stood. "Okay." He said, immediately, and followed Soap to Rodolfo's room.

He stopped when he got to the door, now anxious. What if Rodolfo screamed again? He looked at Soap, who winced and shrugged, gesturing a little to the door. Alejandro nodded and opened it, going into the room.

Rodolfo tensed as soon as he entered the room. Alejandro's heart shattered at the sight of him. He looked so small and fragile... Alejandro's eyes didn't miss the bandaging on his wrist either. "Rudy..." He softened.

Rodolfo looked away. "Why did you do it?"

"What?" Alejandro frowned, confused.

"Why?? Why did you have him do that to me??" Rodolfo cried, suddenly. "I was nothing but completely loyal to you and you just... sold me like that!"

"No!" Alejandro immediately shook his head, though he was smart enough to not go closer. "No, Rudy, please believe me. I... I tried every day to get you out but I couldn't... God, believe me, please... every day was sheer hell and I'm still going through it."

Rodolfo didn't look like he believed it at all. "I could hear you on the phone. Giving him orders. Telling him what to do. Did you get off on it?!" He looked distraught.

Alejandro shook his head. "Rodolfo, I never gave orders!" He tried to find some way to get Rodolfo to believe him.

Rodolfo broke down into sobs. "Why are you lying to me?! I know! You can't deny it! I could hear you!"

Alejandro could only feel his heart shatter more. "Rudy... I am begging you to believe me... I can't... I..." He took a careful step forward.

Rodolfo tensed more, but he didn't stop him. "I tried so hard... I did everything right... and you did this to me... Why?! What did I do?!"

Alejandro stopped at the foot of Rodolfo's bed. "I will do anything... Any way I can prove it to you..." He begged. "I did not do this..."

Rodolfo sniffled. "I..." He seemed to pause, clearly not expecting Alejandro to say that. "I want to see Valeria. If she... if she says you're telling the truth then... then I will believe you."

"Rodolfo, she's going to lie-"

"I said what I wanted!" Rodolfo yelled and Alejandro jerked back. Rodolfo covered his face and sobbed again. Alejandro quickly left.

Soap frowned. "How did it go?"

"He... doesn't believe me... He wants Valeria." Alejandro whispered. "She's not going to tell him the truth."

"We will talk to her." Soap nodded.

Alejandro snorted. He wasn't convinced.

--

Part 3? Idk, if someone asks, I'll do it.

#Alejandro Vargas #Rodolfo Parra #Alejandro x Rodolfo #Aledolfo #Call Of Duty: Modern Warfare II #Call Of Duty #angst

[paintedkinzy-88]

Chara and Classis Sans have an... interesting dynamic. Like, it feels like Chara actually does kinda care about Sans but refuses to admit it and vice versa. Is that intentional?

Yesssss! Chara wants to care about everyone, now that they get this happy ending, but they’ve got a bit of a… grudge against Sans. That’s more than just the frustration of how many times he’s killed them. It was something I was gonna explore a bit more later, but in the interest of getting my thoughts back on track… idk have a look into my Chara Thought Process why not—

In Let’s Try This Again, Chara and Classic get to have a lil moment together. Chara specifically TELLS him part of why they dislike him: “Out of all the monsters I’ve met, you’re the most annoying. You know too much and either don’t say anything about it, as if the issue will just go away, or you rub it in my face.”

They were trying to put out an olive branch, after the whole thing with Red kinda reminded them of their own bio family. But when Sans later followed up with, “Ain’t really a way to fix any of that, maybe. But, then again … it never really happened in the first place, now, did it?” all while smiling almost cheekily, Chara only saw that as more deflecting. Ignoring the problem and pretending it never happened, when it so clearly did. So they left, pissed again.

Chara doesn’t like lying. They’re very straightforward, tell it as it is, no bullshit kinda character in Winged. Keeping everything from everyone, especially those closest to them, is annoying. And it’ll come out eventually, so they’d rather it be on their own terms than from some trauma induced freak out from one of them or, now, one of these stupid alternate people slipping up one day (they’re specifically looking at Ink or Red). I mean, imagine getting a second chance to live with your family, but they’re not allowed to know you’re there? It sucks, they hate it, and Sans was the one to suggest they keep it all a secret. Frisk agreed, albeit a bit reluctantly. Chara didn’t, but they kinda got lumped in cuz it was their only option to stop this constant battle.

They don’t want to hide, they don’t want to pretend all the likely years worth of resets and killing and sparing and emotions and memories and trauma just never happened. And the fact that Sans doesn’t even want to talk about it with them, Frisk and Chara and Flowey, the only people of his world that understand?? (And then have the AUDACITY to be able to go talk about it OPENLY with countless other skeletons this whole damn time when the three of them couldn’t???) They can’t help but hate him for it.

In their mind, he’s holding them back. A happy ending is useless if one of them is still denied true freedom, forever kept on a leash, cuz Sans doesn’t want this perfect peace to shatter. He doesn’t trust his family to not “overreact,” (similarly to what kept him from telling anyone about his wings,) and he doesn’t trust Chara period.

#Sans does care about Chara! Just #reluctantly and uh #similar to how one may care about a feral cat #he wants them to be ok but doesn’t trust them not to fuck everything up #ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ #I like their dynamic #it’s just #very very strained #and understandably so #asks #undertale #undertale multiverse #winged au #Classic sans #Classic!sans #undertale sans #undertale Chara

[drabbles-mc]

Over and Over and Over Again

Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff

Fic for @the-slumberparty Week 3 Challenge: Something New. The trope I got was time loop!

Warnings: 18+, blood/injury, canon-typical violence, angst, hurt/comfort, technically character death??? it's a time loop idk if it still counts lol

Word Count: 6.5k

A/N: Sooo just like the challenge title says, this was very much something new for me! I've never written a time loop fic so I hope this came out alright. I've been wanting to write more for Bucky and Nat and this felt like a good opportunity for that. Hope you enjoy! xo

MCU Taglist: @garbinge @artemiseamoon (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

He came-to, rattled by the pervasive feeling that he’d just been falling. His heart was racing in his chest, breathing labored which had him wondering if he really had fallen. His limbs felt heavy, and he could feel the sweat and grime on his face. The more he registered everything around him, the more familiar it all felt. The problem was, that though it felt familiar, it also felt wrong.

He finally made a point to look around the room he was in. It was abandoned, filthy, and almost completely empty. Craning his neck, he looked upward and was met with the sight of a shattered skylight. That would explain the falling sensation that had ripped through him.

Everything in his body felt just a little out of alignment. He went to roll his shoulders when he caught a glimpse of his arm and froze. That wasn’t right. He hadn’t been branded with a red star on his metal arm in years. That part of his life was long since over.

Once he realized that, all the other realizations came in rapid succession. He felt the mask covering the lower half of his face, his long hair stuck to the back of his neck with sweat. It was all wrong. He was all wrong. And he was wrong in a way that he hadn’t ever felt before, and until that moment he thought that he had felt every single kind of wrong there was. This was a body he no longer belonged in, a part of his life he had completely moved on from. He knew that because the rage that came with this body, the lack of control, none of that was there. He didn’t know what was happening, or why, but he wanted it to be over.

Reaching up, he went to tear the mask off his face, but it wouldn’t budge. The more he fought against it, the harder it became to breathe, one problem feeding right into the other. For all the mental control he had now, there was nothing he could do about the physical. He was stuck like this, in whatever place he was in, until he figured out how to undo it. Fix whatever was broken.

Once his breathing was as normal as it was going to get, he reached down and grabbed the large gun off the floor, slinging it across his body with ease before heading to the door that would lead him to the rest of the building.

He carefully made his way into the hall, scanning and his hand ready to reach for the handgun strapped to his thigh. He could hear chaos and gunfire outside. None of the voices were distinct enough to clue him into wherever the hell he was. Wherever it was, it wasn’t Brooklyn, that was for damn sure.

There were only two flights of stairs left between him and the exit when he heard another set of footsteps, these ones too close for comfort. He grabbed his handgun, flipping the safety off as the footsteps got closer. Whoever it was, was coming up the stairs towards him.

Then he saw her, the first real shred of relief he had in the center of this whole mess. He lowered his gun as he looked at her. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one who had been thrown into a past version of themselves.

Natasha had gone through countless looks over the years to go with her countless identities. He’d know her no matter what though. She couldn’t see it, but there was a small smile of relief on Bucky’s face as he continued down the stairs closer to her.

“Nat,” he said, his voice slightly distorted between the mask and the fact that he still hadn’t really caught his breath. He went to holster his handgun as he spoke. “I’m so—"

He was cut off by her shooting at him. He brought his metal arm up just in time to keep from getting shot in the head. His reflexes weren’t failing him yet. Even so, he couldn’t hide the shock on his face, in his eyes, at what was happening.

Bucky tried to think logically, but it was difficult when she was trying to put a bullet between his eyes. Maybe she didn’t really think it was him. Maybe she was just as lost and confused and assuming the worst. After all, Black Widow and The Winter Soldier didn’t have nearly the same kind of rapport or relationship as Natasha and Bucky. Two different sets of people, two different sets of lifetimes. He just had to prove to her that it was him.

Every moment they’d ever shared was running through his brain at warp-speed, but he couldn’t articulate any of them as he blocked each blow she tried to land. He couldn’t get any words out as he watched the rage in Natasha’s eyes, an anger that hadn’t been directed at him in so long, he almost forgot what it looked like.

He had been so focused on the intense look that he almost didn’t hear that she was talking. She wasn’t talking to him, even though she was looking at him. It took him more effort than he cared to admit to register what she was saying.

“Target acquired,” she grit out as she continued to try and take him down.

His heart plummeted into his stomach as he continued to try and fight her off. He still wasn’t trying to hurt her. He didn’t want to do that. The two of them had spent so many years at odds, through no fault of his own, and so many years after that rebuilding everything that was broken there. He didn’t want to go back on all of that now because of whatever new Hell he had been thrown into with her. He didn’t know if he would have it in him anymore.

So, he stayed on the defensive. He blocked and dodged and did whatever he could do not let her walk him down the last two flights of stairs. She was fighting with everything that she had, and it certainly wasn’t an easy fight for Bucky at this point either. It had been a long time since he felt so lost.

He deflected one of her punches, aggressively swiping her arm away. He pushed her, pinning her between his body and the unforgiving concrete wall behind her. He gripped her wrists, pinning her arms above her head, each movement rougher than he wanted it to be but there was nothing else he could do.

“Nat, it’s me,” he said desperately as she struggled against him.

Her expression didn’t soften at all at his pleading tone, no recognition in her eyes as the two of them continued to stare at each other. She took a deep breath, not breaking eye contact with him as she said, “I know,” before leveraging her weight against him, bringing her leg up and slamming her foot down on the top of his knee as hard as she could.

Bucky winced, his grip on her wrists loosening just enough for her to wrench one hand free. Bucky’s eyes went wide as he realized what she was doing. “Natasha please don’t—”

His words fell on deaf ears as she reached and grabbed one of the knives that he kept strapped to him. She brought her hand up and was about to bring the knife to his throat. Panic surged through him in a way that he thought he would never feel again. He didn’t know that he was still capable of feeling it. Sheer instinct took over, his body moving independently from his mind as he grabbed her wrist, cranking it harshly and turning it back on her, driving the blade directly into her chest.

They both fell to the floor in tandem, Bucky’s arms slipping around her as they both went down. He was making sure that her head didn’t smack off the concrete floor, like it would make any difference now, like she would even know why he was trying to show any shred of kindness.

He was trying to hold her, just as much for himself as for her, but with what little strength she still had left she was struggling against him. He kept apologizing over and over, trying not to think about the blood that was starting to drip from her body onto the floor. It didn’t stand out against her black clothing, but he could feel the tackiness of it beneath his fingers. The more he apologized, the more confused she looked.

“Natasha, please.” He reached for the blade that was jutting from her chest. “I’m so sorry.”

She reached up, her hand wrapping around his wrist. It would’ve been a vice grip if she hadn’t been bleeding out on the floor. He knew that. But for the moment, he was just soaking up the warmth that was bleeding from her palm into the thin strip of his wrist that was exposed. He could hear the footsteps getting closer as her grip got weaker. He didn’t even care about what was going to happen next.

Her hand fell to the floor, her body going limp in his arms at the same moment the door on the first floor got kicked in. He shut his eyes tight, dropping his forehead down so it rested against hers. He held onto her, waiting for the hits, the pain, everything that wasn’t coming.

Then he jolted awake on the cold concrete floor. He was gasping for breath as he lied there flat on his stomach. He coughed a few times, forcing himself up so that he was braced against his palms and his knees for a moment. Taking a deep breath, he stood upright, looking straight up at the ceiling. That’s when he saw the shattered skylight.

For a brief moment, he felt like he was going to throw up. He fought against it, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to pull the mask off his face. He tried to take a few deep breaths to try and steady himself, not that he was successful, not that they would do that much good anyway. None of it was making any sense.

He grabbed the gun off the floor again, and made his way to the door of the room again. Despite the fact that he’d done it before, he didn’t feel any more confident or in control as he walked out of the room and out into the hall. There was the same cacophony erupting outside as he made his way down the stairs. He stopped at the top of the same flight that he had last time, listening for what he now knew where Natasha’s footsteps. He was ready this time. Or, at least, he was as ready as he could try to be given the circumstances.

Then she was there. Just like before. He didn’t let himself get floored like he had the first time. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t let himself have any feeling of relief. He was only going to grant himself that when she recognized him. Which, with the way she was already firing her gun at him, clearly hadn’t happened yet.

They grappled, Bucky taking her to the floor in the hopes that it would make it easier to force her to stop for a second, to really look at him and listen to him. He just needed to make her really see him. If he could get her to set her rage aside for a moment, they might actually be able to get somewhere. He wondered how many times in the past someone had that same thought about him. He didn’t have the luxury of time to be able to think about it.

“You’re okay,” he grunted out as he fought to keep her pinned to the floor. “It’s me.” She was still struggling against him as he said, “It’s Bucky. I promise.”

Turning her hips slightly, she got him to shift just enough so that she could pull her one leg up, bringing her knee towards her chest for all of a moment before kicking him harshly right in the middle of his sternum, sending him backwards. Jumping up, she reached and pulled the other gun that she had holstered to her. She brought it up, firing one shot after another directly at his head, and he managed to block every single one. He almost didn’t want to, though.

He wondered for a brief moment if her killing him would be the only way to put him out of his misery. He didn’t want to keep doing this over and over again. He wasn’t strong enough for that kind of repetitive torture, not anymore. If him killing her didn’t do the trick, maybe her killing him would.

But then her gun ran out of bullets. Bucky knew for a fact that she had more ammo on her. In all the time he’d known her, Natasha had never gone anywhere underprepared. He found it curious, then, that she threw the gun off to the side and charged towards him. She was on him fast, and all Bucky could bring himself to do was shell up and try to block her blows. He was fighting every reflex that he had that was telling him to loft her off him and down the remainder of the stairs. He didn’t want that. He just wanted to get through to her.

The hits stopped for a moment. Pulling his arms away from his face so he could try to get a look at her, Bucky saw that she was, once again, reaching for the blade that he had on him. If there was a next time, he would be getting rid of that immediately. As it was, though, he allowed her to grab it and then promptly knocked it from her hand. It clattered against the concrete, both of them watching it for a moment before going back to looking at each other.

The anger in her eyes intensified as she grabbed the handgun from his thigh. Reaching up, he closed the hand of his metal arm over the barrel of the gun. His vice grip rendered the gun useless after she pulled the trigger the first time.

The sound of frustration that she let out as she ripped the gun out of his hands was something from deep in his memory banks, in one of the boxes that he tried to keep closed at all costs. She changed her hold on the gun, instead of using it for its intended purpose, she brought it down hard, cracking it against the side of his forehead.

He grunted in pain as he finally pushed her off him. “Natasha!” he yelled as he jumped to his feet, trying to back up a step to put some distance between them. “Please, just listen to me!”

She let out a sharp breath, shaking her head. “I don’t care about anything you have to say.”

“Don’t make me do this again.”

Confusion flashed across her face for a moment at his statement, but it was gone as quickly as it arrived as she charged at him one more time. They fought, nearly going right back to the ground again. Bucky managed to get a grip on her, his vibranium hand wrapping around her throat as he pinned her to the wall, keeping his arm extended and some distance between them. He wasn’t squeezing hard enough to kill her, not yet. He saw the panic in her eyes even it was something that she wouldn’t ever cop to.

“You know me,” he said with ragged breaths, “and I know you. Come on, Natasha. Look at me.”

She kicked at him, not that it did her any good. “If you’re going to kill me, just do it. Because I told you, I don’t care what you have to say, what lies you want to tell me.”

“Nat—”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence as she called out, alerting the rest of her team to where they were. He sighed, his head dropping, hair falling in front of his face. As much as he didn’t want to, he forced himself to look her in the eyes as his grip around her throat tightened.

“I’m so sorry.”

He woke up again. And again. And again. Each time he woke up in the same spot, with the same means. Each time he tried to change his tactics just slightly, hoping for a different outcome. He tried letting her just put a bullet in his skull. He was hoping that even the worst case scenario was that he would just die for real, even if it wasn’t the most optimal solution to getting out of the hell loop that he was stuck in. But it didn’t even do that. It didn’t free him, didn’t kill him. It just reset him.

He tried waiting for her to make it up all the stairs to get to him. He thought that maybe it would make it easier to get her to listen, but it didn’t. He tried getting her to follow him out of the building and into a different one. He tried to play the hand he’d been dealt every single way that he knew how, but none of the plays ever worked.

They all ended the same way: with Natasha dead, because of him. Over and over again he had her lifeless body sprawled across his lap, clutched tightly in his metal hand, strewn across the floor. Time after time he saw her bloody and bruised because of things that he had done.

For a moment he wondered if this was the universe making him pay for all of the things he’d done before. All the years of killing and violence finally catching up to him. The universe let him have a beat of happiness, of love, and now they were going to use it against him. Now that he knew how to love someone, how to let someone love him, the universe was just going to make him kill that person over and over again until, well, he didn’t know.

Bucky was sitting on the floor of the room he woke up in when Natasha came slinking in, her gun at the ready. He was sitting with his back against the wall, knees bent and his elbows pressing into his thighs as he raked his fingers back through his long hair.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” he said, calling out to her from the opposite side of the room.

“I think it does,” Natasha answered calmly, already reaching for her gun.

“Every time we do this, it never gets us anywhere.”

“Every time?” She clicked the safety off.

“I don’t want to keep killing you.”

She laughed and shook her head at that. “I know I’ve never come out on top, but come on, Soldier, you haven’t been lucky enough to kill me yet.”

“Natasha, please.”

“You don’t want to keep killing me?” Her sarcasm stung him in a way he hadn’t been ready for. “Fine. Let me kill you.”

He shook his head, looking up at her as she stood over him. There was enough sadness in his eyes to fill an ocean but she couldn’t see it, too blinded by her anger and desire to put an end to this. His head rested back against the cold wall behind him.

“It doesn’t matter,” he told her helplessly.

“Let’s find out.”

He locked his eyes with hers. “If I tell you about this next time, will you believe me then?”

She shrugged, her tone flippant as she answered, “Sure.”

He woke up gasping like he had just broken the surface after being underwater. He was in no rush to get himself upright this time. He was so tired. He almost wished that with each reset, he’d forget about the previous one. But he didn’t. Instead, he was just being crushed more and more under the weight of each unsuccessful attempt to free himself, to make Natasha see him the way that he knew she could.

When he got out of this, if he got out of this, he wondered if he was going to be carrying all those memories with him still. He wondered if he would have to look at Natasha at home, in their kitchen, in their shared bed, sitting with her feet on the dash of his car, and remember killing her over and over and over again.

Bucky knew that he shouldn’t put any stock in what she had told him. It had been made painfully clear to him that he was the only one out of the two of them who remembered anything that happened each time the loop reset. Still, though, if he didn’t cling to the tiny glimmer of hope it provided, he would have nothing at all left to cling to.

He stripped himself of all his weapons. No more guns or blades or anything else. He still wished that he could pull the mask off the bottom half of his face, but this would have to do. He knew that he didn’t have much more time before Natasha came through the door again. He pulled the door so that it was open at a ninety-degree angle. It allowed him some cover for a split second when she walked into the room, and hopefully that’s all he would need.

When he heard her footsteps getting close, he stood with his back against the door, completely hidden from her view. He kept his eyes trained on the ground, and the second that he saw the toe of her boot peer past the edge of the door, he moved in. In what felt like one fluid motion, he knocked the gun from her hands, shut the door so it was just the two of them in the room, and pinned her against the wall.

He made quick work of gripping both her wrists in one hand, and covering her mouth with the other. She was struggling against him but it wasn’t getting her anywhere. He could see the defeat creeping onto her face. It sent a wave of pain through his chest to know that she could already envision him killing her, and that in his reality he might not have any other choice. He wished that he could tell her it wouldn’t come to that and mean it, but he just didn’t know anymore.

“You need to listen,” he spoke quietly, harshly. His chest was pressed against hers and she could feel the dramatic rise and fall of it as he breathed, never really having gotten it back in order since the first time he woke up here. He tried to ignore it. “You promised me you’d listen, that you’d believe me.”

Her brows drew together and she mumbled something against his hand. Bucky couldn’t hear what it was, but judging by the look on her face it wasn’t anything that he would really want to hear anyway. This was all a longshot. It was all futile to him at this point, but he couldn’t phone it in just yet.

“We keep doing this,” he told her, adjusting his legs and hips as she tried to wriggle free from him. “I’ve lost count of how many times we’ve done this. It always ends the same. You kill me. I kill you. Then I wake up right here again, waiting for you to come up those stairs. Over and over. Nat, you need to listen to me. We can’t keep doing this. We’re never going to get out if we keep doing this.”

Her breathing was ragged too as her eyes darted back and forth between his. Bucky could tell that she was trying to figure out if he was serious, or if he was just trying to manipulate her somehow. He waited a few more seconds before pulling his hand away from her mouth, giving her a chance to say something, anything about what he’d just told her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. But if you really wanted to get out, you should’ve left before I got here.”

Bucky wanted to shake her. He wished that he knew what to say to make her see what was going on. That had to be the key. That had to be how he got out. He could only get out if he was taking her with him. It was the only thing he could think of.

“Do you believe me?” he asked, already having a feeling about the answer.

“Does that matter? You’re going to kill me either way, right?”

He shook his head, fighting the urge to scream. “I don’t—” He stopped himself and leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers as he shut his eyes. It was a gesture that used to be a source of comfort, but he could feel how it wasn’t the same, how she was confused, tense. He understood that but he wished he could change it.  “I don’t want to. I can’t keep doing it. I just, I need you to believe me.” He pulled away so he could look her in the eyes. “I need you to believe me so that we can get out of here.”

“We?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know who you think I am, but—”

“I know exactly who you are,” Bucky told her. And he was right. He knew nothing about this world he was trapped in, but he knew about her. Natasha was the one thing he could be confident about, even if she didn’t know that anymore.

“You shoot me once? Outrun me a few times? And now, what, you think you know me?”

He cupped her chin with the hand that wasn’t holding her wrists. His grip wasn’t gentle, but he wasn’t hurting her, either. “I know who you are, Natasha. I do. And you know who I am.” He wanted to hold her for real, but he couldn’t. He knew her well enough to know that if he let her go, they would end up right back where they ended each time. He didn’t want to do that again.

“What happens if I believe you?” Her tone conveyed that she didn’t believe him, not yet.

But Bucky was willing to take her curiosity as a win. It was more than he’d ever gotten from her in the past. “I don’t know,” he told her honestly. “You never have before.”

“Why would I?”

He didn’t have a good answer for that either. “I don’t know. But I don’t, I don’t have any other options.” He paused. “You’re all I have.” That statement, he knew, was true no matter where he woke up.

There was a long stretch of silence, that in reality was only a handful of seconds but it felt so much longer than that. He spoke up again. “If I wanted you dead, Natasha, you would be. I,” he hesitated, “I’ve done it a million times already.”

She didn’t say anything, but Bucky felt the way the tension in her body changed. She wasn’t fully relaxed, because who would be? But he saw the way there was the tiniest drop in her shoulders as a bit of the tightness went away. That was a win.

Figuring that the worst case scenario was that she would kill him and they would have to start all over again, he let her go and stepped back. She dropped her arms to her sides, immediately rubbing her hands over her sore wrists. She fought to catch her breath as she kept her eyes locked on Bucky. She still didn’t trust him, still didn’t know what his plan was, but she believed him for some reason when he said that if he wanted her dead, she would be.

They were locked in a stalemate. Natasha waited for whatever Bucky had to say next, Bucky waited for the world to come crashing down around him now that he’d made a tiny step forward with Natasha. But nothing changed. It was just the two of them in an empty room with the world falling apart outside.

Looking around, she saw the way that he’d piled all of his weapons on the opposite side of the room. That seemed like a dumb move to her, but then again, nothing that he had said or done made a lick of sense to her anyway.

Bucky followed her eye-line and saw what she was looking at. He wondered if she was trying to figure out how to get her hands on it. Maybe it had all been for nothing. He wanted to have the right thing to say, but whatever train of thought he had been trying to put together was cut off by the sounds of other footsteps coming up the stairs.

The two of them looked at each other and Natasha asked, “What now?”

He shook his head, eyes wide in disbelief. It was the most genuine she’d sounded with him this entire time and yet he didn’t know what his answer was. “I…I don’t know.”

She reached and grabbed the gun that was holstered on the back of her waist. Bucky’s heart plummeted into his stomach when she raised it in his direction. Something in him told him that he wasn’t going to get this lucky twice. If he didn’t make it work this time, he didn’t think that he was ever going to get out.

He took a deep breath, ready to try and plead with her, not that that had ever done him much good in the past. But, just as he opened his mouth to try and make his case, the door was kicked open behind them. For a split second he regretted not keeping his weapons nearby, but regret wasn’t about to do him any good.

Much to his surprise, rather than pulling the trigger and killing him while he was completely unarmed, Natasha quickly spun around and started firing at the men who were coming into the room after him, the men on her team.

Bucky froze up for a fraction of a second before getting himself back into gear and going for his gun. The second his fingers wrapped around it, he turned and started shooting. He still didn’t have a clear idea of how many people she was working with—the two of them never lived long enough for him to get a headcount. For now, he was just going to keep shooting until he was either out of bullets or out of people to shoot.

Eventually, the stream of people stopped. Bucky and Natasha were both out of breath, the smell of blood and gunpowder thick in the air. She turned and looked at Bucky, uncertainty all over her face, like she couldn’t believe what she had just done. Bucky couldn’t really believe it either.

Part of Natasha wanted to ask him what happened now, but she could tell by the look on his face that he didn’t have an answer for that. She reached to put her gun back in its holster when her legs gave out and she crumpled to the ground. She barely braced herself in time to make sure her head didn’t collide with the concrete.

Bucky was by her side in an instant. He frantically looked her over, and then he saw it, the blood on the floor coming from a wound in her side. He could tell that it wasn’t all that far from the place that he’d shot her before. There was no end to the layers of cruelty in this universe he was trapped in.

He reached and put his hands on her wound, pressing hard. She let out a groan of pain, but the pain of the pressure was still a better alternative than bleeding out. His breath was shaky, but this time it wasn’t because of the fear he had for himself, but the fear he had for her. Having to kill her all those times was horrible, but having to sit idly by like this was a new and different kind of pain.

“Natasha…”

“If you’re going to get out,” she said, her voice already starting to weaken, “you should go. They’ll send more.”

He nodded, knowing that she was right. He also knew that he wasn’t going to leave without her. He looked her up and down, and Natasha could see it in his eyes that he was trying to figure out the best way to pick her up and move her. He could carry her easily, that wasn’t the issue. The issue was trying to find a way to do that that wouldn’t make her wound any worse than it already was.

“Without me,” she said. “Go without me.”

He shook his head. “I can’t. You’re…all of this is about you. I can’t leave alone.”

“You said it yourself, you’ve done this a million times. You’ll just have to…do it again.”

Bucky let out a shuddered breath. He didn’t know if he had it in him to do it again. He couldn’t keep getting this close only to have it ripped away from him. He looked her in the eyes. “Will you believe me again?”

She gave a small, weak shrug as she laid there. “Maybe.”

He shook his head, not able to resign himself to the reality of the situation. “There’s gotta…gotta be another way.”

“Doesn’t look like there is.”

He lifted her torso just enough so that he could press his forehead to hers again. She didn’t pull away from him, didn’t push him like he expected her to now that she had the freedom to do so. He doubted that she found any comfort in the gesture but it was all he had now.

His eyes were shut tight as he said, “I’ll see you soon.”

One of her hands came to rest on the cold metal of his arm. He could hear the slight trace of sarcasm, of mild disbelief in her voice as she said, “I’ll see you soon.”

Bucky snapped awake, heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t fully take in the room around him as he listened to the sound of glass clattering to the floor, of feet thudding up the stairs and closer to him. His hands were balled into fists, the rest of his body rigid and frozen. It took all he could do to even be able to turn his head to look around.

Natasha came flying into the room, her hair still a damp mess from after her shower. Her eyes were wide as she asked, “What’s wrong?”

Bucky opened and shut his mouth a few times, unable to force out words to answer her. He finally began to realize where he was. This was his room. Their room. There was no more mask stifling his breathing, no more hair sticking to the back of his neck. Glancing down, he saw the more reassuring black and gold arm at his side, one that was plagued with far less memories of torment.

He looked over at Natasha. The Natasha that knew him. The faded blonde ends of her hair hung over her shoulders, leaving wet spots on the fabric of the shirt that she’d stolen from his dresser. She was still lingering in the doorway, unsure of whether or not he wanted her to come any closer, unsure of whether or not that was the right thing.

She took one step past the threshold of their room. “You screamed my name.”

“I did?” he finally got a few words out.

She nodded, walking over to his side of the bed. “Yea.”

“Sorry.”

He shook his head as he sat upright. He didn’t even know where to start. There was no way it had all been a dream. He felt it too much. It went on for too long. It had to have been real. Somehow. He studied Natasha’s face, trying to figure out if anything similar had been plaguing her. She seemed so unbothered, though.

Reaching forward, he grabbed onto the bottom hem of his shirt that she was wearing. She tensed slightly, but she didn’t flinch away from him as he lifted it up. His eyes traveled over her skin, quickly spotting the scar by her hip that he’d left there so long ago. He looked a few inches higher, looking for any sign that what he’d gone through was real in some way. And, sure enough, there was another scar there, a little larger than the one left behind by him.

He brushed his fingers against it, the light contact causing goosebumps to break out over her skin. Natasha swallowed hard. “What happened?”

He looked up at her, exhausted and confused. “Where did this one come from?” he asked her, thumb tracing the skin right below the scar.

Her brows knit together as she tried to think of it. There had been so many fights, so many scars. It was hard to keep them all straight sometimes. Finally, she shook her head. “I don’t remember.” She paused. “Why?”

“I, uh,” his voice was hoarse, “I think it was my fault.”

“Your fault? Bucky, no—”

He stood up off the bed and pulled her into him, arms wrapping tightly around her and pinning her body against his. For the first time in what felt like far too long, she returned the embrace. She held him tight, hands splaying across the expanse of his back.

“I’m never gonna hurt you again,” he mumbled against her neck.

She couldn’t pretend that she wasn’t a little confused by it all. “I know.” She pulled away from him so that she could look him in the eyes. She cupped the side of his face for a moment before leaning in to kiss him, getting caught off-guard when he pulled away.

He placed his hand over hers, trying to find comfort in the touch, but he couldn’t. All he could think about was what he’d done to her, the countless times he’d hurt her, killed her. He couldn’t allow himself that softness from her. He didn’t deserve that.

“Natasha…” his voice trailed off, not really sure what he wanted to say to her at this point.

“We’re okay.” She pulled him in so that his forehead was pressed against hers. “I promise.”

Now it was his turn to feel his body flooded with tension at what was supposed to be a comforting gesture. All he could think about was the way she fought against him, the way her body locked up at his touch. But he didn’t know how to say that to her. She didn’t remember, didn’t know. The pain was exclusively his own.

“We’re okay,” he repeated her words, his voice hardly above a whisper.

She nodded. “We are.”

She pulled him into another embrace, and he let her. He tried to ease into it, tried to allow it to comfort him despite the memories that were now going to be engrained in his mind forever. She held him tight and he attempted to focus on the warmth seeping from her body to his. He played her promise that they were okay over and over again in his head, hoping that one day, he’d actually believe it.

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