#before i made this post i asked myself: am i really petty enough to look up all these videos and images just to make a point?

[stairset]

Satine says “we are a people of tradition” in season 3, and in this behind the scenes featurette from 2010, when lead designer Kilian Plunkett discusses the design process behind Satine (at the 16: 44 mark), he says that they tried to “make it feel that she was definitely part of this culture”. This proves that Satine hated everything about Mandalorian culture and was ashamed of her Mandalorian heritage and tried to deny it.

Mandalore joined the Republic after Satine become the leader, which is obviously inherently a bad thing because All Government Automatically Bad Always. Despite being loyal to the Republic and its core principles, she was often very vocally critical of them when she disagreed with their decisions, and she chose to stay neutral in the war and was upset at the prospect of a Republic occupation of Mandalore. This proves that she was a total shill and sell-out for the Republic who forced her people to assimilate into Republic culture. (Even though the Republic, not unlike the United Nations in the real world, is a largely symbolic organization that consists of thousands of planets with different cultures and thus there really is no one singular “Republic culture”)

In the aforementioned behind the scenes featurette, (at 7:12) Dave Filoni, Kilian Plunkett and Joel Aron discuss how the shapes in Mandalorian armor inspired the design direction of the New Mandalorians (including Satine herself as previously stated) so as to give them a uniquely Mandalorian aesthetic, from the architecture to the clothing to the artwork to the ship design to the goddamn hair textures. In Rebels, when we meet a prominent warrior clan in the form of Clan Wren, the design of their ancestral home, the artwork on the wall, and the clothing worn by non-warrior Alrich Wren all generally follow similar design cues as the New Mandalorians. These design choices were clearly not done for a reason and this only further proves that Satine stripped Mandalore of their unique identity and Made Them Assimilate Into Republic Culture™. They’re now totally interchangeable with core worlds like Coruscant because Mandalorian culture is WAR KILL DEATH CARNAGE only and none of that other stuff matters. Also, the royal palace has a giant ass mural of Mandalorians fighting Jedi in ancient times right on the front of it for all to see, which clearly shows that she was erasing history and that the New Mandalorians Forgot About Their Roots.

It’s an important plot point in both season 2 and season 5 of The Clone Wars that Death Watch cannot take Mandalore by force because they are too small in numbers and Satine has the will of the people on her side, which is why they have to ally themselves with outside forces (first the Separatists, then Maul and the criminal syndicates) and must come up with super elaborate schemes for the express purpose of painting themselves as heroes and making her look bad, and it is only by doing this that they are able to win the people over to their side, at which point she surrenders the throne. But BEFORE she lost the throne, members of the Protectors, an ancient group of elite warriors dedicated to serving as royal guards to Mandalore’s leader, made up Satine’s royal guard during the Clone Wars, as stated in this Rebels Recon episode (10:30). In Rebels, Fenn Rau, the leader of the aforementioned Protectors, says that many Mandalorians by that time regard Bo-Katan as Mandalore’s rightful ruler in part because of her relation to Satine. Also if we go by the novelization for the Shadow Collective arc in season 5 (said novelization is technically Legends now but it’s one of the few sources in either continuity that gives any specifics on how her rise to power went down and this specific detail has not been contradicted by current canon) it claims that the warriors who supported her rule did so willingly because even they were tired of the constant fighting. All of this clearly demonstrates that Satine did not respect the will of the people at all and did not have the majority on her side for the bulk of her time as ruler and her rule was definitely not recognized as legitimate by anyone.

As also mentioned in the aforementioned Rebels Recon episode, the Protectors who served as Satine’s royal guard wore armor that was essentially just a more ceremonial version of their traditional combat armor, as worn by the aforementioned Fenn Rau. Also, Sundari’s police wear armor too. Also also, Satine’s own former Prime Minister Almec has his own armor that he pulls out during the Siege of Mandalore, and since it doesn’t match the aesthetic of the other Maul loyalists it’s safe to say it’s most likely his family’s armor passed down to him. This clearly proves without a doubt that Satine flat out banned wearing armor even though that’s never stated anywhere, that’s clearly the only logical explanation as to why the average citizens don’t wear it. Certainly not because their society was actually peaceful for about 20 years give or take and they didn’t need it or anything like that.

Satine speaks Mando’a (specifically the Concordian dialect) in the literal first episode she appeared in. Mando’a can also be seen in written form on the police speeders and in the royal academy. This shows us that she suppressed the language, further destroying Mandalorian culture.

The lack of racial diversity on Mandalore in The Clone Wars was definitely NOT an out-of-universe character design problem, but rather an in-universe problem that only applies to Satine and the New Mandalorians specifically (even though their opponents in Death Watch are just as white), as opposed to, say, the True Mandalorians in Legends who are so much more racially diverse. And season 7 definitely did NOT add more New Mandalorians with darker skin-tones as a direct result of the criticisms regarding how white the planet was in the previous seasons (and because Star Wars in general became much more diverse after the Disney buyout).

Also she’s a colonizer despite literally being born on a Mandalorian colony planet. And she can’t be the leader specifically because she wasn’t born on Mandalore and is thus not a real Mandalorian, but this same logic doesn’t extend to any other Mandalorian characters who weren’t born on Mandalore, such as Jango Fett, Boba Fett, Din Djarin, Fenn Rau, Ursa Wren, Ketsu Onyo, Jaster Mereel (assuming the broad strokes of his Legends history still hold true in canon), etc.

In conclusion, if you can’t see how Satine was OBVIOUSLY meant to be seen as a villain who committed cultural genocide by telling her people to maybe stop doing imperialism in favor of focusing on productive things like art and education, and also implementing gun control, then you CLEARLY haven’t been paying enough attention. Hashtag Make Mandalore Great Again.

#before i made this post i asked myself: am i really petty enough to look up all these videos and images just to make a point? #the answer is yes yes i am #satine kryze #star wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars rebels #shut up tristan

[hetalia-club]

I just have to spill my thoughts here for a second about my personal life for my own sanity. feel free to happily ignore and scroll by.

Good news everyone :D I just dumped my toxic emotionally abusive boyfriend. Terrible News everyone! :DDDD He was also my best friend and childhood best friend so isn't that great!? :)))

We were supposed to go to Sicily together in May...Why did I DO THAT!? I spent 2k on my plane ticket...the room is reserved... Do I like just not go to Italy now? Do I say F it and just go by myself? Do I try and quickly beg someone else to go with me who's okay with spending at least 2k on a plane ticket? Which would be no one in my life, maybe my parents would but idk what they got going on. I really wanted to go. Why could I have like just not waited until after that? We share a friend group and they are all more his friends than mine. So I just like isolated myself for no reason.

Sorry to dump this here and no I don't expect any of you to have the answers or do anything with this information.

These past few weeks for me have been really rough and I just made it somehow worse.

He distanced me from all my former friends who have all like moved on and have families and whatever and who I have not spoken to in five years so all I have right now is my family and work 'friends' I don't even like. I'm going to have to live with my parents for who knows how long because it was his house he had all the money in our relationship. He convinced me to quit my good desk job with benefits to work part time as a barista so I could clean his house and cook for him. But he also put up with all my weirdness and was fine with it.

Like when I say I have no idea what to do I truly mean that.

again I don't want anyone to feel responsible to do something about how I royalty screwed up my life. It's no ones fault. I shouldn't have let him isolate me so much from my friends and former life but TOO LATE NOW! I just need to stop being with men who have brown hair and brown eyes but are objectively terrible.

My only silver lining is that I was the one to end it. Which if anything am proud of myself for that because I have never broken up with anyone before and I normally just deal with whatever people do to me no matter how terrible and mean they are. I just have always forgiven him and everyone else.

But when some dude bro sits you down and asks you to "List reasons why you deserved to be loved by him" it was just too much. Like that might seem petty but I am sick of being the 'pretty girlfriend' I am so tired of having to dress to the 9s to go out and be expected to be perfect even if we're just going to a F*ng dive bar where I get stared out for dressing like I'm going to a club. Where he gets to look like a diarrhea stain who can't be bothered to wear a shirt that's not wrinkled or shave his scraggly beard. Why he thinks I should make a list of MY worth as a human being in his eyes. When he is average at best!? Like I'm not a 10 I'm not perfect I'm not delusional, I don't think I'm the hottest girl in the world or gods gift to man kind. But I'm out of his league, I do know that!

I always tend to cling to Hetalia harder when my life is falling apart around me because that's sort of just what I've done since I was a teen. I've never been in a healthy relationship with someone who actually likes me and Hetalia has always been there for me. Which is why I have been making a lot of content lately, it's been a distraction and I'm sorry if I've been bugging people with how much I've been posting. That's not been my intentions its just my coping mechanism and it's better than drinking...

This is the only social media I have that he's not on. I don't hate him enough to block him. I do still want to try and be his friend at some point if that's possible. I love his family and they love me and it's going to be so upsetting to see them again from a different perspective.

I'm okay...It's just been really rough lately...And I somehow just made it worse.(No I'm not going to hurt myself or anyone, don't even worry about that.)

#hc talking smack #i'm going to start dating men over 60... #i am one of the few fortunate people in this world who have wonderful parents thankfully. if not idk what i would do tbh... #i know they would never turn me away or kick me out in a million years #and i do think they will come to Italy with me if i ask “pretty please” they may even fund it if i seem sad enough

[gynandromorph]

Hi more Jessie questions,

Thanks a lot for the 'powers are what you can write' post, that's let me wrap my head around the power a lot more. It's not so much about something being impossible to do, it's about it being impossible to write. That being said, Jessie can create life or at least a feasible simulacrum of life. What happens if Jessie goes 'this is a 100% identical copy of me who would think and act the same way I would in any given situation'? Is there an upper limit to that? Because it's easy to write 'And then the 8000 or 9000 Jessies rolled up into a ball and went to fuck your mother' but since this is a comic, authorship has both a written and visual component. I think even the best artists have a balking limit of how many figures they want to draw interacting in space together (I am not an artist, so if I am wrong please say). Alternatively, would Jessie even allow a copy of herself time to know it is alive (cus I can tell you if I could make a copy of myself with no consequences I'd kill it just for kicks)?

And,

This is less a Jessie question and more a question about the Ants, that being how does the Ant cult work? The Ants have a connection to God that is closer than any religion in history ever did. Do they take advantage of this? Like do the Ants go directly to God to ask about problems, or is that seen as rude? Do the Ants take personal moral stances on what Jessie does, or do they assume that what Jessie does is good? One of the main reasons that I started worshipping the Gods is because they are capricious petty assholes who care more about saving face than doing the right thing. That humanness spoke to me. Would people in-universe worship Jessie for her extremely flawed use of the power of divinity? Would this worship be separate from the Ant cult, or would the Ant cult accept others as part of its fold?

And,

I'm sorry if these asks are too long, but your work seriously gets into a craw of my brain that nothing has ever crawed into before. I read through all of Fresh Meat in a depressive haze the other night and loved it. My mind's response to self-harm thoughts is now Lupe's speech about how cutting is addictive. I'm reading through Dropout right now and fucking loving it. I know Catharsis isn't done yet but I want to say what's out right now has really helped me. The way you write the interaction between Felix's mind and meatspace has made me realize enough about my mind that I'm trying to get in contact with a Nuropysch to get some testing done. It helped me realize that talking in your head with the people there is dissociating, and that's what I've been doing for a lot of my life. I hope Catharsis will be completed, but even if it isn't, I want you to know that I'm very grateful for the stuff you've put out there so far. All the stuff you make is fucking great. Straight up. Jessie is the vector for the craw as well, and the Jessie questions are so long cus I have a lot of thoughts in my head about her and your work and everything! Please keep creating. You create fantastic art.

Yes, the story explores imagination and its limits. We often think of our imaginations as unlimited, but that is an illusion produced by our own ignorance. A lot to unpack here.

Jessie can easily create copies of herself. They would come more intuitively than writing other characters, if they were pure replications of herself, because they require no extra thought. She would never make a copy of herself without drastic contingencies to make it subservient to her and prevent the copy from being able to overpower her or override the restrictions placed upon her powers — essentially, this would be a different character who looks like her more than a clone, at that point.

The thing about art is that it does not need to be literally true — only believable. No need to draw 9,000 Jessies, as 1,000 would likely not even fit onto one page. The illusion of 9,000 Jessies is all that is necessary.

A fun little fact is that Jessie doesn't know that is in a comic; she just doesn't think much of it. For all she knows, the visuals around her are imaginings in the head of someone reading a written book, or even in her own head. She only thinks of herself as in a written novel, even though she is open to the idea that the story is part of a larger medium, such as a movie or comic

For the cult: only the leader is an ant; the cult itself is an open religion and mixed-species. I'm thinking of calling them the Original Character Society or the Book Club at the moment... Something alluding to the fictional story element.

That said, no one would bring their personal problems directly to Jessie unless they had something even worse than a death wish. Jessie is a patently unhinged God, and, despite the cult's best effort to understand her and make their exchanges with her predictable, clearly unable to be predicted.

Unlike an invisible, unreactive God, Jessie is conscious, and can change her actions based on observation and prediction, like any person. She can intuit how she is expected to react and actively choose a different behavior intentionally — and she often does.

She has given them kid gloves to be handled with through Twiddler's reappropriation, and to encroach on her personal time and space on one's own terms instead, likely in the hopes of getting better results, is a cascade of transgressions begging for judgment.

The cult does interact with her directly, but largely first when it is small, and looking for her permission to exist, in a time when she is feeling strain on her relationships; or when she personally decides to engage with them. Its primary function as it grows larger is grooming members who want things from her to interact in successful ways by studying her behavior, keeping track of her moods, documenting which prayers she answers, forming scripts (later congealed into liturgy) to indirectly pray to her, and nurturing a positive image of her.

Due to the cult's primary function being successfully obtaining benefits from Jessie, liking her as a god is not necessary. I think there are many selfish members who think the world would be better off without her, but want things, and will gladly grovel for them if it's likely to work. Like any religion, there are a variety of opinions about Jessie, with some being positive, apathetic, horny, sycophantic, hateful, etc. The official position of the sect itself is not necessarily that everything Jessie does or says is good, but it is always true — this is specifically said as what she does is always "right." It's assumed by default what she does is good, but Jessie herself can say things she's done are bad, and that would be TRUE, canonically. I personally imagine that most opinions of her are not positive in the cult — either neutral or negative.

There are very likely some odd worshipers outside of the cult, but I would consider them casual worshipers, mostly invoking Jessie as a symbol or idol more than as an actual god who can respond to them.

Glad my work could help. Keep in mind that all people can have dialogues in their head — it's why "parts work" and inner family systems therapy works for people with or without dissociative parts. Like most mental illnesses, DID and other major dissociative disorders are simply normal brain functions which have veered to some extreme that has become dysfunctional or detrimental. I do hope that your testing is elucidating, but doctors in such a field are extremely prone to error, so don't give up on your gut instincts if they persist.

[reds-ramblings]

This was written a few days ago before episode 10 was released. However, after a certain point on Friday, I was so anxious for the release that I couldn't focus long enough to do my final read-through to edit out any mistakes. Now that I have finished the episode I am finally posting.

Apple Doesn't Fall Far - Part 11

Jake's P.O.V.

"I'm sorry, Jay. I wasn't thinking about Gracie." Lily says.

"Obviously!" I scoff.

As Lily walks away I turn my attention back to MC.

"Thank you." She says quietly.

"I didn't do it for you I did it for Grace."

"I know but still." She says.

As I turn to walk away I hear Dan apologizing to her for Lily's behavior. I need to find Gracie and make sure she's ok. When Lily started yelling I told her to go play with the other kids. I walk into the house and see all the kids in the living room playing video games. I motion for Gracie to come to me and she does.

"I'm sorry about that Gracie." I tell her.

"Who was that and why was she being so mean to mom?" She asks.

"That's your other aunt Lily. She and your mom have never really had a great relationship. Let's just say it started on the wrong foot. So it's going to take her a little more time to warm up to the idea of your mom being around again."

"Oh," She looks down at the ground and shifts nervously. "Does she hate me because of what mom did?"

"No, she doesn't hate you at all. You're not responsible for any of the decisions either of us has made. I hope you won't hold her comments earlier against her either. She tends to act without thinking."

"Ok." She says and goes back to playing video games.

After making sure Gracie was ok I decided I needed to take some time to compose myself before going back outside. After hiding in my room for a while I walk back outside to see everyone drinking and having a good time around the fire. I grab a drink and sit down between Lily and Jessy, across the fire from MC, far enough away that she can't hear me. I lean over to Lily.

"I know it's hard but we have a kid together and being a part of her life means at least being Civil with MC so please try to play nice." I whisper to her.

"Yeah, I know. All the anger from back then suddenly rushed back to me the moment I saw her and I just couldn't stop myself." She says.

"Yeah tell me about it. I completely blew up the first time I saw her on campus. Thank god Gracie had gone back to her dorm."

"I talked to her for a minute. She seems like a nice kid. She didn't seem to be mad at me for my outburst earlier." Lily says.

I see Hannah coming out of the house and I get up to grab another drink.

"I spent some time with your mini-me." She says coming over to get a drink herself.

"She's amazing isn't she?" I ask.

"She does seem petty great but her mother's pretty great too you know." She says.

"Yeah if you say so."

"So what about you two? Any plans of getting back together?" She asks making me roll my eyes.

"We were never together in the first place. It was just a one-night stand." I say trying to sound convincing.

"Yeah ok." She snorts. "Tell that to someone that didn't watch you almost drive yourself crazy for three years looking for her. Jake, you loved her and I know those kinds of feelings don't just go away."

"Hannah I'm incapable of having those feelings."

"Yeah yeah, that's what you said before you met her the first time too and we all watched you fall head over heels for her." She laughs. "I think if you're honest with yourself you're still in love with her."

"No, Hannah it's not going to happen so don't get your hopes up." I tell her as we walk back over to the group and sit down.

After several hours the last of the group had gone home and it's just MC and I. She tells me goodnight before getting up and going inside. I put out the fire and make my way into the house. I find it hard to focus on my walking and stumble a bit. Damn, it usually takes a lot more than that before I feel it. I start down the hall towards my room when I see Marabella coming out of the bathroom. As she goes to walk by me I grab her arm and force her to look at me. I'm not sure if it's the alcohol or what but the second our eyes meet I forget everything I was going to say. Fuck it, maybe Hannah was right. Maybe I do still love her. At that thought, I can't help but push her up against the wall and kiss her but to my surprise, she pushes me away.

"Oh come on, don't act like you don't want to kiss me." I mumble.

"What I want and what is right are two different things." She says back.

"What's so wrong. You said you weren't seeing anybody."

"No, I haven't been with anyone since that night. That's not the reason." She says.

I lean in close to her. "From what I remember you hadn't been with anyone before that either. I'm glad to know I'm the only one." While still holding her against the wall I lean down and start kissing down her neck. She lets out a sigh and gives in just for a moment before pushing me away again.

"It's not like it's anything we haven't done before." I tease. She slaps me and I back away surprised.

"You've had too much to drink and I'm not in the mood for this shit." She says as she pushes past me to her room.

***

I walk into the kitchen and see Marabella sitting at the table drinking coffee.

"Hey." I say walking over to the coffee pot to fix myself a cup.

"Hey."

"About last night, I wanted to apologize for my behavior. I'm truly sorry. I wasn't thi-" I start and she cuts me off.

"It's fine. I've already forgotten it happened." She says.

Seeing how unphased she is I can't help but wonder if she ever had feelings for me at all. "Did you ever truly love me? I ask.

"Why, does it even matter at this point? It's not like it's going to change anything." She says looking up from her coffee.

"No, but I would like to know if your feelings were real or if you were just playing me." I turn to face her and lean back against the counter.

"I could ask you the same thing." She shrugs.

"I'll tell you if you tell me." I say as I cross my arms over my chest.

"Yes, everything was real for me. I truly fell in love with you back then. I wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you. When I promised to run away with you I meant it. I never wanted to break that promise then those two pink lines showed up and... well, my life changed in an instant and what I wanted didn't matter anymore. I had a kid to protect and neither of us were important at that moment, she was." She looks up and we lock eyes. At that moment, I can tell she's being truthful.

"I understand why you did what you did. Hell, if I had known you were pregnant I would have probably insisted you do exactly that. Understanding what you did and knowing you did the right thing doesn't make it any easier for me. It doesn't suddenly make me trust you or love you. It doesn't magically bring those feelings back. When you left that day I didn't just lose you. When you disappeared you took my whole heart with you; you took every shred of trust I had left. When you disappeared you took away every hope I had for the future. When you left it broke me. I am incapable of having those feelings again but damn it MC I would be lying if I said I didn't feel something, I'm just not sure what. I'm afraid as I spend more time with you those feelings will just continue to grow and then I'll lose you, again. I can't go through that, not again. My heart can't take losing you a second time." I confess. I'm not sure if getting that off my chest makes me feel better or worse.

"You know, Jake, I never stopped loving you. That's the reason I haven't been with anyone since. At first, I couldn't even look at another man without feeling like I was betraying you. Then as Gracie started to get older I was constantly reminded of you. Every time I looked at her face I saw the man I loved so much. I just couldn't bring myself to be with anyone else because I knew it could never live up to what I felt with you. Being here with you is hell because my heart wants nothing more than for us to pick up where we left off 13 years ago but my head knows no matter what I do that can never happen. We can never go back to that." She sighs.

"MC, I just can't." I say.

"I know. So, where does all this leave us now?" She asks.

"I don't know."

Hearing her say those things should make me feel happy or angry or something but instead, it just confuses me even more.

#duskwood #duskwood jake #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood game #duskwood everbyte #duskwoodfanfic #iamjake #jake duskwood #jake x mc #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood community #Apple Doesn't Fall Far

[irock3veryting]

Half sibling mix up

So I grew up as an only child to my mother & about 20 years ago my dad who never had a hand in raising me came back & I briefly met him but that’s for another story. Again he was absent but before he left told me I had 3 siblings one of whom he gave my email add out to this young boy decided he would reach out to me one day on msn which at the time was very random but I didn’t question it as he introduced himself as my brother and well he looked like my dad and that was it we stayed in touch from then on. Over the years I noticed this on and off again contact from this guy he would often disappear and reappear at random times throughout the year there never was a date set that we would meet but I never questioned it. Just for clarification I am the oldest and the only girl so I wasn’t really wanting to risk meeting with a bunch of strange guys on my own.

One day when I was at an old boyfriends house he called randomly I picked up and he asked if I could talk and I explained I was with my then boyfriend in which he replied ok message me later & I’ll call you back. Which ever way round it was he agreed that whatever he wanted to say it could wait and he would talk to me later on that evening. Once home I messaged him, no reply I then thought nothing of it as I had lots of uni work to be getting on with and that was my priority, months had passed and without realising I noticed he never messaged me back. I simply called the number at random and the number had been disconnected!

Years had passed no contact from this supposed half sibling seeing as he deleted his number how would I get in touch? Randomly on Facebook he appeared active not sure who added who but I was contacted telling me I was going to be an auntie, wonderful a short message & I was told oh yes your meet her so obviously it was a lil girl. Time went on, nothing, not only did I embarrass myself on big big Facebook telling my friends & family I was going to be an aunt but this guy then out of nothing but spite posted photos of the child’s christening in my face I weren’t invited up to meet her or to the christening. I then made up my mind that I did not want to meet with this guy he clearly didn’t know how to treat ppl and seeing as I was his only sister I didn’t appreciate being treated this way.

Again years passed this time he jumps on to Facebook and plastered posts of his brothers from young to every single school photo in my face not only to someone who grew up by themselves this is damaging but it’s incredibly spiteful and far as I’m concerned it was only done for that purpose the photos weren’t asked for nor were they needed!

I then got on with my life didn’t react or respond he then again randomly contacts me the usual boring convo, forgot to mention that nothing interesting to say other then what you up to and using words like same & you and phases like not bad you, think I could get a better conversation out of a dead dog!

Crazily enough I had a lot going on I was engaged and couldn’t get married my grandparents where both unwell & I really didn’t have time to wonder who was talking to me & who was not. So I never paid his petty, nastiness any type of mind over the years I was too busy having an actual life I don’t run after anyone or beg ppl to be in my life.

Some years pass and I get married I move to the lovely Bahamas wasn’t quite adapted to my surroundings so missed home a lot. This guy then takes full advantage to yet again come back into my life and pretends to be the concerned brother not only has he changed his number but as I previously mentioned was completely spiteful in his posts. Me being me I forgive move on give him my number once again something I had done years before but no phone call or text came.

I moved back to England and got a job he one day randomly calls me on my lunch break I don’t know this number so I don’t pick up. I send a text asking who it is the response ‘oh it’s his name followed by oh lil brother’ smh ok. I tell him I’m at work then we talk over instagram. I don’t hear from him after that day then when I was on my way to my mother in laws house he randomly calls me and i basically feel very uncomfortable you see I don’t know this guy he’s spent most of his years ghosting me and then randomly getting back in touch it’s very confusing nobody should except someone doing this to them!

So I say I’ll call you back which I was gonna do but got caught up and was busy later. This spiteful, nasty piece of work decided to get on his high horse and flip out asking why I didn’t call him back and that it was so good to hear my voice?! What a weirdo, darling I’ve never had that connection with you, we are not friends & furthermore we will never be on that level to have phone conversations not when your there changing your number like that every other month to a year.

Pt2 ….. to come

#long lost family #messed up #half siblings

[soyouthinkucanwrite]

I can be your mirror - Daniel Ricciardo smut!

You feel insecure when you see his ex's instagram and Daniel decides to show you why you don't need to be

Warnings: smut! unprotected sex, low self esteem, etc

You were just chilling in the hotel bed, scrolling through your phone while Daniel finished taking a shower. It was Thursday night in Hungary, and media day was relatively calm (all eyes were still on Max and Lewis, after the whole Silverstone incident).

Your relationship was still new, you guys had just went public a couple months ago, and you liked that you were still discovering things about each other everyday, like how he prefers his eggs in the morning or that small scar under your chin he just noticed yesterday. Yet, some things weren't as fun to find out, like what his exes looked like.

A few fan accounts had started following you, including some F1 WAGs accounts, and you followed some of them back - you wanted to the updated, after all (or at least that's what you told yourself). The thing is, comparisons were inevitable to you - no matter how much you tried to be reasonable, low self esteem was always an issue to you. When a WAGs account posted about Daniel's ex hanging around in the paddock today and how cute her outfit was, you quickly found yourself clicking on the tag and stalking her ig. Perfect. Fucking perfect. You just have to set your own heartbreak up, don’t you? If at least you could let life do that, but no, you had to go and fall for the guy with the instagram models as his exes. You smiled ironically to yourself.

"Did you see Max shutting down that reporter on the press conference today?" Daniel said walking out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his torso and another drying his hair. You quickly locked your phone and looked up, startled like a kid caught with their hands on the cookie jar.

"Hum?" you asked him.

“What were you looking at?” he grinned you, throwing himself on the bed and sitting by your side.

“Nothing” you answered quickly, looking away.

“Don’t be like that. Tell me” he asked again, nudging you with his head.

“It’s nothing Dan, just silly old instagram”

“You wanna know one of the things I love most about you?” He asked before continuing. “You don’t really have filters. And even when you try to hide what you’re thinking, your face and body gives you away” He said. “That’s why you’re so perfect, you’re genuine” he touched your nose with his. “Let’s be honest with each other. Tell me what’s going on in there” Then he tried to lighten the mood saying "Can't be shirtless pictures of me that got you smirking, cause here I am in the flesh for you" you rolled your eyes but smiled at him.

“I’m laughing at myself” You said and he just looked at you, waiting for you to continue. “I’m setting myself up for heartbreak, more and more, and it’s just like me”

“What you’re talking about?”

“Please don’t say it’s stupid” you said before continuing. “You’re like, a rock star… fast cars, VIP, supermodels… these stuff are routine for you, you have the most interesting life. And you could have any girl. And your exes are like movie stars, fucking supermodels, and I'm not sure how much longer till you realize that and just, you know” you said gesturing to yourself and waving your fingers in front of your throat like who says 'abort mission'.

"I should know better, I really should and this might be nothing, but the deeper we get in this, the harder it's to wrap my own head around it and it’s so stupid, but how can anyone compete with that?” You weren’t making any sense, you knew and he was looking at you with his eyebrows raised and lips pressed, like he was holding a smile. “I’m rambling, forget I said anything it's so stupid” You said hiding your face behind your hand.

“I thought you said it wasn’t stupid” He said opening up a smirk and you opened your fingers to look at him. He pulled your hand down. “But you’re right, it is fucking stupid, because there’s no competing with you. I don’t care if I have to repeat that a thousand times for you to believe me, I mean…you had to have a flaw, huh?” You turned your head to the side. “This insecurity of yours, that you’re not good enough, it’s just the most crazy thing ever. Because I feel exactly the same. I’m the one that’s not good enough for you. You’re so smart, and good and you actually do good in the world. I’m just the lucky bastard that got picked to drive in circles around the world”

“You know that’s bullshit” You said.

“I’m serious. This whole stuff, fame, whatever… doesn’t mean anything. It’s just not real. I’m glad I realized that when I did” you were watching him intently. “Racing, challenging myself, working with the team, you... what we have, those are the stuff that are real to me, what really matters".

"Okay" you nodded agreeing.

"If you must to know, the reason why I didn’t work out with anybody else, it’s because we were never more than fuck buddies. Those girls are great fun, but they're more worried about showing than being, you know? And I’m not really interested in talking about them because it doesn’t mean anything, but I’ll tell you anything you ask me” You were dying to ask him more, to know every little details and to learn from their mistakes, but you knew you’d become obsessed with comparing yourself to them and didn’t he just tell you he wasn’t interest in anything about it?

“Sorry” you said quietly.

“What for?”

“Being a nag. Killing the mood” he smiled.

“Don’t-” “you-” “dare-” He kissed your face in between every word. “apologizing-” “for-” “your-” “feelings” he pulled away and looked at you. “Specially not to me. I meant it, let’s be honest, huh?” you nodded smiling back at him. “And if I’m ever a dick, please tell me before screw things up. This is not nothing, okay?”

“Okay”

“And I’m flattered you think I could have any girl” he said grinning. “I mean, I AM pretty hot, but-”

“Shut up. You know I’m right”

“Maybe any girl who cares about that stuff, and my amazing six pack” he says laughing and kissing you.

“And hard butts” you replied laughing and reaching to squeeze his, playfully.

“And hard butts” he agreed, rolling so he was on top of you.

“Those girls are usually the hottest”

“Do you honestly don’t have a mirror at home?” he said pulling away slightly from you. “It’s okay baby” he said in your ear, lifting your shirt over your head, then nibbling at your earlobe, making you moan. “I can be your mirror” he said in a low voice, taking your hands over your head and pinning them with his own.

Then he used his knees to push your legs apart. You were following his face, trying to kiss his mouth but he was holding you down, his lips barely touching your skin now, him hovering over your neck, your collarbone, your exposed breasts. You were squirming now, trying to get some release. He just wouldn’t let you have any yet.

“You have the most amazing skin” he begin saying. “So soft” he looked up to you, you had your eyes closed now. “The most amazing boobs. Fucking perfect tits, so round… and these perking nipples, so hard when you’re turned on” his lips touched your breasts lightly, barely.

“Your hair always smells so good, it’s the perfect frame for your perfect face” He went up again and kissed your lips, biting them lightly and dragging them out. “I love your lips, I love how plumped they are. I’m kind of jealous actually” he chuckled and you opened your eyes rolling them. “And those eyes. Fuck, I know it’s the first thing anyone notices about you, isn’t it? Are you sick of it by now? So big and green. I love seeing them rolling back when you come” he brought one hand down, pulling your pijama pants down and holding both of your hands up with only one of his. “I’m getting there in a minute” he said grabbing your pussy. “I just want to tell you about your ass first” he said sliding his hand through your hips until he reached your ass, grabbing it then releasing to give it a slap. You let out a yelp. “You in the mood for a little rough love?” he slapped you again and you smiled through your moan, this is so hot. And the best part of it was that no one else knew this side of his, just you. It's petty yeah, but you decided to indulge yourself in that thought.

“I love your ass, I swear I was trying to be respectful today, but you were such a tease, on those little shorts, made me hard as soon as you walked in the paddock” he went down to suck your left boob in his mouth and you were so sensitive you couldn’t help but moan, loudly. “Yeah baby, let me hear you. Let everyone hear you” He said releasing your boob and nibbling at it. “I saw how the guys were staring at your ass today. Fuckers, couldn’t help themselves. Let them stare…as long as they know who you belong to” he said leaning down to suck on your other boob. “Tell me who you belong to” his voice was so low.

“Uh…you” You were a moaning mess.

“Huh?”

“You, Daniel! I’m yours”

“That’s right”

“Please” you begged.

“What is it? What you what baby?” he whispered against your skin.

“Touch me, please”

“But I am touching you baby” he said and you heard the smirk in his voice. “Oh, I see what you mean… you want me to touch your pussy?”

“Yeah” you nodded. At the same time this was torture, it felt so, so good.

“This fucking perfect cunt of yours” he said sliding two fingers through your lips and opening them to spread you to him, you were soaking wet and pulsating, clenching around nothing. “Fuck, look at this” He said almost to himself, licking his lips. Then he slid his fingers in, curling them up, making a ‘come here’ motion. He dipped his head down, kissing the inside of your leg, then right over your clit, taking it in between his lips and sucking. You moaned loudly. “Oh sorry baby… you wanted it rough, huh?” he sucked your clit harder, then bit on it lightly. You could scream at how much pleasure he was giving you.

“Fuck! Oh my god Dan” He started to tease you with another finger meanwhile.

“Think you can take another one?” his words sending vibrations against you and making you forget how to form words. “I know you can, you take me so well. Such a good girl for me” he inserted another finger and started to pump them in and out of you faster. “So fucking tight. Can’t wait to feel you around me. That’s my favorite place you know? Buried deep inside your cunt” that was it, you came, hard. Arching your back and hips, Daniel releasing your hands to push you down and hold you there while you came and he kept sucking and licking and biting your clit. You couldn’t take anymore, you pushed him away, pulling his hair.

“Can’t-” You tried to say. “Dan”

“Yes, you can. Come here” He said pulling away and lifting you, dragging you out of the bed and into the bathroom, the rest of your clothes and his towel getting lost in the way. He pushed you against the sink, pulling your face up, making you look at yourself on the mirror. He was pressing against you from behind, his cock leaking in between your legs. “I want you to see what I see” he said staring at you through the mirror. “Gonna fuck you so good, you don’t ever forget how fucking perfect you are” and with that he slammed inside you. “Fucking-” he had one hand on your hair and the other around you, between your folders, massaging your clit. “Fucking heaven, taking me so good”

“Ah Dan” You screamed. He started to fuck you hard and fast, pushing you against the sink. You lifted your head and looked at the mirror, it was the most erotic thing you’ve ever seen. Daniel was dripping sweat, thrusting with perfect precision. His eyes were locked on yours and you knew he was as close as you. The thought of how deep the connection between you were at that moment made you clench again and he lost it, giving you one final thrust and a guttural groan. You came again, shaking more than ever, the feeling too much this time. “I can’t-” You tried to say again. “Too much-” Squeezing him over and over, so he pulled out, still spilling, making a mess over your legs and on the bathroom floor. He was still holding you though.

“I’m right here baby. Right here” He whispered on you ear from behind. You both were riding out your orgasms, rocking slightly, your body leaned on the sink, pressing your boobs against it, and he leaning over you, breathing hard.

After you both calmed down, you tried to move but his weight was too much. You let out a weak laugh and he moved. “Sorry” he said kissing your back. When you got up, you turned to him and kissed him lightly.

“You are-” You said against his lips “amazing”. And kissed him again, lovinly. “Thank you. You make me feel so good, Daniel. Let me take care of you now”

Daniel's POV

This woman is trying to kill me. “Baby I don’t think I have it in me-” “Not like that” she smiled. “I meant with a bath” she said gesturing to the bathtub.

“Yes, please” I said already opening the tap and letting the water run. She went back to the room and returned with a water bottle, taking a sip before passing it to me. I took it from her hand and almost finished it, before giving it back to her.

“Do they have any bubbles? Bath salts?” she asked.

“Hum…I don’t think so, baby” I answered looking around on the sink.

“That’s fine” she smiled, getting in the tub and motioning for me to sit in between her legs. Her hair was up in a knot, but some of it was clinging to her neck due to the sweat. She was so beautiful, I can’t believe she wants me.

“You don’t want me to stay behind you?” she shook her head smiling and I did as she asked, leaning on her. The tap was still running, filling the tub with hot water, while we two of us just soaked in there, relaxing. “This is nice,” I said while she ran her hands through my hair. When the tub was full enough, she turned off the water and applied some body wash on my skin, running her hand over my back and shoulders, it felt so good, so comfortable, like I didn’t have a worry in the world. Then I washed her legs around me, kissing her feet and calves and making her giggle. She kept massaging my shoulders. We stayed there for good while, half an hour? More or less? There’s nothing else in the world other than this bathroom anyway, so who cares?

“Can we stay here forever?” She asked me after a while, kissing behind my neck. I just hummed in response. “Actually, scratch that. I’m getting hungry. And thirsty”

“The limitations of the human body” I said jokingly but got out of the tub after a few minutes. If m’lady wants to eat, I’m getting her food. I dried myself, wrapping a towel around me and holding hers open for her to step out of the tub.

We went back to the room, she picked her clothes from the floor and put them away in her travel bag back inside the closet. I watched as she got a fresh pair of underwear and a clean bra, while I put on boxers and sweatpants. She wore some leggings that hugged her ass perfectly, what a view. I noticed her going through her bag, probably looking for a shirt but I just wanted her to wear some clothing of mine, so I took the hoodie I was going to wear and passed it to her. She smiled and accepted it, it looked oversized on her and covered her ass, but maybe that’s a good thing, I don’t need anyone thirsting over what’s mine, I don’t care how much of a prick that makes me sound.

"Do you wanna order or go out to eat?" I asked her.

"Let's just go downstairs, to the restaurant?"

"Yeah, that's fine" I say and peck her lips.

I put on a sweatshirt, and hold the door open for her. We walk out and the temperature was a bit colder out here in the hallway (or maybe it was just too hot inside the room), so I just take her hand and intertwine our fingers, passing my arms around her and holding her closer. I just love that I can do that whenever I want.

And I plan on doing that for the rest of my life.

#Daniel Ricciardo #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo fanfic #formula one #formula one fanfiction

[the-bau-quinjet]

Always

Summary: You overhear Steve talking to Bucky about going back to be with Peggy. Rather than confronting the situation, you write him a letter.

Warnings: I cried just thinking about writing this, so much angst, some swearing

Word Count: 3305

a/n: here it is folks: the sad fic I mentioned a few posts ago. Inspired by a multitude of songs from the album Ashlyn by Ashe. I high key recommend listening to that album while you read or just in general. I'm pretending like nobody died in Endgame because that shit is sad and I know this is sad aside from that, but I still have a heart ya know?

Per usual, any song lyrics (or song lyrics that I changed a bit) are in bold! I think used lyrics from Me Without You, Save Myself, I'm Fine, Love is Not Enough, and Always.

Masterlist

"You'd really want to go back?" You overheard Bucky right before you walked into Steve's room.

"I don't know." He let out a deep sigh. "I mean, I do know, but what do you think?" Steve's answer left you wondering what they were discussing.

"All for Peggy?" Your heart stopped waiting for Steve to reply.

Another sigh escaped his lips. You could easily picture him running his hands down his face, a signal he was deep in thought. "I mean, I never got a chance to see what would happen with her. Don't you think she deserves this much?"

You felt frozen. You couldn't hear the rest of Steve's answer or Bucky's reply over the sound of blood rushing through your ears.

It was all too much to handle. Rather than confront the grab bag of emotions swimming inside of you, you turned around and went back to your room in a zombie like haze.

"Friday, don't let anyone in my room."

You know the AI replied, but you were still too caught up in thought to understand it. Your mind was full of questions you knew you couldn't figure out the answers to alone.

Why would Steve want to go back for Peggy when he had you? Why would he even consider it if he loved you like he said he does? Is he still in love with Peggy? Has he been in love with her the whole time? Why would he choose her when he's spent so much more time with you?

"Y/N?" The sound of Steve's voice outside your door startled you. "Y/N, honey, are you in there?"

You could hear the doorknob rattling in his attempt to open it, but Friday was doing as you asked.

"I thought you were going to meet me downstairs?"

His words only broke your heart more, a small sniffle escaping despite your efforts to remain quiet.

"Are you not feeling well? What's wrong?"

His questions were left unanswered, much like the questions swimming around your head.

Steve kept talking to you through the door for a while, but you never replied. You weren't ready to face him, not until you knew you wouldn't say something you'd later regret.

-

The next few days carried on much the same. You refused to leave your room, relying on various snacks and protein bars you had for food. Every few hours, you would try to write down what you were feeling, but it didn't help calm you down the same way it typically did.

Everyone tried talking to you, but nothing worked. Steve spent hours outside your door every day in an effort to get you to talk to him, but you just couldn't figure out your emotions. It was all still too much to handle.

Late one night, Steve said something that forced you into action.

"Y/N, I don't know what happened, but if I did something I'm truly sorry. I'm returning the stones tomorrow. We've never not said goodbye before a mission... I just hope this one is the same."

You listened as he quietly walked back down the hallway, steps slowly receding until you were left in the same absolute silence you've spent the last few days.

You knew you had to talk to him, but hearing him say to your face that he's staying with Peggy would kill you.

You couldn't survive a permanent goodbye, not in your current state of mind.

After a few minutes of silent contemplation, you decided to write Steve a letter. Maybe you'd give it to him or maybe it would just help you organize your thoughts. Either way, it would be helpful to write to someone for a change.

Hi Steve,

I, well, I guess I'll start with this. You deserve an apology. I'm truly sorry for ignoring you for the past few days. I just... I heard what you said to Bucky and I didn't know how to deal with it.

You know I've never been the best at controlling my emotions, so I just holed myself up in here. I avoided you so I could figure out my own feelings first.

I know I should talk to you. You deserve that too, but I don't think I could survive the heartbreak. I guess I'll try to explain everything I've been thinking and feeling since that night.

Honestly, I'm not sure where to start. It feels kind of stupid to say, but I obviously experienced a range of emotions when I first heard you and Bucky talking about going back.

You know I've always found solace in writing, so that's what I'm doing. I needed a way to clear my thoughts, and it turned into this concoction of thoughts and some poems - you know how I feel about poems. (Look at that! A sarcastic comment! I didn't think I was capable of humor anymore.)

This might not surprise you, but the first emotion I clung to was anger. I'm not angry anymore, well at least not as angry. Anyway, I wrote this next part when I was absolutely pissed at you.

-

What the fuck?

You want to go back in time and stay there?

You want to leave me behind?

Steve, what the fuck is wrong with you?

I could keep you here. If I really wanted to, I could figure out a way to do it. I could cut the brakes just to keep you from leaving. I'll do it too. My hands on the wheel would drive us into a wall.

You must think I'm being petty. Hiding in my room like a child to avoid you. All the while, here I am writing all the things I could do to keep you. Well, news flash: I don't need you. You made me think the only world I could exist in, was one you lived in, almost had me fooled.

Here's something you probably never considered, because I sure as shit never thought I'd even need to. I can be me without you. I don't have to rely on you for my own happiness. I thought you loved me, but if you want to go back and be with Peggy, do it. Go find yourself, let me down.

It's easy to sit here now and look back on how everything we had would always be second string to your relationship with her. God damn hindsight's 2020.

I want you to know, you did this to me. You broke my heart. When I heard you say you wanted a chance to be with Peggy, it's like my whole world crumbled down around me.

Everything I thought I knew was ripped out from under me. You poured rain all over my sunny. Yeah, someday, this could all be funny, but right now it's absolute shit.

And maybe everything will work out the way it's meant to be, but honestly I couldn't give less of a shit about that right now.

If I had the chance, I would take it back. Everything. Meeting you. Becoming friends. Dating you. Falling in love. I'd be jumping off your sinking ship, instead of going down with it.

It'd be so much easier that way. If I never fucking knew you.

One day I'll be good. I'll be over all of this bullshit. Right now I'm just mad. And you know what, it's justifiable. I think I'm allowed to be mad at you.

I'm over being so mature. If only I was never yours. Maybe I'll go back in time and undo it all. Then at least I could save myself from you.

-

Like I said, I wrote that in the heat of the moment. Once my brain caught up to my ears, all I saw was red. Anger didn't last as long as you might think though.

All that was how I felt in the moment, but I want you to know it's not true. I don't really believe any of it. I was hurt and angry and avoiding the pain I knew was just around the corner.

I've always told you anger would be my downfall because I just can't control what I say.

Let me be completely clear, I would never want to undo meeting you. You've been the best part of my life for years. I need you to know that I don't regret any of it and I never will.

Anyway, the anger shifted to tears pretty quickly. It wasn't hard to feel the pain that comes with someone you love leaving you. I can't honestly picture a world where I don't love you.

This is the first poem I wrote. With tear blurring my vision, I put pen to paper and this is what came out.

Complicated. Understated. On the way to, Devastated. I'm just holding on for dear life.

Short and sweet, right? Well, not so much sweet, but you get the point. I feel broken. Here's another bit of poetry for ya.

Right now I'm sorry, Burns through me darling, But I can't help hope In thirty years it won't.

Maybe I just need time. That's what everyone always says. "Time can heal all wounds."

It's hard to even think about moving on though when everything reminds me of you. I've got emotional souvenirs from fleeting moments we spent together. If this is the end, I'll always know you were my golden years. I know in the future I could close my eyes and go back there.

Maybe that's the hardest part. Knowing I'll always have these memories.

All I've been thinking about for the past three days is if this will ever feel better. And maybe it will, when time has passed.

Maybe when I'm older, I'll run out of stories about you. Maybe when I'm older, I'll know what it's like not to love you, Anymore.

Despite my best efforts, it's still only a maybe. Maybe when I'm older I'll be able to stop thinking about you every second of the day. Maybe when I'm older I won't feel like crying everytime I see your face.

But maybe not. Maybe I'll always feel this way.

Maybe when I'm six feet, underneath the concrete, I'll know what it's like not to want you, anymore.

I'm not saying all this to make you feel guilty. You don't need to tell me you're sorry. I know you are. I know you would never hurt me like this without a reason.

I should just talk to you, but I don't think I can. Not yet. We don't need to talk til we're ready. Both of us.

I guess I do have one question. Do you really love me?

I don't think I want to know the answer right now. Because even if you do... it takes a lot more than a rose, more than a kiss, more than a heart to truly love someone and spend forever with them.

It takes a lot more than a ring, more than a vow, more than a promise to build and maintain a relationship.

Love is not enough. I know that now. Even if you love me to the best of your abilities, you could still love Peggy more. Love may not be enough for us, but at least we got that much.

If you leave, I'll live the rest of my life grateful that at least I got your touch for as long as I did.

I used to think we could take our sweet time, that everything would be just fine. But now I know maybe not.

I cried for days. Like I said, I'm not writing this to make you feel guilty though. I just want to be completely honest. I cried a lot, probably more than I ever have before.

I kept replaying memories of time I spent with you. Not even dates, just the small moments that made me know I love you.

Like that day I woke up too early, almost put salt in my coffee. Oh I thank God that you stopped me before that.

I've never been a morning person, but ever since I met you you've always been there to keep my head on straight.

I think the thing I love most about you is how you can read me better than anyone I've ever known. I can hide from everyone else and they won't bat an eye. They never can tell when I'm falling apart on the inside.

No matter how hard I try to hide it though, you don't believe me when I say I'm alright. You can always, always tell.

It's like you've got a sixth sense that tells you I need you when I try to say I'm fine.

Before I met you, I would get so lonely everyday. Now I'm only lonely until you ask if I'm okay and then I remember that I have people who are there for me. I have you.

All this to say, I love you, Steve. I love you more than I've ever loved another human being.

Forever yours,

Y/N

-

It took you nearly all night to write a coherent letter and come up with a plan to talk to Steve. A quick glance at the clock let you know Steve would be up any minute, so you had to act fast.

You opened your door for the first time in days, running in a full sprint to the stairs and down the hall to Steve's door.

With one final burst of courage, you shoved the letter under the door and ran away before anyone could find you out of your room.

-

"Y/N?" A familiar knock on your door woke you from a restless sleep. "I read your letter, Y/N please let me explain."

It felt like time slowed down as you stared at the door.

"Y/N, I have to bring the stones back, but I really want to talk to you first."

"Come in." You steadied yourself with a deep breath, but one look at Steve ruined your flimsy resolve.

"Y/N... I tried to wait for you to come to me, but..."

He stopped talking when you shook your head, a painful sob forming in your chest.

"I've been thinking a lot." You started slowly, voice scratchy from days of not being used except to cry. "What if staying with me isn't the best thing to keep you happy?"

"Y/N, I-"

"Please let me finish." You waited for him to acknowledge your words before you spoke again.

"If letting you go is the best way to show that I love you, I will." Tears poured down your cheeks, breaths coming to you shakily.

"Captain Rogers, your presence is requested in the backyard." Friday's voice echoed through the room.

Steve looked more torn than you've ever seen him.

"Let's go." You nodded toward the door. "I've got more to say, but you've got somewhere to be."

Slowly, the two of you walked down the hall and entered the elevator.

"I don't know if you'll ever come back-"

"Y/N, really just let me-"

"Steve, please." You begged him to let you get it all out. "I won't ask 'cause that's selfish."

"It's not." He cut in again.

"It is. You deserve to be as happy as possible." With a slow, shaky breath you continued your speech. "I've come to terms I might never feel whole again."

The elevator doors slid open. You followed Steve to the yard where they set up the time machine.

"I'll be broken when you're gone, but I won't hold you back if it's wrong."

"Steve, there you are! Let's go-"

"In a minute, Sam." Steve's eyes never left you, remaining soft and caring. "We can go back inside if you want." He ran his thumbs over your cheeks, ridding them of tears only to be instantly replaced. You've always hated crying in front of people.

"I don't care what people say." You shook your head, ignoring the potential pitying looks you could receive for crying in front of others. Another deep breath, and you continued. "You know I won't force you to stay."

It was your turn to wipe tears from Steve's face.

"If you leave, I'll be okay. Just promise that you won't forget me babe."

"I could never-" He cut in again only to stop when you gave him a pleading look.

"I understand if leaving is what you have to do. I don't want you to go, but I'll be okay, eventually." You let out a watery chuckle, wiping your eyes again.

"Y/N, I never meant for-"

"Steve, you ready?" Sam interrupted again.

"It's fine. You can go." You did your best to hold back any lingering tears. You had to physically turn Steve around yourself and push him towards the machine.

"Y/N, please, I can't-"

"Steve, they're waiting for you. It's okay, I promise." He finally started to walk away only to pause when you called out one more thing. "Oh, Steve?"

"Yeah?" He wore a solemn smile.

"I'll love you always."

You watched as he listened to Banner's instructions and bid farewell to Sam and Bucky. The bitter part of you wondered if Sam knew.

A strangled sob left your mouth as soon as Steve disappeared. All three men standing around the machine looked your way, Sam and Bucky running toward you to help.

"He should be back any second. It's fine!" Sam desperately tried to console you, but you knew it wouldn't work.

"Y/N. Y/N! Listen to me. Did Steve talk to you?" Bucky asked, ignoring Sam's bewildered expression.

You nodded pitifully.

"Did he explain-" You cut him off.

"He- he didn't ha-have time.: You stuttered as you tried desperately to gulp in air through the tears. "I did most of the talking. I needed him to know it was okay."

"To know what was okay?" Sam asked, still clearly confused.

The thought of explaining it only broke you down more. You would have fallen to the ground if not for Bucky catching you. Your body leaned into his.

"Doll..." Bucky shook his head. "You should have let him explain."

You choked on another sob just thinking about it.

"Shh, it's okay. You'll be okay." Bucky whispered in your ear, ignoring Sam's confused glares.

"Y/N..." The sound of Steve's voice echoed in your ears causing another painful sob to jolt through your body.

"Baby, please look at me."

You genuinely thought you were hallucinating when you opened your eyes to see Steve towering over you.

"Steve?" Your voice was barely a whisper.

"It's me, I'm here." He gently took you from Bucky's arms, cradling you close to him but leaning his head far enough away for you to look into your eyes.

"You came back..." Your tears slowed, gently falling down your cheeks as you stared at him wide-eyed.

"I was never planning to leave." He spoke while gently stroking your hair.

"B-but, you were talking to Bucky about going back?" Your tears gave way to confusion as you glanced between him and Bucky.

"Just to say goodbye." He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, breathing in your scent. "I just thought she deserved a real goodbye."

New tears pooled in your eyes as you took in his words. "So, you never wanted to leave me?"

"I could never, and would never, leave you. I love you so much. I just wish I knew why you were holed up in your room sooner." He smiled at you, the same adoring smile he gave you the first time you met.

"I love you too. Always." You leaned into his embrace, relishing in the touch you thought you'd lost forever. He whispered his reply, clinging to you just as much as you were to him.

"Always."

a/n: today I discovered I am truly incapable of writing a sad ending. I just like the idea of escaping to a reality where Steve would never abandon me.

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner

@jesuswasnotawhiteman

@strawberryspence

@sebastnstn

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers angst #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fluff

[kittydemon9000]

The Beginning of Heatstroke, aka Red's Villain Origin

* crashes down from the ceiling * I HAVE FINALLY FINISHED ONE OF MY 5+ CURRENT WRITING PROJECTS! BEHOLD, A WRITTEN VERSION OF THE 'Red's Villain Origin AU', also known as RVO / Heatstroke AU

To summarize the AU for SPBNR for those that don't now it: 

“Who'd be the biggest conspiracy theorist out of the M!Ninja? The one who drinks 5 hour energy at 3am and spits off the craziest theories and then actually gets it right but nobody gives the theory any merit because the rest of the theories are too crazy?”

The answer: Red / M!Kai

Red: Okay hear me out: Smith is actually an alternative version of one of us sent here from another dimension.

The other M!Ninja: You’re just saying that because Smith’s cool and you want him to be your counterpart

Based on the M!ninja making red cork boards trying to figure out ‘What Is Up With Smith’: Red gets increasingly accurate and nobody will believe him (all pre shogun reveal) and he eventually snaps and takes up a secret villain persona to fight Shogun like 'if they won't believe me I'll do it myself' and it gets awkward when he accidentally does too much damage and catches not only Shogun's attention like planned, but also the rest of the Ninjaforce, and now he has to keep his own identity a secret

So, without further ado, I present... Heatstroke

------------

Red blamed the 5-hour energy coffee blend at 3:00am for this.

It was no surprise that between ‘Operation: What’s Going on with Smith’ & the sudden appearance of Shogun that the resident Bounty red-stringed ‘joke’ cork-board doubled in size and seriousness. It also was no surprise that Red had a corner all to himself and that his theories were… in the words of the others, ‘wildly inaccurate and implausible’.

But this time, he was sure he’d gotten it right.

Smith is Shogun sent here from another continent/planet/dimension with the goal of protecting Ninjago City.

The latest string of laughs and scoffs at his theory was the last straw. He’d show them. He’d prove it!

Which was why he was currently standing on the roof of a noodle house, awkwardly adjusting the spare motorcycle helmet he’d ‘borrowed’ from Nya and painted black and orangey-yellow (red had seemed too obvious). He’d exchanged his Ninjaforce outfit for a soot-burned cross between a bomber jacket and a leather jacket. Down his back jutted a row of flames like the spines of a monster, courtesy of one of Nya & Jay’s unfinished inventions Red had modified- surely nothing bad would come of that!

For tonight, the Red Ninja was off-duty. For tonight, it was Heatstroke’s turn.

He fiddled with one of the weapons he’d ‘lent out’ from Master Wu. It resembled a small arm canon, like a smaller version of the Ultimate Weapon. The plaque under its post had read ‘Elemental Focuser’, which, in cryptic Wu speak, probably translated to ‘you can use an elemental power like something out of Avatar: The Last Airbender’. So far he’d only figured out how to activate a focused jet of fire. Well, at least it was on brand. He hoped it would help him catch Shogun’s attention so he could unmask him.

He’d tried confronting Smith at school, of course. But there were only so many ways of saying ‘are you the new vigilante helping the ninjas’, and Smith has a genuine talent for dancing around the topic. Red could confront him with the name Shogun to get a proper reaction, but that would mean explaining how he knew the name and outing himself as the Red Ninja.

So fake villainy really was the only way.

His plan was to use the Elemental Focuser to cause some minor petty damage, just enough to attract the new vigilante. Perhaps set a trash can on fire, block an alleyway with rocks (if he figured out how to change the setting from fire to earth), small things that could easily be repaired.

Of course, plans were never actually stuck to. One way or another, something was always improvised.

Red’s improvisation just happened to involve him accidentally setting the entire alleyway on fire.

He’d only been aiming for one dumpster, honest! And maybe he’d spotted a couple fliers for a SoG meeting on the ground and happened to burn those too. And a newspaper article blaming Lloyd for the recent Garmadon attack, again. And an article about those ‘Damn Ninja Menaces’ by a S. Sonah Sameson. And-

Okay, so maybe Red had aimed the fire at a few small targets. But just a few! And with good reason and good care, but…

Well, fire liked to burn. Give it enough kindle and it’ll continue to grow, stretching like reaching branches towards each other to join in a massive bonfire. 

So now the entire alleyway was on fire, and Red was panicking. 

He’d luckily chosen an abandoned part of town near the beaches where Shogun sightings seemed most frequent, but with the stupid Elemental Focuser not switching from fire mode to water mode or ice mode or something that didn’t have the potential to burn Ninjago City to the ground, Red had no way of stopping the flames.

And more flames meant more destruction which meant a bigger audience.

Which was why his previously muted comm suddenly flared to life, the only warning Red had before Nya’s water strider mech slid around the corner.

Red scrambled onto a roof as the mech drove past, spraying water at the bonfire to dose it. His sigh of relief was just as quickly dosed as Lloyd’s voice came over the comms; “Status, Grey?”

“Flames are out,” Nya replied. “Pursing the joker that set it ablaze.”

Uh oh. Red took off across the roof, leaping from building to building. Tiles creaked, pebbled and dust scattering underfoot. The sounds of the mech’s engine roaring behind him echoed through alleyways below to create the illusion the mech was everywhere at once. 

As the chase grew on, more mechs started to join in. Red ducked into a narrow avenue to avoid Zane’s tank, then under a cafe overhang to throw off Jay and Lloyd. His heart hammered in his chest and he groaned, filling the inside of the motorcycle helmet with steam. Saying this was going ‘bad’ would be the understatement of the century. 

What had he been thinking? Oh wait: he hadn’t. Seriously? ‘Oh I’ll just pretend to be a villain real quick, that should get Shogun’s attention and not the attention of literally my entire team of fellow ninjas!’ Stupid, impulsive, this was why everyone was always calling the red ninja the ‘hothead’ when he really tried not to be- Lloyd’s voice over the comms snapped him from his thoughts. “I can’t catch them! It’s like they know our every move!”

Red winced as he climbed up a banister and leapt from balcony to balcony. Sorry, Lloyd. 

He didn’t miss how the others asked Nya where Red was. And how she made up excuses the others bought so easily- granted, he’d told those excuses to his sister before setting his plan into motion, but still, ouch. They acted like he was simply being at best too busy and at worst lazy and selfish.

He just wanted them to know the truth! Why couldn’t they at least try to believe him when-

Of course, that was when Shogun dropped out of the sky and tackled him.

Red shouted with surprise as he tumbled down from the second floor, slamming into a few softer bags of garbage to break his fall before rolling and slamming into the unforgiving concrete. A crack formed in his vision as the visor of his motorbike helmet smacked into the concrete ground. One of the fire jets on his back sputtered and sparked, sending a thin wisp of smoke into the air.

Shogun pinned his wrists to the ground and growled. “Who are you?”

Red tried to break free, agony turning his muscles and bones to fire with the movement after his fall, but the vigilante was too strong. Damn, how often did this guy train?

“Who am I?” Red said, a nervous tinge to his voice. He quickly smoothed it over with faked confidence. “Who are you? Who are all of us, really?”

Shogun narrowed his eyes behind his hood. “Did Garmadon send you? Or someone else?”

Red sputtered. Really, the nerve! Garmadon? The thought turned his insides to disgusting mud. “Nobody sent me!”

“Then why are you here?” Shogun spat.

“Why am I here?” Why was he here again? Oh right, the bright idea on how to reveal that Shogun was Smith. “It’s, uh… a valid reason! That I don’t have to tell you!” He tried for a villainous laugh. Stay in character, don’t blow your cover, you got this!

Shogun was unimpressed. “Nearly burning down my home was a valid reason?”

“Well, I wasn’t trying to set everything on- wait, WHAT?” Uh oh. “You LIVE here?”

Now it was Shogun’s turn to look uncomfortable, though the expression was quickly wiped from his face. “Nothing wrong with this district.” 

Red nodded. “‘Course not. Uh, sorry about that… wasn’t my intention, I swear.”

Shoot, he could hear Jay’s jet getting closer. He had to get out of here, but Shogun, annoyingly, didn’t seem to be in the mood to simply let him go. “Then what is your intention?”

“Well, for starters, it’s getting out of here. This really isn’t going to plan and I’d rather just be home right now, or even inventing a time machine like in that book ‘Hands of Time’ to slap my past self in the face for even thinking about this stupid idea in the first place-“

Jay wasn’t the only one that could ramble under pressure, it seemed.

Shogun leaned closer. “What idea?”

Red shrugged as best he could with how he was pinned to the ground. “Well, for starters, I just wanted to prove to my friends that you’re Smith, and things just kinda escalated from-”

The words were out of his mouth before he realized what he said. 

Shogun lurched back, letting go of him. His eyes betrayed a kaleidoscope of emotions; surprise, worry, suspicious, hurt, fear, realization. 

“…Kai?”

Well, f!ck.

“I-“

Red was about to badly attempt to bullsh!t his way out of his identity reveal before it suddenly dawned on him that Shogun had not denied his theory. 

Which meant Shogun was Smith.

And it also meant Smith instantly recognized him as Kai, which, considering his disguise, was aptly concerning. Sure, he was the first one in his group of friends people would think to do something this extreme but give him some credit! Zane was a regular detective, he’d do the same if it meant answers! Or, well, at least something similar. And Nya could be an adrenaline seeker. And Lloyd- well, maybe not Lloyd. Or Jay, either. Cole had his head just enough on his shoulders that he probably wouldn’t do this either.

But come on, instantly guessing it?

Well, at least Smith/Shogun didn’t know Kai was the Red Ninja. That would be a catastrophe.

Right. Back to the current catastrophe at hand.

Shogun- Smith- still had a look as if he’d been slapped, and Red hated it. He hadn’t meant to hurt his friend. Shogun… Shogun hadn’t wanted them to find out his identity. And then Red had gone and done it, just to prove that he could be the smart one, or a leader, or the protector so they didn’t get hurt, or literally anything but just the ‘hotheaded one’. 

…And he’d done it in the most hotheaded, impulsive way possible.

He really was an idiot.

The cracked helmet hid the look on his face, a twisted mess of distraught and shame. But it didn’t help hide how he took stumbled to his feet and away from Smith, nervous that any second he’d spill another mistake and mess up again, like how he always freaking messed up on everything. Don’t pick this fight, interject there instead, no, not there, idiot, there, FMS why are you so useless-

Focus, focus.

Lloyd’s voice, sharp in the intercom and full of static from his tumble, snapped him from his thoughts. “Anyone got eyes on the arsonist?”

Red caught Smith’s eye as he raised his hand to his own communicator. He was so screwed, so busted, so doomed… Smith would report it, and the others would know, and they’d think he was just messing around in an alleyway with some stolen devices and weapons out of curiosity or rage, - and-

“None yet, still looking.”

…What?

Smith stared at him, gaze searching. He looked shaken, more so than Red- who’d just taken a fall from a second story, mind you, it was a miracle he wasn’t more injured than a couple small scrapes and some future bruises-, yet everything from the set of his jaw to the softening of his furrowed brows suggested a change in emotions. Well, not quite change; more like repress and replace.

“You wanted to prove yourself, didn’t you.”

Red flushed, hand instinctually clamping into a tight fist at his side. The still-working fire jets on his back ignited without him pressing any buttons; faulty activation from the fall or something. 

Palms up and hands raised, Smith silently asked to defuse the situation. “Didn’t mean it as an insult. This wasn’t about venting some anger, was it.”

Red’s lack of response only confirmed it. Smith continued. “I won’t say anything about this if you don’t tell anyone my identity. Deal? I know finding it out was important to you, but-“

“Deal,” Red interrupted. Guilt ate away at his core, like a wave of water dousing a candle. “Smith, I-“ He swallowed hard and stared at the alley floor. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… to…”

Smith’s hand was suddenly on his shoulder and he flinched before relaxing as Smith didn’t move further, nor did the grip tighten. “I’m a little hurt, you’re right. But I’m not mad. And I won’t tell the others, so you can relax. But you better get out of here and get yourself an alibi. We can talk at school or something.”

Wow, he was handling this rather calmly. Red was struck by the sudden memory of- what did Jay call the word? Right. Compartmentalizing. That… wasn’t healthy. But at the roar of Lloyd’s mech somewhere nearby, he didn’t comment further. Instead, he shot Smith a grateful nod and ran down the alley, sticking to the shadows and blind spots of the flying mechs and the tight alleyways where the land mechs couldn’t reach him. 

When he got home, miraculously without further incident (though Shogun leading the others on a wild goose chase over the comms certainly helped there), he ditched the outfit in a bag hidden beneath a loose floorboard in the shed. He’d return the weapon to Master Wu’s ship later, and… well, hope Nya never searched for the missing supplies. There wasn’t a way of fixing it without involving her or Jay, and neither was an option.

Heatstroke was back off duty, and so was the Red Ninja.

For now, he could just be Kai Smith. And there wasn’t any issue with that.

…

Right?

—————

yooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THIS IS AMAZING REHJJGFHDESFXJVZ

and ah yes, good ol trauma and compartmentalizing, we love to see it

#We love ourselves some good ol aus #same people but not really #Spbnr #spbnr aus

[theartofdreaming1]

Katniss, bravely stepping inbetween Gale and Thread (and his whip) - she’s so courageous and protective, she deserves the world 😭

As usual, my thoughts regarding this week’s prompts and (many) random thoughts on chapters 7-9 are below the cut. (Is it just me, or are my notes getting longer and longer with each and every post? I swear, this book is so meaty, we’ll soon reach the point where I have to type out the entire chapter, with my thoughts in the margins)

heart

“Gale is mine. I am his. Anything else in unthinkable.” 

I think these words are a result of Katniss being so afraid of losing Gale that she’s kinda overcompensating; their relationship has been strained these past few months and they’d just had a row, separating from each other on bad terms - and the next time she sees him, he’s been whipped so bad that he’s lost consciousness and could be potentially dying from his wounds. Of course she’s so terrified of losing him, that she’s holding on as tightly as she can to him. It’s important to keep in mind how important their relationship is to her and we see that in her preceding thoughts: What a pair we were - fatherless, frightened, but fiercely commited, too, to keeping our families alive. Desperate, yet no longer alone after that day, because we’d found each other. I think of a hundred moments in the woods, lazy afternoons fishing, the day I taught him to swim, that time I twisted my knee and he carried me home. Mutually counting each other, watching each other’s backs, forcing each other to be brave. - Gale was the first person who was her equal, a kindred spirit, her partner. After Katniss had lost both of her parents when her father died and her mother succumbed to her depression - the people who were supposed to care for her and guide her through growing up - she was stuck with the role of sole provider and protector of her family at age eleven. She must have been so lonely all this time until she met this boy who understood what she was going through and they learned from each other and shouldered their burdens together, to take off some of the overwhelming pressure. Of course that relationship, of course Gale is important to her. But also now their relationship has become more fragile, after the Games they are in danger of growing apart - it’s got to be so terrifying to feel like the one proper, mutual relationship you’ve had seems to be slipping through your fingers. With everything that’s going on, her entire life as it is teetering on the razor’s edge (heck, the president himself has been threatening her and her family!), it’s no wonder that Katniss is craving that familiarity and safety that her relationship with Gale used to provide her with. And seeing Gale in this state just has her holding on to him more tightly than ever.

mind

Hmm, no big moment is coming to my mind right now; I think I’m always most impressed by the tiny moments that show how tenacious, resilient and fiercely kind humans can be - like Darius stepping forward to stop Gale’s cruel punishment, Leevy volunteering to tell Hazelle about Gale and promising to stay with the Hawthorne children, Madge bringing the morphling, Katniss pressing Darius’s hand in the Training Center, Twill taking Bonnie with her to flee to D13 and so on.

soul

I believe that Katniss was honestly surprised to learn that Gale had feelings for her; she had categorically shut down the idea of entering a romantic relationship for herself, so I don’t think she’d seriously consider anyone being romantically interested in her in return (that’s not how that works, of course, but I think that’s how she perceived the whole shtick). Their kiss threw her completely for a loop and if anything, she mostly saw it as something that contributed to the deterioration of their previous, easy and comfortable relationship.

Chapter 7

A mockingjay is a creature the Capitol never intended to exist. [...] They hadn’t anticipated its will to live. - In a way, the Capitol continues to make this mistake with the people living in the districts, too - underestimating their will to live (opposed to just surviving)

I look in his [Gale’s] eyes. His temper can’t quite mask the hurt, the sense of betrayal he feels at my engagement to Peeta. This will be my last chance, this meeting today, to not lose Gale forever. - Okay, we don’t know how much Katniss might be (incorrectly) presuming here, but the idea that Gale might feel betrayal because his best friend is being forced into an engagement pisses me off. It’s fine if he’s feeling jealous because she’s being paired off with Peeta when he wishes he could have a shot with her, but how in the world does this even rate as a betrayal?! A) It’s done against her will and B) Just because they’re friends doesn’t mean Katniss owes him anything when we’re talking about romantic feelings... Ugh 😒 Also, it’s quite noteworthy how insecure Katniss feels about their relationship - she’s constantly worried Gale will drop her and their friendship (waiting for Gale after the camera teams left after winning the Games: I’d begun to think that he’d given up on me in the weeks that had passed.- Ch. 2) and it doesn’t help that she’s been through that extreme, traumatic experience without him and they haven’t had much opportunity to spend a lot of time with each other (with the Victory Tour and Gale having to work so much) and when they do hang out, they don’t seem to really talk much, which doesn’t exactly help...

He [Gale] tosses the gloves on my lap. “Here. I don’t want your fiancé’s old gloves.” “He’s not my fiancé. That’s just part of the act. And these aren’t his gloves. They were Cinna’s,” I say. “Give them back, then, he says. - Gale can be so petty sometimes 🙄

While I talk, [...] [Gale] occupies himself with turning the food in the leather bag into a meal for us. Toasting bread and cheese, coring apples, placing chestnuts in the fire to roast. I watch his hands, his beautiful, capable fingers. Scarred, as mine were before the Captiol erased all marks from my skin, but strong and deft. [...] Hands I trust. - Oh boy, this moment really shows how these two are at cross purposes right now - Gale’s prepping the food as you would for a toasting (romantic connotation), while Katniss is oberserving his hands, thinking how their hands used to match (not anymore!) and basically wishing herself back into the time before the Games, when things were ‘simpler’/more clearly defined (and also platonic!); there is nothing romantic from her P.O.V. - it’s all about the friendship and trust

[Gale] steps in and I feel myself lifted off the ground. The room spins, and I have to lock my arms around Gale’s neck to brace myself. He’s laughing, happy. “Hey!” I protest, but I’m laughing, too. Gale sets me down but doesn’t release his hold on me. “Okay, let’s run away.” [...] “You’re sure?” I say. [...] “I’m sure. I’m completely, entirely, one hundred percent sure.” - Yeah, and I’m sure you’re not going to change your opinion in the next five minutes, Gale... In his defense, Gale didn’t know all the details, so in that regard it’s totally valid that he might decide to change his mind after having more input... It’s just that Katniss specifically asks him whether he’s sure and his reply is so full of conviction (100% sure!), only for him to do a complete 180 just a couple of minutes later; Gale’s very hot and cold, which makes for such a harsh contrast when compared to Peeta’s more measured reaction later in the chapter

He tilts his forehead down to rest against mine and pulls me closer. [...] I don’t try to move away. Why should I, anyway? His voice drops to a whisper. “I love you.” That’s why. - Oh man, Katniss just can’t catch a break 😞 Really not wise of Gale to drop the L-bomb here (after, what? a kiss they never talked about and little else... their communication is truly abysmal and it’s really damaging to their relationship, hurting the both of them)

“Gale, I can’t think about anyone that way now. All I can think about, every day, is how afraid I am. And there doesn’t seem to be room for anything else. If we could get somewhere safe, maybe I could be different. I don’t know.” I can see him swallowing his disappointment. “So, we’ll go. We’ll find out.” - I mean, honestly, I totally understand where Katniss is coming from - she doesn’t need a romantic interest, she needs a partner, which is why she’s been so eager to talk to her hunting partner, someone she’s used to rely on for survival and now he’s also confounding their relationship by introducing that romance-angle (as if it wasn’t bad enough that her relationship with Peeta got kind of messed up when that same angle was forced upon them prematurely)... Also, telling how Katniss thinks she’d have to be different to maybe even consider a romantic relationship with Gale - Katniss as she is right now just can’t see herself wanting to be with Gale romantically; it would require a change... I’ve got to give Gale credit for still going along with it, and trying to push past his disappointment, though

“My [Gale’s] mother is going to take some convincing.” [...] “Mine, too. I’ll just have to make her see reason. Take her for a long walk. Make sure she understands we won’t survive the alternative.” “She’ll understand. I watched a lot of the Games with her and Prim. She won’t say no to you,” says Gale. - That’s interesting, I wonder what exactly Gale means by that? That Mrs. Everdeen won’t say no to Katniss because she feels guilty that Katniss had to go through the Games or because watching her daughter compete in the Games really made her realize how messed up Panem is? Or that she’s more inclined to trust Katniss’s judgement after everything that has happened?

“Haymitch will be the real challenge.” “Haymitch?” Gale abandons the chestnuts. “You’re asking him to come with us?” “I have to, Gale. I can’t leave him and Peeta because they’d-” His scowl cuts me off. “What?” “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how large our party was,” he snaps at me. - Gale doesn’t seem to have realized how close and important Peeta and Haymitch have become to Katniss... maybe because they never properly talked about this aspect of Katniss’s life (I swear, their shoddy communication must account for at least half of the damage their relationship has taken in these past few months alone)

“What if he [Peeta] decides to stay?” he [Gale] asks. I try to sound indifferent, but my voice cracks. “Then he stays.” “You’d leave him behind?” Gale asks. “To save Prim and my mother, yes,” I answer. “I mean, no! I’ll get him to come.” “And me, would you leave me?” Gale’s expression is rock hard now. - Boy, oh boy! I think Gale knows (like Peeta) that Katniss could never leave behind the people she cares about; then, he’s kind of gauging whether Peeta has already received the Katniss Everdeen Stamp of ‘Caring’ - and, as it turns out, he has! And then Gale ends up making it into a bit of  competition by asking her whether she would leave him behind (or, alternately, her turning him down has him confused about the depth of their relationship, I dunno); not fun

“There’s an uprising in Eight?” he [Gale] says in a hushed voice. I try to backpedal. To defuse him, as I tried to defuse the districts. - Katniss is going to be about as successful as she’d been at defusing the districts, too - But here we have another example of Katniss trying to rein in Gale’s temper because she’s afraid he’s going to get himself in trouble (like when she decided not to tell him about Snow’s visit to her house because she was worried what he’d do with that information)... It’s really not great that she feels the need to censor herself so he won’t do something dangerous... Katniss knows first-hand how badly impulsive actions and decisions can be received in the Capitol - and she never even meant for a rebellion to happen!

“And it’s my fault, Gale. Because of what I did in the arena. If I had just killed myself with those berries, none of this would’ve happened. Peeta could have come home and lived, and everyone else would have been safe. too.” “Safe to do what?” he says in a gentler tone. “Starve? Work like slaves? Send their kids to the reaping? You haven’t hurt people - you’ve given them an opportunity. They just have to be brave enough to take it. - Katniss is taking all the responsibility upon herself again... Gale is right to point out that she was merely a catalyst, not the cause for the rebellion - the cause are the awful living conditions of the people in the districts

“Stop it! You don’t know what you’re saying. The Peacekeepers outside of Twelve, they’re not like Darius, or even Cray! The lives of district people - they mean less than nothing to them!” I say. “That’s why we have to join the fight!” he answers harshly. “No! we have to leave here before they kill us and a lot of other people, too!” [...] “You leave, then, I’d never go in a million years.” [...] “What about your family?” “What about the other families, Katniss? The ones who can’t run away?” - This discourse is so painful because they are both right - Katniss has seen more of the districts and how things are handled beyond the (relatively tame) confines of D12 and it’s fair that she wants to know that the people she cares about are safe from harm; Gale, of course, has a point commenting that not everyone has that opportunity and the only way to have a long-lasting, wide-spread improvement of their conditions is through rebelling against their oppressor - but that will inevitably come along with sacrifices and collateral damage and it’s easy to say that it will be worth it in the long run, but when those who are hurt/dead could end up being your loved ones, it’s definitely easier said than done

He throws Cinna’s gloves at my feet. “I changed my mind. I don’t want anything they made in the Capitol.” And he’s gone. I look down at the gloves. Anything they made in the Capitol? Was that directed at me? Does he think I am now just another product of the Capitol and therefore something untouchable? The unfairness of it all fills me with rage. But it’s mixed up with fear over what kind of crazy thing he might do next. - Gale getting rid of Cinna’s gloves just because they are from the Capitol is a prime example of this “us vs. them” mindset that he will be (worringly) fast to adopt - of course, perceiving the opposite side as “other” will make it easier to fight against them; however, it’s all too easy to lose sight of your opponent’s humanity when you think like that (think of how Gale has a hard time understanding Katniss’s distress upon seeing her prep team being treated so terribly/inhumanely in D13); Katniss feeling upset that Gale might perceive her as a product of the Capitol instead of its victim is understandable (and isn’t that exactly what the inhabitants of D13 are going to think of Peeta in MJ?) - and yet, she is still worried Gale could get himself into trouble with his impulsivity; she’s a good bean

”Going to town?” I ask. “Yes. I’m supposed to eat dinner with my family,” he [Peeta] says. - I’m tripping over the word ‘supposed’ here - it doesn’t sound like Peeta’s looking forward to hanging out with his fam, although it can’t be that often, since they’ve been away on Victory Tour and he is living alone (maybe the end of the chapter will give us another hint why that is 😒😒)... I can’t help but wonder whether these family dinners are mainly for public perception (in that case... it really is no wonder Peeta is so good at playing the cameras - poor guy had to fool the outside world his entire life) or because they are the only chance for Peeta to hang out with any of the members of his family he might actually want to spend some time with

“Peeta, if I asked you to run away from the district with me, would you?” Peeta takes my arm, bringing me to a stop. He doesn’t need to check my face to see if I’m serious. “Depends on why you’re asking.” President Snow wasn’t convinced by me. There’s an uprising in District Eight. We have to get out,” I say. “By ‘we’ do you mean just you and me? No. Who else would be going?” he asks. - Peeta doesn’t just blindly agree to Katniss’s proposal; he needs to know what’s going on first (he has been burnt before - no more secrets!) - and it’s a testament to how well he knows her that as soon as he’s asking whether she meant just the two of them, he corrects himself because knows that Katniss would never leave the ones she cares about behind

“What about Gale?” he says. “I don’t know. He might have other plans,” I say. Peeta shakes his head and gives me rueful smile. “I bet he does. Sure, Katniss, I’ll go.” I feel a slight twinge of hope. “You will?” “Yeah. But I don’t think for a minute you will,” he says. [...] “Then you don’t know me. Be ready. It could be any time.” - Telling how Peeta immediately agrees to the plan once he gathers that Gale won’t come - he knows that Katniss cares about Gale and could never leave him behind, ergo she’d never actually leave under these circumstances - he knows her so well. Also, Katniss’s reaction is like that of a petulant child, it’s kind of funny 😄

“Katniss, hold up.” [...] “I really will go, if you want me to. I just think we better talk it through with Haymitch. Make sure we won’t be making things worse for everyone.” - Ultimately, Peeta would follow Katniss to the ends of the earth - doesn’t mean that he can’t throw in a sensible suggestion in there as well 😉 (Also, in the next chapter we will see how Katniss, Gale, and Peeta might be a little too inexperienced/naive to be able to form accurate expectations of what is to come - Haymitch and his generation have a little more experience in that regard)

He raises his head. “What’s that?” [...] I haven’t noticed the strange noise coming from the square. A whistling, the sound of an impact, the intake of breath from a crowd. “Come on,” Peeta says, his face suddenly hard. I don’t know why. I can’t place the sound, even guess at the situation. But it means something bad to him. - Why does my sweet boy know what a whipping sounds like, Suzanne, huh?! Care to explain that? 😭

Peeta steps up on a crate against the wall of the sweetshop and offers me a hand while he scans the square. I’m halfway up when he suddenly blocks my way. “Get down. Get out of here!” He’s whispering, but his voice is harsh with insistence. - Peeta was offering his hand to help Katniss up the crate because they are a team (and he’s a gentleman)! It’s only when he recognizes who is receiving those lashes and realizes that Katniss will lose her shit once she knows, which could make the current situation even worse, that he urges her to leave, and he is not the only one to think that: - Voices hiss. “Get out of here, girl.” “Only make it worse.” What do you want to do? Get him killed?”

Chapter 8

It’s too late to stop the arm from descending, and I instinctively know I won’t have the power to block it. Instead I throw myself directly between the whip and Gale. I’ve flung out my arms to protext as much of his broken body as possible, so there’s nothing to deflect the lash. I take the full force of it across the left side of my face. - Katniss is so selfless; she knows that it’s either Gale getting hit again or a lash to her own face and she chooses the latter

“Hold it!” a voice barks. Haymitch appears and trips over a Peacekeeper lying on the ground. It’s Darius. [...] He’s knocked out but still breathing. What happened? Did he try to come to Gale’s aid before I got here? - Haymitch sure appeared quickly - I can easily imagine Peeta taking off immediately to get him (or send someone to bring him to the square) once he knew Katniss couldn’t be stopped; but if Haymitch had been at his house in Victor’s Village, there is no way he’d have made that quickly to the square... maybe he was already at the Hob and had gotten wind of the whole situation? Also, poor Darius! Wearing a uniform/being in some sort of position of power is no guarantee you won’t get punished as soon as you show the tiniest glimpse of compassion - in a place like Panem, nobody is safe from the caprice of the people in charge

I see a flicker of recognition in the eyes of the man with the whip. [...] it wouldn’t be easy to identify me as the victor of the last Hunger Games. Especially with half my face swelling up. But Haymitch has been showing up on television for years, and he’d be difficult to forget. - Getting Haymitch truly was the smartest move to make (which is why I’m pretty sure it was a move on Peeta’s part - he’d know how to use reminders of ‘appearances’ to ensure a punishment wouldn’t go ‘too far’, y’know 😢). But also - Thread must have lived under a flipping rock, to not being able to recognizes Katniss (her face must have been plastered all over the place during the Victory Tour, which just had concluded recently) - or he was just too in the heat of the moment, with someone opposing him, bleugh 😒

“He [Gale] was poaching. What business is it of hers, anyway?” says the man. “He’s her cousin.” Peeta’s got my other arm now, but gently. “And she’s my fiancée. So if you want to get to him, expect to go through both of us.” - I love how Peeta’s just laying it down as it is; his phrasing just sounds so factual, rather than provocative (although it is, of course); he really has a way with words - Maybe we’re it. The only three people in the district who could make a stand like this. Although it’s sure to be temporary. There will be repercussions. - Haymitch, Peeta, and Katniss working together as a team again! Also, a good example of the effect people with public influence can have 

One [Peacekeeper], a woman named Purnia who eats regularly at Greasy Sae’s, steps forward stiffly. “I believe, for a first offense, the required number of lashes has been dispensed, sir. Unless your sentence is death, which we would carry out by firing squad.” “Is that the standard protocol here?” asks the Head Peacekeeper. “Yes, sir,” Purnia says, and several others nod in agreement. I’m sure none of them actually know because, in the Hob, the standard protocol for someone showing up with a wild turkey is for everybody to bid on the drumsticks. - It’s kinda nice to see the local Peacekeepers supporting Purnia’s claim to get this display to stop - this is the only way out of this situation where Thread’s authority is not openly challenged (and we know Thread doesn’t take well to having his authority challenged - see Darius)

There’s no stretcher, but the old woman at the clothing stall sells us the board that serves as her countertop. “Just don’t tell where you got it,” she says, packing up the rest of her goods quickly. Most of the square has emptied, fear getting the better of compassion. But after what happened, I can’t blame anyone. - It’s sad how that air of intimidation makes people want to mask their acts of compassion (and also says a lot about the precariousness of the existing living situations if that old lady is still selling that board - I’d never even consider exchanging money for that, but that’s probably my privileged situation showing here; Katniss brings up the theme of fear vs compassion - very fitting, since it seems to be her driving force (although, generally, her compassion wins out over her fear) and despite her assertion that fear appears to be getting the better of compassion we see a good amount of people reaching out to help, such as the following example:

Leevy, a girl who lives a few houses down from mine in the Seam, takes my arm. My mother kept her little brother alive last year when he caught the measles. “Need help getting back?” Her gray eyes are scared but determined. - The subtle suggestion here that Leevy might be further motivated to help out because Katniss’s mom helped her little brother is also an excellent example of how kindness breeds kindness

“Get some snow on that,” Haymitch orders over his shoulder. I scoop up a handful of snow and press it against my cheek, numbing a bit of the pain. - This moment reminded me of Peeta immediately reaching for some ice from that fruit tureen after Haymitch hit him on their way to the Games in THG (Ch. 4) - their different immediate reactions to getting hit in the face could simply be due to the fact that Katniss is a little too preoccupied worrying about Gale to think about her injury, of course, but I feel like you could also interpret them as examples for how much experience Katniss and Peeta have with being hit in the face, respectively...

Gale must have gone to Cray’s house, as he’s done a hundred times, knowing Cray pays well for a wild turkey. Instead he found the new Head Peacekeeper, a man they heard someone call Romulus Thread. No one knows what happened to Cray. He was buying white liquor in the Hob just this morning [...] but now he’s nowhere to be found. - As I’ve already mentioned regarding Darius, inhabiting some position of power does not guarantee you any safety in Panem (there is always someone more powerful who will treat their inferiors like garbage, if they feel like it)

By the time I showed up, he [Gale]’d been lashed at least forty times. He passed out around thirty. - Jesus 😨 poor Gale!

“What about Darius?” Peeta asks.“ After about twenty lashes, he stepped in, saying that was enough. Only he didn’t do it smart and official, like Purnia did. He grabbed Thread’s arm and Thread hit him in the head with the butt of the whip. Nothing good waiting for him,” says Bristel. - It’s so messed up how it is not enough to have someone who’d stand up and do something about a horrible situation - they have to do it the right way, or else they’re toast; there really shouldn’t have to be a smart way of doing the right thing

Snow begins, thick and wet, making visibility even more difficult. - (President) Snow is coming down hard on them, making it hard to see what’s up ahead

Ever so gently, she [Mrs. Everdeen] begins to clean the mutilated flesh on Gale’s back. I feel sick to the stomach, useless, the remaining snow dripping from my glove into a puddle on the floor. Peeta puts me in a chair and holds a cloth filled with fresh snow to my cheek. - Although she’s quite squeamish, Katniss stays as Gale gets treated (the force that holds the loved ones of the hurt/dying, just like when Peeta was being treated after their Games); meanwhile, Peeta is taking care of Katniss - there is so much care + love to be found in this moment

My mother has to save the strongest [painkillers] for the worst pain, but what is the worst pain? To me, it’s always the pain that is present. If I were in charge, those painkillers would be gone in a day because I have so little ability to watch suffering. - Honestly, same; I can’t stomach seeing other people suffer without feeling overwhelmed and feeling like crying... I don’t know how professionals do it

“Just give him the medicine!” I scream at her. [...] “Take her out,” says my mother. Haymitch and Peeta literally carry me from the room while I shout obscenities at her. They pin me down on a bed in one of the extra bedrooms until I stop fighting. - Oof. Poor Katniss! But yeah, it was the best call to remove her from the situation, Mrs. E. had to focus on what she was doing... Also, Haymitch and Peeta are the ones to get Katniss out of there and stay with her - these three take care of each other!

After a while, my mother comes in and treats my face. Then she holds my hand, stroking my arm, while Haymitch fills her in on what happened with Gale. “So it’s starting again?” she says. “Like before?” - Katniss’s mom has become a much more active and soothing presence in this book, I like it... Also, what does “again” mean? Does this imply there has been an attempted uprising in D12 that needed to be squashed before?

Cray would have been disliked, anyway, because of the uniform he wore, but it was his habit of luring starving young women into his bed for money that made him an object of loathing in the district. In really bad times, the hungriest would gather at his door at nightfall, vying for the chance to earn a few coins to feed their families by selling their bodies. Had I been older when my father died, I might have been among them. - Horrifying and absolutely disgusting 🤢 Those poor women! How desperate they must have been! 

... when the doorbell rings, I shoot straight out of bed. [...] “They [the peacekeepers] can’t have him,” I say. “Might be you they’re after,” Haymitch reminds me. “Or you,” I say. “Not my house,” Haymitch points out. “But I’ll get the door.” “No, I’ll get it,” says my mother quietly. - Again, Mrs. Everdeen is taking the initiative! She was so watered down in the movies

[Madge] holds out a small, damp cardboard box to me. “Use these for your friend,” she says. I take off the lid of the box, revealing half a dozen vials of clear liquid. [...] “What is that stuff?” asks Peeta. “It’s from the Capitol. It’s called morphling,” my mother answers. “I didn’t even know Madge knew Gale,” says Peeta. “We used to sell her strawberries,” I say almost angrily. What am I angry about, though? Not that she has brought the medicine, surely. “She must have quite a taste for them,” says Haymitch. That’s what nettles me. It’s the implication that there’s something going on between Gale and Madge. And I don’t like it. “She’s my friend” is all I say. - I mean, Katniss could be mad because A) Gale had literally just told her he loved her a few hours ago and if there was something (reciprocated) going on between Gale and Madge, that would have been pretty shitty for both girls involved and also B) she is friends with both of them and it would be hurtful to learn that two of your closest friends had been seeing each other without telling you anything about it... also, she’s super upset over Gale getting so seriously hurt just after they’d had an argument, her feelings are all over the place

... I’m selfish. I’m a coward. I’m the kind of girl, who, when she might actually be of use, would run to stay alive and leave those who couldn’t follow to suffer and die. This is the girl Gale met in the woods today. No wonder I won the Games. No decent person ever does. You saved Peeta, I think weakly. But now I question even that. I knew good and well that my life back in District 12 would be unlivable if I let that boy die. - Yes, Katniss, you knew that your life back in D12 would have been unlivable if he died - but not because you feared that people would shun you; it was because you “couldn’t lose the boy with the bread” and because “if he dies, I’ll never go home, not really”... This is an excellent example of how distorted your memories can get when you are in a bad headspace at present

The berries. I realize the answer to who I am lies in that handful poisonous fruit. If I held them out to save Peeta because I knew I would be shunned if I came back without him, then I am despicable. If I held them out because I loved him, I am still self-centered, although forgivable. But if I held them out to defy the Capitol, I am someone of worth. - Katniss, you don’t have to be planning to overthrow a corrupt and cruel government to be someone of worth! You’re someone of worth just by being yourself! - The trouble is, I don’t know exactly what was going on inside me at that moment. - Frankly, very rarely are our motivations clearly defined by a single factor - or my professor would not have been able to teach an entire semester-long course on motivation psychology😉)

Chapter 9

Gale’s dead to the world, but his fingers are locked around mine. I smell fresh bread and turn my stiff neck to find Peeta looking down at me with such a sad expression. I get the sense that he’s been watching us awhile. “Go on up to bed, Katniss. I’ll look after him now,” he says. - Peeta! Must have been hard for him to see Katniss like this (and the underlying strength of Katniss and Gale’s relationship, when his relationship with Katniss is still not all that solidified), and yet he’s being such a good bean about it 😭

I give a strangled cry and wake with a start, sweating and shivering at once. Cradling my damaged cheek in my hand, I remind myself that it was not Clove but Thread who gave me this wound. I wish that Peeta were here to hold me, until I remember I’m not supposed to wish that anymore. I have chosen Gale and the rebellion, and a future with Peeta is the Capitol’s design, not mine. - Katniss, gurl... Maybe your instinctive desire to receive comfort from Peeta is trying to tell you something??!? Also, Katniss is forcing this strange dichotomous association of Gale = rebellion and Peeta = Capitol, when in just a bit, she’s clearly connecting Peeta to the rebellion as well (aside from the fact that Peeta was basically the first person to suggest to her that maybe a rebellion was necessary... just saying)

Fighting the Capitol assures their swift retaliation. I must accept that at any moment I can be arrested. [...] There might be torture. Mutliation. A bullet through the skull in the town square [...] I imagine these things and I’m terrified, but let’s face it: They’ve been lurking in the back of my brain, anyway. [...] I’m already a target. - Oh geez! Despite admitting that she’s terrified of what the Capitol is capable fo doing to her, Katniss is still pretty composed naming the possible horrors in store for her, which is just a heartbreaking reminder of how many terrible things she has already had to endure.🙁

Now comes the harder part. I have to face the fact that my family and friends might share this fate. Prim. I need only to think of Prim and all my resolve disintegrates. It’s my job to protect her. [...] I can’t let the Capitol hurt Prim. - 😭😭😭 Katniss has reached a point where she can put her own need for survival/physical intactness aside, but the thought of something awful happening to Prim stops her short (it’s so strange to think that, in a twisted way, it wasn’t the Capitol who’d ended up inflicting the final harm upon Prim...)

And then it hit’s me. They already have. They have killed her father in those wretched mines. They have sat by as she almost starved to death. [...] She has been hurt far worse than I had at the age of twelve. And even that pales in comparison with Rue’s life. [...] Prim... Rue... aren’t they the very reason I have to try to fight? Because what has been done to them is so wrong, so beyond justification, so evil that there is no choice? Because no one has the right to treat them as they have been treated? Yes. This is the thing to remember when fear threatens to swallow me up. What I am about to do, whatever any of us are forced to endure, it is for them. - All these things are very true and it’s also very fitting that the main motivation for Katniss would be to ensure a better future for the children of Panem (and to avenge the evils done to the people close to her heart... while Katniss of course can see the abstract bigger picture/reason for the rebellion, she always operates best when it comes to specific people/circumstances she has a deep, personal connection with)... But also: all these things apply to you, too, Katniss! Despite your tendency to feel responsible for everything and everyone, you’re still a child that had to grow up way too fast and had to endure way too much!

We need someone to direct us and reassure us this is possible. And I don’t think I’m that person. I may have been a catalyst for rebellion, but a leader should be someone with conviction, and I’m barely a convert myself. Someone with unflinching courage, and I’m still working hard at finding mine. Someone with clear and persuasive words, and I’m so easily tongue-tied. Words. I think of words and I think of Peeta. - Katniss’s idea of a great leader for the rebellion is Peeta - interesting, isn’t it (she could have considered Gale, but no)? She makes a good point, though: it helps when a leader has plenty of charisma, and our boy has that in spades; he’s got a good set of morals, is not above joining in on the action/risking his own neck when the need arises and is very genuine and purposeful with his words and actions, which is inspiring... I think Katniss is severely underselling how courageous she is, though

He could move a crowd to action, I bet, if he chose to. Would find the things to say. But I’m sure the idea has never crossed his mind. - Why would you assume that, Katniss? Peeta’s literally the one to suggest to you that trying to placate the district might not be the right thing to do... Peeta’s not someone who’d stir up trouble just for the sake of stirring up trouble, sure; he’s much more deliberate about doing things the ‘right’ way, but he’s not generally opposed to challenging authorities (he’s literally the one to openly gift some of your winnings to another district!)

She knows what she’s doing, my mother. I feel a pang of remorse about yesterday, the awful things I yelled at her as Peeta and Haymitch dragged me from the kitchen. “I’m sorry. About screaming at you yesterday.” - It’s so sweet how Katniss feels sorry for yelling at her mom and apologizes to her; their relationship really has improved so much in this book - “I’ve heard worse,” she says. “You’ve seen how people are, when someone they love is in pain.” Someone they love. [...] Of course, I love Gale. But what kind of love does she mean? What do I mean when I say I love Gale? I don’t know. I did kiss him last night, in a moment when my emotions were running so high. But i’m sure he doesn’t remember it. Does he? I hope not. - Katniss is struggling to figure out in what way she loves Gale... She definitely doesn’t want him to remember their kiss because she knows it wouldn’t be fair to give him the hope that she might be able to return his romantic feelings when she is still in the dark about her own

... and I can’t really think about kissing when I’ve got a rebellion to incite. I give my head a little shake to clear it. “Where’s Peeta?” I say. - Lol, goes on to immediately mention the guy she’s been kissing these past few weeks (see, with Peeta you could actually have both: kissing and rebellion, Katniss - he’s the perfect man, isn’t he? 😉😋)

“He went home when he heard you stirring. Didn’t want to leave his house unattended during the storm,” says my mother. - Yeah, I don’t think Peeta left because of his house; I’m pretty sure he needed some time to himself after seeing Katniss and Gale this morning - he is the type of person who needs to be alone to work through his feelings when he’s feeling upset - “Did he get back all right?” [...] “Why don’t you give him a call and check?” she says. I go into the study, a room I’ve pretty much avoided since my meeting with President Snow, and dial Peeta’s number. After a few rings he answers. “Hey. I just wanted to make sure you got home,” I say. “Katniss. I live three houses away from you,” he says. “I know, but with the weather and all,” I say. “Well, I’m fine. Thank you for checking.” There’s a long pause. “How’s Gale?” - Aww, Katniss is worried about Peeta and gives him a call, although she hates being in the study 😊 Also, her calling him must have been at least of some reassurance to Peeta that she genuinely cares about him, in some way (though, he’s still clearly busy processing her relationship with Gale, since he’s asking about him as if he hadn’t seen that dude just a couple of minutes prior)

“Have you seen Haymitch today?” “I checked in on him. Dead drunk. But I built up his fire and left him some bread,” he says. “I wanted to talk to - to both of you.” I don’t dare add more, here on my phone, which is surely tapped. -  Despite everything, Peeta still made sure to look after Haymitch! And I know, there is also the issue of their houses themselves potentially being bugged, but I couldn’t help imagining how they could easily avoid the whole phone-tapping thing simply by using a tin can telephone (they do live pretty close to each other, after all) 😂

“You don’t even have a phone,” I say. “Effie had that fixed,” he [Haymitch] says. “Do you know she asked me if I’d like to give you away? I told her the sooner the better.” “Haymitch.” I can hear the pleading creeping into my voice. “Katniss.” He mimics my tone. “It won’t work.” - Okay, but Haymitch mimicking Katniss’s tone reminds me so much of when Peeta mimicked her tone towards the end of their Games, when she was trying to persuade him to climb into a tree as a lookout while he was insistent she’d show him some plants to gather; these three, I swear! 😂 On a sad note, Haymitch is talking from experience here when he’s advising Katniss not to challenge the Capitol 🥺😢

Some streets away from the square, I see a blaze flare up. None of us has to say it. That can only be the Hob going up in smoke. I think of Greasy Sae, Ripper, all my friends who make their livings there. - Katniss considers the people from the Hob her friends - honestly, even if the Hawthornes, Everdeens, Peeta and Haymitch all had agreed to leave D12, I don’t think Katniss would have been able to go through with it - she cares too much about the people in D12 to have been able to leave them to their fate

“Well, I better go see how much rubbing alcohol the apothecary can spare.” He [Haymitch] trudges off across the square and I look at Peeta. “What’s he want that for?” Then I realize the answer. “We can’t let him drink it. He’ll kill himself, or at the very least go blind. I’ve got some white liquor put away at home.” “Me, too. Maybe that will hold him until Ripper finds a way to be back in business,” says Peeta. - Another instance of Katniss and Peeta being on the same wavelength, having taken precautions to help out Haymitch so he doesn’t have to go cold turkey again

We find Hazelle in her house, nursing a very sick Posy. I recognize the measles spots. “I couldn’t leave her,” she says. “I knew Gale’d be in the best possible hands.” - The second mention of someone having contracted the measles in D12 - Why the heck does the Capitol withhold measles vaccination from the people in the districts?! They’re inflicting unnecessary damage onto the very people they want to exploit... But I guess cruelty isn’t always about playing it smart and logical...

When we’re outside, I turn to Peeta. “You go on back. I want to walk by the Hob.” “I’ll go with you,” he says. “No. I’ve dragged you into enough trouble,” I tell him. “And avoiding a stroll by the Hob... that’s going to fix things for me?” He smiles and takes my hand. - They are a team, they stick together (and they are constantly holding hands, always physically linked to each other)😩💕 Also, Peeta pointing out the irrationality of Katniss’s train of thought to calm her down and stay with her reminds me of how he’s going to use logical reasoning to calm her down after the jabberjays in the Quarter Quell arena

We go back to the square. I buy some cakes from Peeta’s father while they exchange small talk about the weather. No one mentions the ugly tools of torture just yards from the front door. The last thing I notice as we leave the square is that I do not recognize even one of the Peacekeepers’ faces. - How weird is it that Peeta and his dad just talk about the weather?! Is this supposed to illustrate how in the Mellark family they just ignored the ugliness going on in their lives *cough cough* the abuse *cough cough* and just pretended that everything was fine, on a very superficial level? Also, it makes perfect sense that the Peacekeepers have been exchanged; the more time we spend with people, the more likely we are to like them - that won’t do if you want to have a ruthless authoritarian police force in the districts

As the days pass, things go from bad to worse. The mines stay shut for two weeks, and by that time half of District 12 is starving. The number of kids signing up for tesserae soars, but they often don’t receive their grain. Food shortages begin, and even those with money come away from stores empty-handed. [...] The eagerly awaited food promised for Parcel Day arrives spoiled and defiled by rodents. - This is just so awful and despicable 😞 Life in the districts was already horrible but now the government does not even honor the extortionary rules they themselves have set up! I can’t help but wonder if the lack of food could be traced back to rebellions in the food supplying districts and, to keep this from the inhabitants of the Capitol, the reduced amount of good food was (obviously) kept for the Capitolites, so that the bad food had to be sent to the districts, anyway... It just seems like such a breach of ‘honor’/etiquette on the Capitol’s part, I dunno... Or maybe Snow was just desperate to use any means necessary to stamp out any potential rebellions in the districts that he still had some control over...

Gale goes home with no more talk of rebellion between us. But I can’t help thinking that everything he sees will only strengthen his resolve to fight back. [...] Rory has signed up for tesserae, something Gale can’t even speak about - Poor, Gale! Poor Hawthornes :(

My fingers have all but decided to release the arrow when I see the object in the glove. It’s a small white circle of flat bread. More of a cracker, really. Gray and soggy around the edges. But an image is clearly stamped in the center of it. It’s my mockingjay. - It is so very telling that the true symbol of the rebellion combines something symbolic of Katniss (which also contains a nod to Rue) and something symbolic of Peeta (the bread/cracker!) The people in the districts have rightfully recognized the both of them as symbol of the rebellion; they have a truer vision of the matter than the more artifically/forcefully constructed symbol of rebellion that D13 /Coin will push - we will also see that when the people in D13 will view Peeta as a traitor, while the rebels Katniss will visit in D8 instead ask her about Peeta and assure her that they know he was speaking under duress

#thgagain #thg #katniss everdeen #hunger games #thg meta #peeta mellark #haymitch abernathy #gale hawthorne #my sketches and drawings #thg fanart #catching fire

[mybunnyparadenme]

chaossanthebae replied to your post “Graphic design is NOT my passion and all I have is...”Listen to me listen to me, B1, we have some...

Sorry it took so long! OTZ I hope you like it, I made sure that Kenny’s 100% just a civilian here. Long live Chaos/Kenny supremacy :D

--

B1 - Professor Chaos/Kenny

Kenny's mind felt so hazy as he slowly made his way into consciousness.

He blinked, not recognizing his surroundings, and felt his eyebrows furrow together when he tried to move and found that his arms were bound behind his back. Seeing as he wasn't naked, he figured this wasn't the fun version of being all tied up, but he couldn't think of any other situation that would leave him in this position. The last thing he remembered was leaving the store after picking up a gallon of milk for breakfast the next morning. There had been... a loud noise, maybe an explosion? Then a flash of light, and then here he was in this high-tech room, feeling like he'd been hit by a bus. But he wasn't alone, he quickly realized as he noticed movement from the corner of his eye. A handsome guy in a ridiculous outfit was walking towards him, his blue eyes seeming to spark with electricity with every step he took.

"Ah, sleeping beauty's finally awake." He said, a grin slowly rising on his face as he crossed his arms over his chest. Damn, he had nice biceps. "I didn't zap you too hard, did I?"

"Who the fuck are you?" Kenny asked, feeling his lips twist into a scowl. "And what did you do to my milk?"

"Oh, I put it in the fridge to keep it from spoiling." The guy said, his expression turning sheepish for a moment before his smug mask fell back into place. "And as for who I am, well... you'll know soon enough." 

Kenny was ready to tell this guy off for being overly vague (and for abducting him of course), but before he could get the first word out, the large screen on the wall in front of them lit up. An overweight guy about their age took up most of the screen, the top half of his face hidden behind a black raccoon mask. 

Great, now he had to deal with furries on top of everything.

"Chaos!" Raccoon Boy bellowed, his voice so gravelly Kenny wondered if he had a cold. "Show yourself!"

"Right on time." Chaos took a few steps into view and grinned up at him. "Why if it isn't The Coon! So nice of you to join us, did you need Call Girl's help to hack into my frequency, or were you able to follow the breadcrumbs this time?"

"Cut the banter Chaos, what have you done to the hostage?"

"He's fine." Chaos said, gesturing to Kenny behind him. "Though for how long, I can't really say. It's amazing how high you can turn up the voltage before the human body starts to lose control."

"You've sunk to a new low, haven't you?" The Coon growled, his eyes darkening as he stared at Chaos. "Electrocuting civilians is barbaric!"

"Oh, like clawing up my minions is any better?" Blue electricity crackled in the air around Chaos, making the hair on Kenny's arms stand on end. "You think you're so heroic, but really you're hardly any better than I am!"

"I am better than you!"

Things were starting to click in Kenny's head, and he tuned out the arguing to really think things through. Electricity, minions, Chaos... oh he remembered now! The guy in front of him was Professor Chaos, the new villain in town who was quickly building an empire of crime in South Park. Kenny felt a bit comforted by this realization, strange as that might be. He could handle being used as a pawn in some superhero political bullshit, no problem. There were worse things to be kidnapped over, like being used for organ harvesting or being part of a serial killer's sick fantasy. This was nothing.

He watched the two of them argue for a minute, frowning when he saw that neither one of them was really getting anywhere with this... negotiation? That was probably what this was supposed to be, but it was looking more and more like a petty squabble between childhood frenemies. He leaned forward in his seat as far as he could and whispered, "Hey, Chaos?"

Chaos jumped, looking like he'd forgotten that Kenny had been in the room at all. "Y-Yes, what is it?" 

"If you really want to intimidate him, give him a deadline." Kenny said, nodding at The Coon, who seemed to be in the middle of a long monologue about the difference between good and evil. He also didn't look like he was paying any attention to him, the person he was supposed to be saving. God, the guy must really like the sound of his own voice. "Tell him he's got a day, that should shut him up for a bit."

Chaos gave him the most bewildered look, but composed himself enough to call out, "Coon, I'm tired of this! You have twenty-four hours to meet my demands or the hostage... the hostage dies, you hear?"

The look on The Coon's face was more than worth the indirect death threat. "What the fuck? You don't kill people, Chaos."

"Now end the call," Kenny whispered. "Make him sweat a little."

"Things have changed, hero." Chaos let out an evil laugh and gathered sparks in the palm of his hand. He sent the lightning straight into the screen, causing the whole thing to start short-circuiting. The Coon's angry face lingered for a moment, just long enough for Chaos to grin and give a snappy, "Time's tickin'!" before the screen finally died and went black. 

The room was silent for a long moment, save for the crackle of lingering electricity in the air, but it was quickly broken by the sound of Chaos groaning loudly into his hands, all of his bravado disappearing. "Oh god, why'd I have to go and do that for? That's gonna cost a fortune to replace!"

"On the bright side, you looked really cool doing it." Kenny said, grinning when Chaos lifted his head up to look at him. "What? I'm a guy who can appreciate good theatrics."

"Yeah, I guessed that when you didn't freak out after I threatened your life." Chaos said, tilting his head like he was trying to see him in a different light. "Don't you... want to live?"

"Well obviously." Kenny said, shrugging his shoulders. "But this is clearly your first time taking a hostage, so we might as well do it right."

"How do you know this is my first time?" Chaos asked, his cheeks huffing out indignantly. 

Kenny lifted a leg in the air, a loose piece of rope dangling from his shoe. "This right here. You secured my hands, but left my feet loose enough for me to wriggle them free. You didn't notice because you were too busy with Raccoon Boy."

Chaos flushed and crossed his arms defensively over his chest. "W-Well it's not like you would've gotten very far! My secret base is rigged with booby traps, you would've been a goner if you left this room."

"Is that right?"

"Of course!" He said, his cheeks turning pink as he puffed his chest out proudly. "I might've let you trick me into ruining my monitor--"

"Hey you did that all on your own!"

He pursed his lips but powered on. "--but that doesn't mean you have any power here. I'm a dangerous man, you know. You're stuck here until I say you can leave."

Kenny considered this, tapping his foot against the floor as he took in the villain in front of him. Chaos had some wickedly strong powers, and even with his legs free he really wouldn't be going anywhere without the use of his hands. The only real option  he had was waiting for that tool, The Coon, to come rescue him, and that didn't sound appealing at all. He leaned back in his chair and let out a deep sigh. "Well since I'm not going anywhere, I should probably introduce myself to my host. Hi, I'm Kenny."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Bu-- um, I mean, I'm Professor Chaos!" He said, his cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink at his almost slip-up. He cleared his throat and tried to look serious as he continued. "And wherever I go, destruction's sure to follow. So you'd be smart to get on my good side, Kenny." 

A shock went through his spine at the sound of his name, and Kenny was sure it had nothing to do with the villain's electrical powers. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling, but he could already feel his lips curving up in anticipation. He'd always been a sucker for trouble, and it looked like Chaos was just the right combination of danger and adorable awkwardness that would make all of this worth his while.

No matter how this went down, he had a feeling this was only the first of many encounters between him and Professor Chaos.

#south park #sp bunny #Butters Stotch #kenny mccormick #bunny sp #my fics #south park fic #answered #god i hope the grammar's okay it's so hot today that i'm a little dizzy lol

[depressedacadamia]

I’m going to take care of you

Prompt + pairng: apollo + Hyacinthus

A/N: AHHH- i made the fatal mistake of being social and therefore i was so drained that I couldnt post on time! I put this on AO3 and then for a month forgot to put it on tumblr- woops!- but that said, I hope yall enjoy this new greek gay coupleeee <3 from mee!

Read on AO3          WritersMonth 2021         Mlist

“Hyacinthus, darling, what kind of sick joke is this?” Apollo’s alarmed voice rang out.

His lover, draped in the silk bed sheets, could only give a mere shrug of confusion. Apollo had awoken on said particular morning in a more foul mood than usual and up to now, Hyacinthus was utterly clueless as to what ungodly -which is quite ironic- matter had angered his sunshine this time.

“Apollo, do come back to bed,” Hyacinthus yawned. “ What is bothering you so much that you rise at such a miserable hour?”

“What is bothering me is that…”Apollo patted himself down, feeling his face and body. “ I am seemingly mortal.”

The sudden phrase had Hyacinthus shooting upwards so fast that had he moved any faster, the sheets would have completely flown off him- not that Apollo in any way would have minded.

“Sunshine, whatever do you mean? You are a god.”

“Well I’m clearly not anymore!” Apollo yelled, his hands weaving and grabbing at his hair. What was his father up to and more importantly- What did Zeus want this time?

It wasn't uncommon, which Apollo had to admit was a sad thing to have to accept, for his father- the whores of all whores (and don't let Zeus know that Apollo called him that)- to sometimes turn him into a mortal.

In Apollo’s honest opinion, it was often for trivial and unnecessary things that he cared not for- however, thanks to his father, he wouldn't really be given a choice on whether he cared about the subject or not. It was already terrible enough when he was turned into a mortal as a punishment for mocking Aphrodite’s son -Eros, but to add insult to injury, his father had him running around a random mortal whom he had somehow fallen truly, madly and deeply in love with until she had someone turn her into a tree.

Apollo refused to trust Eros ever again. He refused to ever let Eros or Aphrodite near any of his lovers- but it seemed no matter how hard Apollo tried to avoid the winged bastard, Eros always appeared exactly when he didn't need him- so was he really surprised to hear the manic laughing of a winged man? No, no he wasn’t.

It was only a miracle that Eros had just flown over and not appeared in front of him- that would have been catastrophic.

“Apollo?”

His head snapped towards his concerned lover. “Are you okay?”

He paused- what kind of question was that? He was no longer glowy- what was he to do? And slowly his thoughts began descending into chaos- at first it was the same things he thought every time this happened ( which would be a lot more than one would expect- Zeus was petty like that). However, as his thoughts began to spiral, he began to worry whether Hyacinthus would leave him once he realised that Apollo was truly no longer his godly self.

Afterall, why would Hyacinthus - a healthy, fit and handsome man- want to be stuck with a boring mortal who must go on a quest due to his petty father?

He slumped onto the bed, groaning as he realised he could feel the pain from his face slamming directly onto a pillow.

“Sunshine?”

“What?” Apollo groaned miserably. He felt Hyacinthus place his warm hand on his back, rubbing it in smooth circles, a gesture Apollo knew was what Hyacinthus would do when he tried to comfort him; apparently, according to his lover, Apollo was allegedly very ‘high maintenance’.

“You said that you were no longer a god before suddenly collapsing onto the bed,” he explained. “ Are you okay?”

“Why do you care?”

“Am I not allowed to care for my boyfriend?”

“Not for long. Now that I’m mortal, again, I’ll probably die super soon of something pathetic- just like me.”

Hyacinthus felt relatively guilty. He didn’t mean to deceive Apollo- not that he actually was. It was simply the fact that he realised that he for some reason or another felt extremely different than how he normally would. His body felt stronger, his skin fresher, his eyesight perfect and so on.

At first he thought it was simply the effect of being truly, madly and deeply in love but when Apollo had awoken and confided in him that he too was now mortal, Hyacinthus put it together.

Apollo was mortal and now he was a god.

“I need to figure out the key to this thing. Zeus does this all the time, it really isn't fair,” Apollo grumbled sadly into the pillow and when he lifted his head Hyacinthus could see tears forming and rolling down his lover’s face.

“Mortals cry, Hyacinthus! They cry! Why do your faces produce these wet salty forms of water when you’re experiencing anything other than happiness or pleasure, I truly do not know and in all honesty, I think it to be completely stupid on an entirely new level!”

“So you’re asking me why do humans cry when we’re sad?” Hyacinthus slowly reiterated.

“Yes!” Apollo let out a sob.

“I don’t know but there must be a reason as to why you’re sad.”

“Because!”

Hyacinthus paused. “ Because…? Because of what, Sunshine?”

“ Because- I’m terribly pathetic now! Don't you see, I’m just like everyone else. There's no reason for you to even stay not a second longer jammed up in this luxurious bed with an absolute maggot such as myself! And you have no reason to call me sunshine anymore because I’m a pathetic weak mortal and not the glorious Sun god. I’ll probably starve to death or get food poisoning. Or maybe, i’ll be kidnapped and murdered.” Apollo paused his teary rant to take a deep inhale. “At this point, that option would be ideal.”

And as he refused to meet the eye of his concerned lover, Apollo felt the stupid, stupid tears continue their route down his cheeks, pooling at the bottom of his chin before momentiarily staying still and then falling direclty onto the silk pillow with a soft ‘plop!’

He felt firm hands confidently but gently cradle his face, squishing his cheeks slightly and forcing his face upwards as if to look him in the eye.

“I’m going to take care of you,” Hyacinthus smiled.

“It’s all rotten work anyway,” Apollo sniffled.

“Not to me.” Hyacinthus grabbed a tissue and began dabbing away at Apollo’s tears before they dried up his skin. “Not if it’s you.”

And with the way Hyacinthus took care of him, Apollo considered the potential option that maybe being a mortal wouldn't be as bad as he thought it would be.

#apollo #Hyacinthus #apollo x hyacinthus #apollo fanfic #Hyacinthus fanfic #apollo x Hyacinthus fanfic #Hyacinthus x apollo #Hyacinthus x apollo fanfic #Greek mythology #Greek mythology fanfic #angst #fluff #gay #gay fluff #apollo fluff #Hyacinthus fluff #there aren’t many tags I can put here okay

[thefanficmonster]

I may or may not have just sent the 3 word challenge in my real account instead of anon... I'm sorry. Please don't answer there. :)

When you post, post answering here please.

Again, much love,

📚🌻

Don't worry dear! Your identity shall remain a secret 🥰 Here's yet another fic with my Resident Evil OC: Gwen Winters (she’s an adult guys, don’t worry. However this is still an Older Man/Younger Woman relationship)

The words dear  📚🌻 Anon gave me in their previous ask were: Unruly, endurable and system. Please enjoy!

What happens in the gym....

Pairing: Chris Redfield x Female OC

Warnings: Swearing, Spoiler Free 😊

Genre: Angsty Romance

“Sure, throw me in the fire like you always do, Leon!“ Chris snaps, clenching his fists tightly as he glares at his best friend while the two stand in the dimly lit gym.

“Chris, you’re a BSAA captain, for the love of God! You should know better than to complain about something as little as this!“ Leon, while significantly calmer tone and demeanor-wise, is glaring daggers of his own.

“Why me, damn it?! And why her?!“ Chris is not done with his attempts to get out of the situation Leon’s trying to land him in and his partner’s honestly done with it.

“And why not?! You see the same potential I see, why would it be so hard to train her? She’s a quick learner, she’s disciplined when she wants to be and she’s already skilled to a certain degree. You’ve made soldiers out of total wimps before, why is she such a hassle to you?!“

“Because she’s disciplined when she wants to be and I guarantee she won’t want to when she’s around me. She’s unruly, selfish, arrogant and a Chris-phobe. I’m telling you, she hates me!“

It’s about time Leon’s had enough of this conversation. To be honest, he was done with it as soon as it started but he stayed, thinking he’d be able to change Chris’ mind but seeing as how this is a hopeless case, he’s just been wasting his time. “Does she? Or are you projecting your hate for her onto her?” Slinging his duffel bag containing his training gear over his shoulder, Leon finally makes that realization that these are ten minutes of his life he’ll never get back and storms out of the gym without another word.

Chris doesn’t attempt to stop him, in fact, he’s relieved he left. He sighs, silently hating himself for all the shit he said and how he meant none of it. It was all hard bullshit and he doesn’t know whether to be thankful or disappointed that Leon didn’t realize. Either way, he’s been cleared of possible suspicion, even if training the newest BSAA rookie still remains as his task.

Gwen Winters, she’s such a fucking handful. One cannot tell if it’s because she’s angry with the world, angry with herself or just straight up picked up on the habits of the family that took her in when she was rescued from Raccoon City where she was held as an experiment hamster. A chemistry project basically. Ethan and Mia were recovering from the events back in Louisiana at the time, still probably are, that is not some shit you get over, so they thought having another person in the house would help them. And help Gwen did. See, Gwen isn’t a handful with everyone. In fact, she’s a real sweetheart and Chris knows it too, despite his bogus claims. He knows she’s got a heart and soul of gold and is built with the will of a BSAA soldier already. All she needs is a bit better fighting skills and she’s good to go. 

He sees how she acts with everyone around him. She’s been quick to make friends with Jill and his sister Claire and she’s even got Leon’s liking and trust which is hella hard to get, especially after all the shit with Ada. She’s overall a super sweet and lovely girl, even with him from time to time. He’s seen her welcoming, friendly smiles whenever he stops by the Winters’ home. He’s heard her laugh at the jokes he rarely cracks.

Then why does she act like she hates him so often? And why does he claim he hates her?

Chris is snapped back to reality by the sound of rough impact. It’s a very distinct noise, one he places immediately: the sound of fists hitting a punching bag. It’s the middle of the night, almost midnight actually, and knowing how lazy the soldiers on his team are, he can only assume it’s either his sister or Jill, given that Leon just left. However, they’ve had people sneak in to train for free before, so it’d be for the best if he went to check who was releasing some pent up energy on the poor punching bag. Judging by the intensity of the punches being thrown, sounds like the person might be angry as well.

And they have every right to be. Because they are Gwen.

Chris’ face goes a bit red at the sight of the infuriated rookie giving the punching bag her all, punishing it the way she’d want to do to her superior she just heard call her all the names she hates being referred by.

“Winters I-“

“Unruly?“ Punch “Selfish?” Punch “Arrogant?” Punch

She stills herself, sighing and wiping the droplets of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, “You say all that and expect me not to be a Chris-phobe?” She lets out a bitter laugh, rolling her shoulders before continuing her wrath over the piece of equipment she’s threatening to destroy. She hasn’t spared him a single look yet, something he’s rather grateful for because the last thing he wants to see is whatever her gaze is hiding right now. “I’ll talk to Leon.” She says, her voice leveled and breathy, far from the pissed off tone she was just using. This calmness is a lot scarier though. “I’ll tell him I don’t want you to be my trainer. To be perfectly clear, I never wanted you to train me in the first place. I’m just not the type to complain, you know. I’m not picky. Beggers can’t be choosers. I take what I can get. And you were all I was offered, but...” she trails off, delivering a particularly hard punch, “It’s not gonna work. I may not be picky, but I know when to draw the line. I know when I deserve better.”

“Kid, you really have no idea what the case really is here.“ He attempts desperately, taunted by the thought of acting on his instincts and approaching her even if that means being the recipient of one of those hard punches.

“You know, I’m strong. I’m skilled. I can hold my own in a fight quite nicely. I’m endurable. I’m not afraid to work my ass off and sweat and pant like a dog after workouts. There’s not a line I wouldn’t cross, but you still choose to make me feel lesser than any soldier you’ve ever come across, that’s really lovely of you, Captain Redfield.“

“Winters, please...“

“It’s ok, I won’t tell Ethan and Mia. I’m sure they’ll send you to hell over it. I’m not petty like that.“

He’s had enough. He’s had enough of hearing that hurt tone in her voice. He’s done hearing these words she’s so certain are true but aren’t. He’s done lying to her and to himself. Before he can even think twice about it, he grabs her by the arms gently but firmly, turning her to face him despite her hostile attempts to free herself from his hold like a wild animal caught in a trap. He’s surprised when she relaxes, probably seeing that as a quicker way out of the situation rather than struggling though if she tried to free herself any longer he would’ve probably let her go.

“Fucking hell, Gwen, listen to me.“ He looks her dead in the eyes, catching onto the spark of shock created by his use of her first name. But he also sees something else, something that looks dangerously a lot like tears. He knows she won’t cry, especially not in front of him, but knowing that he’s the cause behind the welling of those crystal droplets in her always shiny, always smiling eyes breaks him. When she doesn’t look away nor protest, he continues, “I can’t be your captain. I can’t be your trainer. I can’t be any of that. I’m a strictly professional man, and it’d be highly unprofessional of me to take you in as my soldier.”

“But why?“ She’s fully aware she sounds like a whiny kid - exactly how she thinks he envisions her sometimes - but she couldn’t care less. She wants and needs answers. She knows she won’t be able to fall asleep or keep coming back to the training center if she doesn’t get them.

It’s blatantly clear this is far from easy for Chris. His first instinct is to look away, let go of her, run away like he always does - not that she’d let him do such a thing but still. He’s finds the words impossible to spit out yet he oh so desperately feels the need to get them out of his system. And so, he gathers all the strength within him and finally forces himself to say it.

“Because a captain isn’t supposed to look at a soldier the way I look at you.“

Sure, it sounds cryptic as heck but he has no doubt she’ll catch on. Gwen is a smart and sharp girl, among many other things. She confirms this when barely three seconds after he’s said it, he notices her eyes widening

“Sir, I-“

“Don’t.“ He says simply, a small, regretful smile playing across his lips as his hand slides down her arm to take hold of hers, “I just admitted my dirtiest secret to you and you are still gonna remind me how unprofessional I am by using my title, Kid?“

She purses her lips, the shock momentarily replaced by her signature mild glare, “Well, you just admitted your biggest secret to me and yet you still choose to call me ‘Kid’, huh?”

He chuckles, letting his other hand repeat the movements of the first, “Sorry, force of habit.” His thumbs brush against her knuckles briefly as his head falls, his gaze fixating on where their bodies are connected, “You know, I didn’t tell you this to get myself any pity or anything. I just wanted you to understand and....wanted to get it off my chest. Ethan will kill me if he finds out, won’t he?” He suddenly asks, regaining the courage to look up at her once again.

She giggles, “Who says he’s gonna find out?”

Chris bites the inside of his cheek, shaking his head, “You’re right, there’s nothing really to find out abo-”

Gwen has never been a chatter nor can she tolerate when people beat around the bush so she’s quick to cut them off sometimes, no matter how rude that may seem or sound. However, just to clarify, her chosen method of cutting a person off isn’t always kissing them. Just saying - this is a special situation requiring special methods.

Taken aback by the sudden feeling of her lips on his, Chris’ eyes close automatically but not even a second later he responds to the kiss properly: wrapping his arms around Gwen’s waist as her hands travel up to cup his face. The kiss is short - too short if either of them is to be asked - but it’s worth all the words they didn’t say despite wanting to.

When they pull away, Gwen gives him a mischievous smile, “Now he could find out about that and then shit would go south. That’d suck, wouldn’t it Chris?“

He’s only ever heard her say his name twice, once in passing conversation with Claire and once earlier when she paraphrased his term ‘Chris-phobe’, both time spoken with some dose of dislike he now realizes was a cover-up all along. Turns out the two are a lot more alike than they initially thought. Regardless, hearing her say his name with fondness instead of bitterness makes his heart flutter, his body yearn to have her closer, his lips wanting to be in contact with hers again. But he’s a patient and self-controlled man, he’s nothing if not willpower sculpted in a human body, so he keeps his distance, waiting for her to pick the moves, waiting for her to make the decisions just like she’s his captain.

“Big time.“ He manages to say, voice coarse all of a sudden, barely able to leave his throat. “So it stays here, right?”

She giggles again, bringing her lips within an inch or two away from his, taunting him, threatening to break his self-control, “What happens in the gym stays in the gym, Redfield.”

Golden rules of discretion, ones he mustn’t break ever. Especially not when his captain - Captain Gwen Winters - holds so much power over him.

#resident evil #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #resident evil 7 #re8 #re village #re8 village #resident evil chris #resident evil chris redfield #re chris redfield #re chris #chris #chris redfield #chris redfield fanfic #chris redfield x reader #chris redfield x oc #chris redfield imagine #karl heisenberg #lady dimitrescu #leon kennedy #ethan winters #mia winters #rose winters #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #fandom #fluff #romance #request

[witch-hazels-musings]

is this all i have?

^ hey all, a little different fic I have for you today.

If you decide to read it, it’ll give you some insight into why I haven’t been posting a lot ... it says more than I probably would normally share about my struggles but @genshin-karebear encouraged me to be honest and, so, here I am. (thank you, friend)

Warnings -> negative self-talk, comfort, one curse word 

I sat at my desk, head in my hands and tears on the verge of spilling over the edges of my eyes. For days I’d been struggling, frantically, painfully trying to get back into the swing of things with nothing to show for it other than tear stained clothes and empty pieces of paper.

Where did it all go? Where was the spark that used to ignite in my heart when I sat down to write the words which once came so easy? Am I spent, have I used up all that skill in a matter of months … what’s wrong with me.

A single tear cascaded down my cheek as I stared at the massive nothingness that lay before me. The taunting paper which looked back at like a score card of failures after failures, as if to remind me that I will never be a person worthy of it’s time. I rubbed my eyes, pushing my glasses over my brow and feeling the hot liquid which rested in them, this would be the tenth time I’ve done this today.

“I’m just spent and I don’t know what I’m going to do anymore.” My lip quivered, my cheeks became wet, my eyes blurry. “I’m a failure.” I whispered to myself shaking my head and holding onto the last ounce of energy I could muster - it didn’t matter that the sun was warm and shined through my window, there was nothing strong enough to push through my veil of despair.

I looked out the window and saw the world move on around me; it never waits, while it pushes on I’m left behind. The trees continue to spread out their leaves in an attempt to soak up the necessary nutrients they need to survive, seeds float on the wind looking for a place to rest, bugs move from place to place at random, the cat lounges on the chair lost in its dreams as its fur is warmed by the sun I cannot seem to feel. I’m jealous of that cat.

I contemplate getting up and doing something different, but there is a voice inside of me that tells me to push through, to keep going and write something - put anything down on this piece of paper. Fuck you, paper … you are nothing to me and yet you have total control over my pen. I’m angry and frustrated at an inanimate object when I should really be mad at myself. It’s my fault I cannot get anything out --- I’m broken, that must be the only answer.

The tears have all fallen, water droplets speckle the parchment and my eyes look onward without any ounce of life left. I feel empty and hollow, I have no more energy for it all and so I lay down the pen, drop my head to the table and close my eyes.

I don’t know how long I sit like this, time has been moving so slowly for me as of late that this feels like nothing new. I don’t even hear the sound of the door opening, or footsteps headed my way. In fact, I barely register there is another presence in the room until I feel a hand on my shoulder.

“Hazel?” I stir, but only enough to turn my head onto its side and glance at the person who called me by name, a name I didn’t feel I had the right to claim. I looked up and felt my stomach drop, of course it would be him … the one person who I continued to fail over and over again. “Are you okay?”

I bit the inside of my lip, desperate to keep my emotions in check. I hated looking weak, and complaining about my frustrations only made me feel worse. These worries and inadequacies are my own issues to deal with, there was no need to drag others down into my sorrow, so I changed the subject.

“You’re back earlier than I thought you’d be.” I leaned up from the desk and turned myself to face him. Instinctually, I placed my hand on the blank paper, an attempt to hide my shame.

“Yes, there wasn’t much for me to do, it seemed everyone had it under control and I didn’t see a need to stick around.” He placed a few items down on the table in the study. It was some of the only sounds which broke the monotony of my day. “… did I disturb your work?”

“No, I only just started.” I lied, grinning to add another layer to my coverup.

“Oh, normally you get started much earlier than this …” His observation was accurate, even if it stung a little. He was right after all, I’d been sitting at this desk since we parted ways earlier in the morning … I felt chained to it, obligated to do something worthwhile at this god forsaken wooden nightmare.

“Normally, yes. I just, uh, had some things to get done before this …”

“Well I’m sure you are eager to get started, I’ll leave you to it.” He looked down at me kindly, and I yearned to have more than just his words and kind eyes at the moment, but I knew it wouldn’t be possible to ask that of him.

“Sounds good, I’ve got a lot of ideas and think I can get some good stuff done today.” Another lie.

“I believe you will.” He looked at me and my brain screamed. It battled between the side of reaching for him and letting him go. As busy as he was, he didn’t need to be bothered by my struggles. So, in an effort to keep them under control I pushed my knuckles to the small space between my chin and lips, the nail of my index finger digging into the corner of my mouth for extra sensory support. I smiled weakly at him and watched as he made his way through the threshold, disappearing beyond my line of sight. When the door closed I stood from my chair and walked to the window, my hand extended to capture the rays of the sun which normally brought me comfort, but today only illuminated my skin.

The emotions bubbled up in my chest and, like a sad child who didn’t get what they wanted, I removed my glasses, dropped my head into my hand and cried. Soft, quiet sobs spilled from my mouth while my eyes remained shielded by the darkness of my hand. Something caught my attention and as soon as I allowed my vision to adjust to the source, dark cloth and a flash of red envelope me.

“What …?”

“I knew something wasn’t right.” His voice was so soothing, his arms tight around my body, his chest inviting and the way his hand spread across my back ... it all meshed perfectly together. “For days, you’ve been acting strange … I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner.”

“What .. what are you talking about ..?” my voice was strained, telling of my emotions, and still I tried to push through. “I’m fine, I-I just got something in my eye.”

“You know you can be honest with me.”

“I know …”

“So, tell me what’s on your mind.”

“This isn’t something to worry you over.”

“Isn’t it?” He pulled back so he could look at me and I was glad my glasses were still off. I couldn’t bear to see him clearly right now. “Something is clearly weighing on you, how could I not offer my support?

“It’s stupid, and I just need to get over it.”

“If it makes you feel this way, then whatever problem you have isn’t stupid.” He pressed, and his words, combined with the closeness of him, was starting to break my resolve. I didn’t want to put anything else on his shoulders … I didn’t want to appear weak … I didn’t want to be a failure.

“I’m … struggling.” He didn’t let me go or say anything, which made me fill the silence with my own pitiful words. 

“I’ve been trying for days to get something, anything out and every time I do the words don’t flow like they did. I’m worried … did I write all that I’m ever going to write. What if I can’t do it anymore … what if this is all I have …” The tears began to slip down my cheeks, some found a home in the bend of my lips and filled my mouth with the taste of salt. I shook my head and bit my tongue, this is stupid, I’m acting like a child. I tried to push away from him but he only tightened his grip. “God, there are so many more important things to be upset about, and here I am whining about something so petty.”

“When was the last time you took a break? Perhaps, that may help?”

“I’ve done that … I’ve taken such a long break -- I-I don’t want to take a break anymore. Why is this so hard.” I felt the pressure of my brows as they moved closer to one another, the bending of my nose as I scrunch my face out of frustration. “I’m wasting time and people are waiting on me … how long can I ask them to wait … how long do I deserve their patience …”

“Has anyone pushed you to work faster than you can?”

I parted my lips and ran my tongue over the back of my teeth, “No … but I can’t expect them to wait forever. There’s gotta be something wrong with me, right? That’s the only explanation I have at this point. I’m not good at it anymore … I’m worried and stressed and ... just ... so sad.”

His hands slipped around my arms, one resting against my shoulder and the other cupping my face. “I know this feels like an impassable obstacle, but you haven’t lost anything … you just need to give it time.”

“Haven’t I done that?”

“You told me you’ve been in here trying to force yourself everyday, have you really taken time to rest?” I shrugged my shoulders and shifted my eyes away from him.

“You don’t take breaks either …” I mumbled, my words were an effort to get even and show him how the suggestion was nothing but a silly statement that had no meaning.

“Maybe, I should.” I didn’t want to look at him, but I could tell his tone had grown more thoughtful. He let his hands fall to my wrist, the feeling of his glove against my skin was somehow comforting. “Come with me.” He gripped tightly and led me through the door of the study faster than I could protest. We walked down the stairs, confused maids and staff staring at us as we blew by them before leaving through the heavy doors of the winery and onto the dirt path which held endless possibilities of destinations. I protested, but there was no escaping his grip and, soon, all my effort was on keeping up with his pace.

When I thought I couldn’t take another step we stopped, he released my hand and with him no longer keeping me upright, I fell into the grass below me, my arms sprawled outward. I breathed in deeply and relished the feeling of the wind against my face.

“It’s been a long time since I moved that quickly.”

“How do you feel?”

“Let me get back to you on that… ” I laughed and rested my hand against my chest, the beating of my heart pounding there as I tried to breathe with hot lungs.

I looked up at the sky, the vastness of it stealing my vision and removing anything else. My skin was tickled by the blades of grass that brushed against it, and I watched as a small bee flew over my face his swaying movement mesmerizing. When was the last time I was outside like this… it felt like such a long time ago.

I stretched my hand toward the sky above me, the blue color peeking through my spread fingers, my palm cutting off the fuzzy clouds that moved lazily along. His face came into view and I realized I had yet to put my glasses back on.

He bent down to meet me, his back falling into the grass at my side, hair following the pull of gravity and spreading out in the grassy hill. 

“I can’t believe you are laying in the grass.” I chuckled and dropped my hand back onto my chest, turning my head to look at him.

“I’m known to have a few surprises up my sleeve.” He responded, turning his head to look at me, the light from above gracing his face and somehow only making him even more beautiful than he already was. It was so blinding that I had to look away.

“Hah, well, color me impressed.” For the first time in days, I feel a small reprieve from the darkness which had seeped into my skin. Something internal began to tingle, starting from my fingertips and slowly up my arms and as I took in a deep breath the smell of sweet flowers filled my nose. “Thank you, Diluc.”

He reached for the hand which was moving back and forth above the grass at my side, his strong, large grip providing protection and comfort, and for the first time in days, the feeling of warmth.

“Promise to tell me next time you are struggling; don’t hide away alone.”

“I’ll do my best.”

---

I feel much like Kiki did in Kiki’s Delivery Service ... how can I fly again when I feel so ... bleh 

I’ll keep trying, all <3 

#genshin impact #genshin impact musings #genshin impact fiction #self insert #genshin self insert #diluc #genshin diluc #diluc ragnvindr #genshin impact diluc #hazelsmusings

[iamanartichoke]

Natalie Holt implying that Loki slept with Sif before cutting off her hair honestly makes my blood boil. The first Thor movie showed us a sympathetic character that was an outcast in Asgard, and a scapegoat in his family. Everything now just seems like Marvel trying to take all of that away. So many people are saying, "Well, now I know why Sif doesn't like him, lol!" And that is exactly as intended. We are supposed to see Loki as an ass and everyone else as a saint for putting up with him. :(

I'm just really baffled at how it's either a) supposed to make sense, or b) explain anything about their dynamic?

Like, okay, let's assume that they do hate each other bc they slept together. Why would that be? Even if you catch feelings and get rejected, that's not really justification to hate someone. Ideally you'd just go your own separate ways but since Loki and Sif shared a social circle, that probably wasn't an option, in which case the next best thing is to just be civil while you move on/get over the feelings. No hatred necessary, and certainly not for centuries.

I don't believe that either of them is stubborn enough to harbor a grudge over being rejected. Sif bc I wouldn't believe that she caught feelings for Loki anyway, and Loki bc while he would certainly be hurt, and his pride would be wounded, I just don't see him holding onto that for longer than it would take for him to move past it.

And where is the hair-cutting supposed to come in? Are we implying here that Loki is so childish and petty that he cut off Sif's hair in retaliation for her not returning his feelings? (Seeing it written down like that, I am guessing this is exactly the implication, bc of course it is, smh.) Was he 12 when they fucked, or ??

So here's the thing, though. You pointed out that the first Thor movie showed us a sympathetic character who was an outcast and a scapegoat but no, actually, it didn't. Thor 1 showed us a jealous, vindictive loner turned villain. That's the problem - the MCU isn't taking anything away as much as they're trying to re-establish the characterization they intended for him to have all along.

Thor 1 left things out that would provide more context to Loki's motivations. Thor 1 actively deleted scenes that showed Loki as sympathetic. Thor 1 set up a "good brother vs evil brother" black-and-white dichotomy between Thor and Loki, in which the narrative and the supporting characters all behaved as though Loki was innately the evil brother and there wasn't even a question about that. Thor 1 was Thor's movie, and while I obviously have no problem with that, it being Thor's movie means that to a lot of the audience, Loki was never going to be perceived as sympathetic. In order to make Thor the hero of his story, Loki has to be the villain and most people just accept that at face-value.

Is Loki sympathetic? Yes. Was he an outcast in his society and a scapegoat in his family? Yes. Was he evil at heart? No. Did he do bad things? Yes. Did he intend for them to turn out as terribly as they did? No. Etc.

These are all things that a lot of us know because we've taken the time to know them. One needs to be interested/invested enough in Loki to make the effort of interpreting his motivations and his characterization but, that said, having a vested enough interest in Loki to be an active fan doesn't necessarily mean interpreting him sympathetically. There's this weird divide and things that seem obvious in hindsight, such as Loki's sympathy as a character or the nuances of what he was really trying to achieve in Thor 1, are things that a lot of the audience + his fandom either don't pick up on or don't care to see.

There's a reason 2011-13 Loki isn't as popular as Ragnarok Loki. There's a reason there are so. many. posts. in this fandom that start off with "I love Loki, but -" and then proceed to drag him. There's a reason why a lot of his fans are like "lol I mean he did murder all those people though?" or why the "you just like Loki/apologize for Loki bc you want to fuck Tom" argument is so prevalent. There's a reason why headcanons like "Loki just fucked his way into the GM's inner circle" are treated as canon, or why nobody questions whether or not it actually made sense for Loki to randomly betray Thor right before the obedience disk scene.

The reason is that Thor 1 didn't show us who Loki really was, and because of his portrayal in that movie and in Avengers (subtext and word-of-god confirmation is clearly insufficient for the wider audience to realize that Loki wasn't acting of his own accord - no, he's just evil), there are very many fans who are just never going to see him as anything besides villainous at worst or "a fun but greasy little shit" at best, who causes trouble and does shitty things for the lulz.

"Loki cut Sif's hair for no other reason than to be a dick after they fucked" falls perfectly in line with that characterization, and the result is that you get tons of fans who are like "LOL that's SO Loki!" or "No wonder Sif hates him!" etc. And if, in 2021, ten years after Loki was introduced into the MCU, people are still coming away from his narrative arc + his own series believing that he is, or ever was, just a rotten little shit who caused trouble for the lulz? Then that is clearly the Loki that they see, that they stan, and that means whatever he means to them, and regardless of how our portion of the fandom may object and cry foul, there's honestly just nothing we can do about it.

So, I mean, there we are. People can feel however they want about Loki. It is what it is. And I think I'm just tired of getting upset about it. Re Loki/Sif, I will share my opinion that it's a trash headcanon and laugh at it, but I'm tired of allowing myself to get genuinely upset about how other people perceive this character, especially when there's nothing I can do about it and the only person who ends up suffering is me when my mental health spirals downward (bc I care way too much about fiction and I have no problem admitting it).

I didn't intend for this to be so long, and obviously this is not any kind of rebuttal against you or your ask personally, anon. It just gave me an opportunity to put into words what I've been feeling for quite awhile. It is what it is.

I also feel it's worth mentioning, again, that I think Natalie's soundtrack is absolute fire and I have nothing but respect for her as the composer in this series, but I do not think that earns her any merit in how she perceives these characters. Loki/Sif is her headcanon, and she also said that Loki looks at Sylvie the way he looks at his mother, which is like, and how do you think he's looking at his mother, Nat? Cause uh. I don't think they are the same. I know most people won't agree, but I feel like her words need to be taken with a grain of salt and not accepted as canon based on nothing more than her position of being someone who worked on the show.

I should put this behind a cut, but meh. Also, I know a lot of people reblogged/added onto my Loki/Sif post from last night and I was going to engage but I just don't have time, so please accept this as my general response + stance on the entire clusterfuck.

#asks #charlotte replies #a nonny mouse #this isn't really negativity i don't think #just my feels #loki pokey artichokey #if anyone feels i should add any tags they've blacklisted just let me know and i'll add them

[averykedavra]

A Conversation I Overheard (1/5)

It’s been a while since one of these, hasn’t it? A little one-shot turned out not-so-little and I figured it was about time to give multi-chapter fics another shot. This self-indulgent little beast is courtesy of a prompt by the lovely @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors, which you can find here! The title and plot are entirely their creation. @sleepless-in-starbucks encouraged me to write this awhile back (read: months and months ago, because I’m slow at writing) and here I am! Finally! Better late than never. So...commence fic!

Update schedule is to be determined. This fic is on Ao3 here!

Pairings: romantic LAMP

Warnings: insecurity and self-hatred, anxiety, depressive symptoms, spiraling, a crap-ton of miscommunication, and mentions of kissing

Summary: When Roman eavesdrops on a family meeting post-wedding, he hears the last thing he expected--the sides confessing their feelings for each other. Which is lovely for them, but it means Roman is stuck as the fourth wheel. Helpful, quiet, and doing his best to keep them from remembering that they're still mad at Roman.

And doing his best to keep himself from dwelling on the heartbreak. Because of course they don’t love him. Why would they?

(or: the four times the sides tried to tell Roman they loved him, and the one time he finally believed them.)

Chapter One: Denial

First. Next. Masterlist.

Roman knew it was petty. He knew it was a petty, selfish, unchivalrous thing to do. He should treat his fellow Sides with more respect. He should own up to his mistakes. He should make like the fabulous prince he was and lead the discussion, fix everything, listen to the people who knew him best.

Roman knew it was stupid, but he couldn’t force himself to answer the door.

“Kiddo?” Patton asked for the third time. “Did you hear me? I said we’re all going to have a--family meeting. To talk about what happened. I think it would be a good idea for us all to...get things off our chest.”

Roman clutched at his sash and stared at the ceiling. If he called out, Patton wouldn’t hear him. He’d have to walk over to the door and open it. That was one excuse to stay still. That was one excuse to keep quiet.

“I know you’re upset,” Patton said. “It’s okay. We want to hear you out. Maybe we can help you work through some things.”

Roman would cry if he tried to work through things. He would start blubbering in front of everyone he knew. That was one excuse to keep the door locked.

“You don’t have to.” Patton sounded upset. He always sounded upset these days--maybe it was the door muffling his voice, or just because he was talking to Roman. “You really don’t have to, kiddo, it’s okay. I get it. You’re--perfectly within rights not to come. I don’t want to pressure you.”

They didn’t want him there. Roman would ruin the whole thing, say something cruel and hurtful as he always did, and leave the situation worse than it started. That was one excuse to stay away.

“I get it,” Patton said, his voice barely making it through the door. “Janus won’t be there, and it will be calm, and we’ll talk things out. I get your hesitation, kiddo. It’s okay. I’d just--love if you gave us a chance.”

Would they give Roman a chance? How many chances were left until Roman ran out? What were the conditions of this chance--did he need to look better, act better, be better? He’d barely managed to put on makeup this morning. That was one excuse to stay inside.

“I guess that’s all I have to say.” Patton laughed a bit. “Maybe you’re asleep, and I’m just talking to myself. That’d be pretty silly of me, wouldn’t it?”

Roman was tired. He’d been tired for weeks. He was always tired. That was one excuse to avoid the meeting.

He had so, so many excuses.

They were probably the only things he was creative at.

“Well...goodbye, I guess?” Patton hesitated. Roman could see his shadow under the door. “Talk to you later, kiddo. My invitation stands.”

The shadow flickered and vanished. Roman didn’t move from his bed, splayed on the red-and-white quilt, staring at the ceiling.

They’d be arranged on the couch when the meeting started. He could picture it well enough. Logan in the armchair, Patton on the couch, Virgil on the arm of the couch--or, if he was stressed, the top of it. He probably would be stressed. They all would be. Patton would be worrying the sleeves of his hoodie, and Virgil would be chewing on his nails, and Logan would be shifting his thermos between his hands or drumming his fingers on his knee. Maybe they’d invite Thomas. Maybe Patton would double back and invite Janus after all.

It didn’t matter, though, because Roman wasn’t going.

Patton would start the family meeting. He always read the minutes, as it was, and thanked everyone for coming. Virgil usually bristled at the gratitude. Logan always returned it. Roman always bowed with a little twirl of his hand--ridiculously dramatic--and if Thomas was there, he’d smile with his nervous smile. It was a combination of Patton’s optimism and Virgil’s anxiety. Roman could always see them in Thomas, because he knew them so well, he knew where every jagged edge fit together.

Roman remembered how the family meetings always went. A problem, a discussion, a solution. It wasn’t like it was in videos. Videos were for Thomas issues. Family meetings were for family issues. There was often overlap, which made it common to pregame a video with a quick discussion, or to pile onto the couches when a video was concluded. In Roman’s memory, which was often wrong, this meeting was almost two weeks after the disastrous wedding. Two weeks was the longest time between a video and a meeting that Roman could remember. Two weeks was far too long, and yet, not long enough.

He’d known this was coming. He’d prepared himself. He’d even rehearsed apologies, perfectly crafted to gain sympathy--and what kind of manipulative person did that? Who tried that hard for affection? He couldn’t be truly accepted, truly loved, unless they knew the truth about Roman.

Except Roman couldn’t bear to let his walls down. He couldn’t bear to see the looks on their faces, if they knew everything--how much he failed, how much he wasn’t who they needed, how much he felt for them.

He couldn’t even imagine apologizing without his stomach flipping.

He wondered what they would talk about. He knew how the meetings usually went, but he wondered what would fit into the format, what would make Patton wince or Virgil shift on the couch. He wondered what solution they would find. They always found a solution. Sometimes it took several hours, but they did. Roman was usually the largest obstacle.

Maybe they would solve things easier, if he wasn’t there.

Or would they? If Roman was the problem, could they really find a solution without talking to him? Would they pass judgment on him while he sat in his room, alone, or would they dance around the issue? Pretend they weren’t missing anyone? Pretend everything was fine?

Roman glanced at his closed door. Patton would be downstairs. The meeting would be starting. He could picture the way they’d tug each other into a group hug at the end, or the way Virgil curled into himself when anxious, or the cute way Logan always bit his lip when thinking--he knew them so well, but he could see a million ways for the conversation to go. There were too many blank spaces between lines. Too many ways for the story to end.

Would they knock on his door later? Tell him what happened? Tell him--tell him they’d decided, that Roman needed to leave, that he was better off on the other side of the Mindscape? That they’d made a mistake in trying to be his friend?

Roman ran his hands down his arms and pressed his fingers into his skin. Chin up. Act like a prince. He wasn’t in the mood to cry again, although if everyone was busy downstairs, he had the least odds of being heard.

He felt greasy. Maybe it was because of the clothes he’d slept in for three days, or his unshowered and unbrushed hair, or the distinct lack of vegetables in his recent diet. He’d avoided eating with the others. He’d avoided the others in general.

He had no idea what they were talking about downstairs. What was so unimportant--so important--that Roman didn’t need to attend? Perhaps they were simply nice enough to leave him be, but he could hardly believe there wouldn’t be another shoe to fall.

Something would happen. Roman just couldn’t decide on what.

Curiosity gnawed at his empty stomach.

He didn’t want to be unprepared. He should get ready, should prepare an apology, should pack his things--his room was teetering with cushions and lace, and he winced at the prospect of cleaning it out. If he knew what they were planning, if he knew who he would face, he’d be ready.

Patton would be painfully nice. Roman could talk him out of banishment if he tried--a horrible thought. An evil thought. Roman could never manipulate Patton like that, could never take advantage of his trusting nature or the guilt he was sure to feel. So he’d stay silent. He’d let Patton stumble through platitudes before saying “sorry, Roman, but you have to go.”

Roman would smile and nod. He’d let Patton hug him, if Patton wanted, if that made Patton feel better. Or maybe Patton wouldn’t touch him. He certainly hadn’t in weeks.

Roman rubbed his arms.

Logan would be painfully clinical. If Logan decided something, it was almost impossible to change his mind--see every argument Roman had with him ever. He’d share his evidence, if Roman asked, if Roman was brave enough to ask. Maybe he’d even let Roman argue a point or two. But it wouldn’t change anything. It never did.

Roman would bite back his retorts. He’d avoid saying goodbye. If he did, he’d get choked up. Crying in front of anyone would be humiliating, and Logan would be more so.

Roman swallowed.

Virgil would--he could barely imagine a scenario where Virgil would have the courage to kick him out alone. But maybe Virgil wanted to do it himself. Maybe Virgil would shuffle his feet on the carpet, hands deep in his pockets. Maybe he’d chew his lip. Roman would reassure him, calm him down, coax a relieved smile out of him--and then he’d tell Roman to leave.

It was more likely that Virgil would have backup. Maybe Logan and Virgil, since Logan always calmed Virgil down--or Patton and Logan? Patton might want that logical reassurance. Or Patton and Virgil, if they wanted to be as emotional as possible. Or all three.

Roman didn’t know. It could be any of them, and Roman wasn’t ready.

If only he knew what to expect.

Roman glanced at the door.

The hallway was quiet. Roman slid on his socks past the doors, and paused at the stairs to gather information and courage. He could hear murmured conversation below--stops and starts, sounding hesitant. How long had it been since they started? He’d forgotten to check the time. All he could make out were singular vowels. Nothing concrete.

Roman inched closer to the top of the stairs, trying to stay out of sight. If he could get to the kitchen, he’d be hidden, but how could he get past--

Oh. Roman almost laughed at his stupidity. The next second, he appeared in the kitchen.

To avoid being spotted, he’d decided to sit on the floor, leaning against the counter. The kitchen tiles were cold under his feet. He wrapped his arms around his chest. With bated breath, he waited, but nobody entered the kitchen. Nobody said his name. The living room was silent.

Roman let out a long breath. He was already regretting this. What prince eavesdropped on his companions? If he was caught, he’d get an earful. Or worse--a disappointed look from Patton. Roman shuddered at the thought. Patton was exceedingly good at the disappointed look.

He didn’t want to move, or he might alert them. That was enough of an excuse to stay still and listen.

“...can’t keep putting this off,” Patton was saying when Roman tuned in. “I’ve given you all time, and I get that you need it, but we can’t just glare at each other forever! We have to actually talk about this.”

“Not now,” Virgil argued. “Roman’s not even here.”

“Roman--needs space.”

“So Roman gets space, but I don’t?” Virgil didn’t sound angry, at least to Roman. He just sounded upset. “How’s that fair?”

“You agreed to be here,” Patton said, with patience. “If you want to leave at any time, you can--”

“Cool--”

“But I think it would be a good idea for you to stay. If you want.”

“This is highly confusing,” Logan said. Roman tried not to overanalyze the entire situation, but Logan’s voice was clipped, strained in the wrong ways.

“Look,” Patton said with a sigh, “I’m trying to find a compromise. This isn’t easy and I’m pretty sure I’m messing some part of it up, but even an imperfect conversation is still a conversation. And we need one of those, guys. We really do.”

Roman heard the sound of a zipper. Virgil was probably pulling at the zippers on his sleeves.

“You’re doing fine,” Logan said. Reassuring and reluctant and quiet.

“Thanks,” Patton said. Reluctant and quiet.

“What now?” Virgil asked. Quiet.

It was just quiet for a long time, long enough for Roman’s knees to start aching. He didn’t move. He didn’t want to break the silence.

“I’m sorry,” Patton said.

Both Logan and Virgil started to say something, but their words jumbled together and they both went quiet.

“I’ve messed up a lot,” Patton continued, chuckling a bit. “Gosh, it’s been a lot. And that’s hurt you guys, and I’m sorry. So--maybe I’m going about this all wrong. I know you don’t really want to be here, but...I want to listen to you more. All of you. I’d like to hear what you have to say.”

Virgil mumbled something that Roman didn’t catch. It must have been something self-deprecating, because Patton clucked at him, and Logan murmured something back.

“So I’m giving you the floor. Even though it’s Thomas’.” Patton chuckled more at his own joke. Roman caught a snicker from Virgil as well. “Just...say what’s on your mind, okay?”

Another long moment of silence.

“Uh, who goes first?” Virgil asked. “Do we like, pick straws, or--”

“You can go first,” Logan said quickly.

“Dude! Don’t feed me to the wolves!”

“No wolves,” Patton reassured them. “You can go in any order you want.”

Virgil huffed. “Shouldn’t Princey be here?”

“If Roman doesn’t want to be here, we can’t make him,” Logan said with a touch of irritation. “I’d rather have a calm conversation with three people than an argument with four.”

Roman curled a bit further into a ball on the kitchen floor.

“Jury’s still out on calm,” Virgil muttered. “Yeah. So--me?”

“You don’t have to,” Logan said.

“But go for it,” Patton added.

“Yeah. Okay.” Virgil took a deep breath. If Roman listened closely, he could hear the faint rasp of an echo in his voice. “So--the wedding, huh? That was something. That happened.”

“Yes,” Logan said, when Virgil didn’t continue. “It did happen.”

“Yeah, I--ugh.” Virgil groaned. “I don’t know where to start. What to talk about, or whatever. Don’t you guys have any specific questions?”

“Uh--” Patton made a noncommittal noise. “I don’t wanna limit you, Virge.”

“I could use some limitations right about now.”

“Alright.” Roman could picture what Patton was doing--gesturing at Virgil like he was handing over his words on a platter. “How did the wedding make you feel?”

“Bad,” Virgil said.

“Good start,” Patton encouraged. “And?”

“It was like--” Virgil sucked in a breath and let it out. “Like I didn’t want to get involved, right after, ‘cause you guys seemed pretty busy and all. I was just trying not to freak out. Logan let me in his room, which was nice--”

Logan made a small noise. Maybe of surprise.

“--and that helped, but he was also talking to you guys so I couldn’t really avoid the whole thing, and then--” Virgil paused. Roman could just make out a muttered four-seven-eight, maybe from Patton, maybe from Logan. “And it was. Not fun. I wanted to help out, Pat, you seemed so upset and I really did want to--and--and Roman was upset, and Logan was telling me he could handle it--”

“That was…” Logan paused, but Virgil didn’t say anything else. “A bit of an error on my part.”

“Not your fault you got impersonated, L.”

Patton made a small noise. “I am really sorry about that, Logan.”

“Not your fault he got impersonated, either.”

“I could have noticed,” Patton said unconvincingly. “And I did press the skip button.”

“You did,” Logan said.

Silence fell.

“Uh--is it still my turn?” Virgil asked. “Did I--am I done?”

“I don’t--” Patton sighed. “This isn’t working either, is it.”

Nobody argued with him.

“Have we ever found a conversation tactic that does work?” Logan pointed out, sounding uncharacteristically glum. “Have we ever managed to fix every problem at hand, without simultaneously exacerbating several others?”

“I don’t think so,” Virgil said.

“It was rhetorical.” Logan sighed. “My point is that we’re stuck in a loop. We do this every time, and we’ve never managed to successfully communicate the root issues.”

“We’ve gotten better,” Patton said.

“Have we?”

Quiet again. Roman was beginning to stiffen in his position, and one of his feet was falling asleep. Roman shifted it as quietly as possible. It tingled.

“And I thought I was supposed to be the pessimist,” Virgil teased. It fell flat. “Look, L, I don’t think we should scrap the whole thing just because it doesn’t fix everything flat out--”

“But there has to be something we’re missing.” Patton’s voice was determined. “Logan’s right. There’s stuff at play deep down here, and we’ve never talked about it, because--because we don’t know how to get those real answers. Because we don’t know what questions to ask. So we need answers to the questions that we don’t know need answers.”

“You lost me,” Virgil said.

“He’s saying we should try to cut to the figurative heart of the issue.” Logan paused. “I agree, in theory.”

“Oh.” Virgil paused. “Stop--lying?”

Roman gripped his knees tightly.

“Lying has a place and time,” Patton said. “But--you know, there’s a reason why I didn’t invite Janus, right? He’s a good friend and an important part of Thomas. But he’s not--you guys. You guys are different. And--and I don’t think we can have true love if our relationship isn’t based on truth.”

“True love,” Virgil repeated with a snicker. “We’re not each other’s Disney princes, Pat.”

Logan snickered too. “I’m sure Roman would disagree.”

“We love each other!” Patton protested. “I--I love you guys, at least. I love you.”

“I know,” Virgil said after a moment, his voice bittersweet. “I know, Pat. You’re a good friend.”

A very long pause.

“We ought to do something about that,” Logan said, “shouldn’t we?”

“Do something--” Virgil laughed. “What are you--”

“Patton said we ought to be honest,” Logan said. Pointedly. “I also think it would be a good idea. For both of you.”

“What?” Patton sounded confused, but it was only the sound of confusion, not the real thing. “What’s up, Lo?”

“Yeah, L,” Virgil said, both an invitation and a warning. “What are you saying?”

A brief pause. Roman pictured Logan fiddling with his glasses and almost smiled.

“I have to admit this is not my area of expertise,” Logan said, his voice quiet. “However, I think observations have painted a clear picture of the situation. Our--issues with each other are myriad, and stem from a variety of sources, but it is as Patton said. We need to be honest. I believe there’s a very clear culprit for some of our communication issues, and I think you know what it is.”

Silence. Roman’s stomach was slowly dropping to the floor. He bit his lip and tried to stop himself from sinking out. He still needed to hear what they decided--although, the more the conversation continued, the more he felt like he was intruding. Things were getting personal. This wasn’t his place.

As if he heard Roman’s thoughts, Virgil blurted out “Should we really talk about this right now? While Roman’s--”

“We can think about that later,” Logan said. “I think the three of us need to admit a few things.”

“Dunno what you’re talking about.” Patton giggled weakly. “We can’t all keep up with you and your brain, Lo.”

Logan paused for too long to be natural. He was worried. Roman wondered what worried him--he should sink out now, before things got personal, but his feet were rooted to the kitchen floor--

“We aren’t friends,” Logan said.

“Uh, dude,” Virgil began, “you might wanna--”

“We aren’t just friends.” Logan let out a breath. “You know that.”

Roman needed to go. He wasn’t meant to hear this part. His breath was already catching in his throat. How dare he ruin this moment, how dare he toss himself into a private conversation, how dare his legs refuse to move--

“What are you talking about?” Virgil’s voice was harsh. Too harsh, not only for the conversation, but for Virgil. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do,” Logan said. “You know there are other things at play, it’s foolish to deny--”

“I’m not denying anything!”

“We’re not just friends!” Logan almost yelled. “The evidence is practically a mountain--we have sleepovers every weekend! We eat breakfast together!”

“Yeah, we’re friends!” Virgil fired back. “That’s normal friend stuff!”

“We’re family,” Patton amended, the first time he’d spoken. His voice was hollow. “Besides, it’s always just been us, of course we’re different.”

“We’re different,” Logan agreed. “Virgil falls asleep on your shoulder. You give us forehead kisses. We cuddle. That isn’t platonic.”

“And what’s your evidence, wise guy?” Virgil’s voice pitched upwards. “Platonic is weird! Romantic is weird! How are you supposed to instantly tell the difference?”

“I’m simply stating that there could be something else at play!”

“You’re my only friends!” Virgil burst out. “I don’t have anything else to compare it to--it’s normal. All of it. How I feel--it’s normal.”

Logan’s voice suddenly quieted. “And how do you feel?”

“Normal,” Virgil said.

Patton still hadn’t said anything else. Roman would have peeked around to see if he was okay, if he could remember how to move, how to think.

“Normal,” Virgil repeated. “It’s--we’re friends. We love each other. It’s normal.”

Logan hummed. “You were friends with Deceit, correct?”

“Janus,” Patton said faintly. Nobody acknowledged him.

“No,” Virgil said. “Yes. Kind of. It’s complicated.”

“Would you ever be comfortable with cuddling him?”

“I hate him.”

“We’re working under the assumption that you do not.”

“Look, I--it’s complicated.” Virgil huffed. “I wouldn’t be, but that’s because I hate him, and I’ve always been way more comfortable with you guys anyway, ‘cause I don’t have to act--mean, or whatever. You guys are different than him. Always have been.”

“Different,” Logan said.

“Yeah, because I literally hate him--” Virgil groaned. “Look, L, don’t make patterns where there aren’t any. It’s fine. We’re--we’re friends.”

“Logan has a point.” Patton’s words came out in a rush, like he’d been bottling them up. “He has a point.”

Logan made a surprised noise. “I do?”

“Et tu, Brute?” Virgil’s voice softened. “You think so?”

“Janus is really nice,” Patton said. “We’ve been talking for a while now, ever since--well, everything. I’ve appreciated his support. He makes me laugh. And--and he’s not like you guys. Not just because he’s a newer friend. You’re all different.” His voice dipped. “You’ve always been different to me.”

A long, long silence. Roman couldn’t feel his legs, or his lungs, or his heart.

“This isn’t my area of expertise,” Logan said. Quietly, quietly. “I suppose there really isn’t any way to tell, objectively, what we--are to each other. All I can say is, to me, you are a lot. Not everything--I don’t believe anyone could be everything--but...more than on average. More than I’ve admitted to myself.”

“You’re kidding,” Virgil blurted out, an edge of hysterical laughter in his voice. “You’re--that’s not it, that can’t be it, you can’t--”

“Doesn’t it make sense?” Patton pleaded, his words all in a rush again. “It--it doesn’t have to, gosh, I know it doesn’t have to, but if you could give it a chance--”

“A chance?” Virgil repeated incredulously. “We’re not--we’re not--”

“I’m sorry,” Patton said. Quietly. Roman was so tired of quiet. “I’m really sorry, Virgil.”

“You’re--you’re serious.” Virgil sounded inches from a panic attack. “You’re--”

“We can all take a moment to think,” Logan suggested, sounding inches from his own. “We can--we can take time to process, it’s fine, we don’t have to work this out right now--we can forget this ever happened--”

“It’ll be okay,” Patton said. Maybe to Virgil. Maybe to Logan. Maybe to himself. “We’ll handle this. We always do.”

“You’re--” Virgil’s voice broke. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Virge,” Patton said. Quietly, quietly, too quietly for Roman to sneak away. “You’re the coolest emo around.”

“No.” Virgil’s voice pitched frantic again. “No, no--I love you guys, don’t I? I--you’ve always been there for me, and you always looked after me, and Logan always calms me down and Pat, you always make me smile, and--”

“You don’t have to do this,” Logan murmured. “I understand that I miscalculated, you don’t need to--”

“No!” Virgil might have laughed. Or sobbed, it was hard to tell. “No, L, you genius, you got it exactly right.”

Roman swallowed and realized his mouth was dry.

“I love you!” Virgil said, triumphantly, like he’d solved everything. Like everything made sense. Maybe it did. “I love you, I love you so much--what am I even saying, this is so stupid--I love you, I was an idiot, I didn’t--”

“I--” Patton laughed breathlessly. “Virgil--”

“Do you--” Virgil’s voice dipped. “Do you--”

“I love you too,” Patton said, as if it was the first time he’d ever said it. Maybe it was.

“I--” Logan coughed awkwardly. “Not to seem obtuse, but can we clarify if--”

“If you’re included in the ‘you’?” Virgil laughed. “L, obviously, it wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“Ah.” Was Logan blushing? He sounded like it. Roman would be ecstatic to witness a flustered Logan, if he was not currently frozen and terrified. “That--ah. I...likewise, I hold an amount of affection towards you that is commonly considered romantic. So to speak.”

“Aww!” Patton cooed. “Really?”

“Yes, really!” Logan said. “I think we’ve established that we all love each other! I think that’s clear!”

“Always has been, I’m just an idiot.” Was Virgil smiling? He sounded like it. Oh, if only Roman was able to appreciate it. “Y’know, it’s been...an understood thing.”

“Yeah,” Patton said. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Silence.

“This doesn’t solve anything,” Logan said, as if he was obligated to point out the flaws. As if he couldn’t let himself enjoy the moment yet. “We still have much to discuss, not least--”

“I know, I know.” Patton was smiling, Roman could hear it, and it made Roman’s chest hurt. “But it’ll help, that we were honest--and aren’t you guys happy? That we can--”

“Do what?” Virgil asked, when Patton petered out.

“Be...together,” Patton finished. “If you want.”

Roman’s stomach twisted in Celtic knots. He shook his foot, almost hoping that they’d hear him and stop talking--and then he could distract them, remind them of him and why they’d started this meeting in the first place, ruin their moment like always--

“I’d like that,” Logan said.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “Me too.”

And then it was entirely the wrong kind of quiet. A movement or two, then quiet--and Roman could come to all sorts of conclusions, imagine them clearly in his head, but he settled on the obvious one. He cursed his mind for supplying him with a clear mental picture. Oh, so he couldn’t think of a video idea in a week, but now his imagination worked?

The quiet stretched on longer. Too long. Too long and Roman was itching at the seams, thumbing at his sash, regretting ever stepping foot out of his room.

But it was fine. It was fine. He’d just leave now.

If they were doing what he thought they were, they probably wouldn’t notice.

Roman steeled himself, pushed himself onto his knees, and stood up. As quickly as possible. Raise his hand. Teleport. It was easy--like reaching out and plucking a string, tensing a muscle, lighting a fire. A flourish of the hand, and the kitchen slipped out of reach, and he didn’t want to see the others, but he did--Patton beaming, and Virgil covering his smile with his hand, and Logan tilting his head forward and then Roman closed his eyes because he didn’t want to see, he didn’t--

But, well, he could imagine.

His room was empty. When he flopped into the same position he’d started the day in, and covered his head with his blanket, he could almost pretend he hadn’t left. That he’d dreamed the whole thing. That they weren’t downstairs, right now, holding hands, cupping cheeks and--

Roman yelled something inaudible into his pillow.

He should be happy for them. He should be happy--and he was! He was happy for them. They deserved each other. They were his best friends--his friends--his--

They were...something, that was for sure.

They deserved each other.

Roman should be happy.

It would be good for the family, now that they were no longer on bad terms. Roman couldn’t count the number of awkward glances they’d had over the years. Maybe this had finally helped to clear the air. That was one excuse to be happy for them.

Roman thrived off romance. He could hardly turn down the opportunity to support such a cute couple, especially when they were so adorably awkward in their confessions. That was another excuse to be happy for them.

It would take the pressure off him. They seemed to have entirely forgotten their meeting’s goal, which included deciding whether Roman deserved to stay. Maybe they’d keep forgetting. Maybe the beauty of love would soften their hearts towards him, and Roman could scrape by on table scraps and glancing smiles, surviving on the edges once again. They’d tolerate him. They’d forget he existed, because they’d be enamored with each other, exactly as they deserved.

That was another excuse to be happy.

And they wanted this. They’d clearly pined for so long, and now they had what they wanted, they had each other--Roman was thrilled for them, ecstatic, over the moon. It felt right, somehow, to see them all together. The perfect fairytale ending. If this was their happy ending, who was Roman to stand in their way?

Did he want to be more of a villain?

No. He couldn’t ruin yet another perfect thing. He just had to suck it up and be chivalrous. He wasn’t their hero, wasn’t their friend, wasn’t their--wasn’t theirs. He was nothing but a fourth wheel.

We love you.

Right.

Roman pressed his hands to his eyes to stop the tears. There was no reason to cry. This was fine. He should be happy. He’d faked happy for years and years, why was this what he couldn’t handle? What had he expected? He didn’t get a consolation prize after what he’d done. He didn’t rescue the dashing princes. He hadn’t earned his happy ending, and now he was alone in his room, while the three most important people in his life found solace in each other.

And it was fine.

They were happy.

So Roman would be happy, too. Roman would be everything they needed him to be. Roman would make the most of this, and he would be a good friend and a good person, even if it killed him. No bitterness. No jealousy. No longing for something he knew he didn’t deserve.

No excuses.

They were in love. They were happy. And that was enough.

If Roman truly loved them, he would let that be enough.

But, well, Roman didn’t truly do much of anything. And he spent most of the day in a pile on his pillows, ignoring the knocks on his door, and getting absolutely nothing done. He was out of ideas and out of passion. Whenever he closed his eyes, all he could imagine was being shoved out his door, and the soft look in his best friends’ eyes as they kissed each other on the living room couch.

But it was fine, Roman was fine, and everything was fine.

Princes didn’t complain. Princes moved on. Princes were gracious and helpful in the face of true love.

Princes got true love.

Roman wasn’t much of a prince, though. And it was fine. He was fine.

Everything was so incredibly fine.

When Roman finally fell asleep, his last thought was worry--that he’d summoned Janus with all his lying. But Janus didn’t appear. It was just Roman, slipping into dreams on his rumpled quilt, glad of an excuse to stop thinking.

First. Next. Masterlist.

General taglist:

@the17thmeatball

@most-likely-fandom

@csi-baker-street-babes

@caffeinated-cryptid

@thefivecalls

@ollyollyoxinfree

@the-gay-is-back

@dramaticsnakes

@stoicpanther

@chaospersonified

@thatoneloudowl

@jungle321jungle

@mistythegenderqueermess

@k1ngtok1

@joylessnightsky

@elizabutgayer

@ohheavenlylord

@enby-ralsei

@remy-the-lemon-berry

@drarrymalecsolangelo

@riptide-123

@fander-fic-recs

@multi-fandoms-posts

Taglist from @the-taglist-repository:

@katelynn-a-fan  @dwbh888 @royal-stormcloud @awkwardjester @smileyzs @robinwritesshitposts @thatgaydemigodnerd @callboxkat @potatsanderssides @idont-freaking-know​ @nonasficcollection @supernovainthenightsky @evoodo123  @hekking-happy-nonsense @cottonwoolsocks @aceawkwardunicorn @somehow-i-got-an-account @grouptalekindnesssoul @the-hoely-bleach @anvil527up @fanficloverinthesun @brain-deadx0 @the-grounded-raven @a-fandom-trashdump @demoniccheese83

Ask to be included (on a specific taglist for this fic, or my general one)!

#roman sanders #sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders angst #lamp #romantic lamp #averywrites #a conversation i overheard #if i don't update all the links/masterlists/everything before i go to bed #shhhh u didnt see that #i'll organize it all in the morning i promise djbhgsfshsj

[blackmissfrizzle]

Just Right (3)

Part 2

Characters: Angel Reyes x black!plussized!reader

Chapter Summary: Someone throws a wrench in the plans.

Chapter Warning: Footbal AU. Don’t hate me please 😬 angst, implied smut, and some very petty behavior.

If you want to read more here’s my masterlist and you want to be notified when I post here’s my taglist

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics

The next morning, you had a pep in your step. Angel left you in bed with breakfast and a note saying he went on a run.

Coming downstairs you heard Angel’s voice, you assumed he was on the phone and not talking to the devil herself.

“Adelita, this is a surprise.” Angel backed away from her when he heard your voice.

“Y/N,” she smiled and pulled you into a hug. Backing away she twirled your hair around your finger. “I see the drought is over. Who’s the lucky guy?” If Adelita wasn’t so damn conceited she would’ve smelled Angel on you. But of course, you wouldn’t be able to bag a guy like Angel.

Angel cleared his throat and stepped in between the two of you, grabbing onto Adelita’s hips. “Uhh, let’s leave Y/N alone. I’m sure she’s not the kiss and tell type.”

“Not around you.” She joked, patting Angel’s chest. “Once we’re done talking me and you can have some girl talk like old times. Just you’ll be the one sharing stories this time.”

The nerve. This is the second time in your life that you wanted to knock Adelita out. “Yeah sure.” You gave her a tight smile over your shoulder and went back to your room.

While walking you could hear the hushed whispers and the sounds of lips kissing. As soon as you knew you were out of sight you ran to your room and immediately started packing.

“What are you doing?” Right after Adelita left, Angel ran to you. “What does it look like Angel?”

Tugging your pants out of your hands, Angel stopped you. “You don’t have to leave.”

“And what?!” You screamed in his face. “Stay here with you and Adelita?!”

He tried to hug you, but you pushed him away. “You really must be crazy. How are you just gonna take her back?”

“She was my fiancée, she deserves the benefit of the doubt.” Angel explained like it was a one size fits all reason.

“Oh, the same fiancée that dumped you once your future was unsure.” You scrunched your face up. “The same fiancée that told you it was over through a letter? The same fiancée that was all over social media hanging out and partying while you were in rehab? The same fiancée that so happens to ‘coincidentally’ come back into your life after you just made the biggest comeback ever?” You brushed past him went out the door. “Yeah, you can miss me with that bullshit.”

Angel trailed behind you, hoping he could amend things with you. “Y/N, I’m sorry.”

Whipping around you shoved him. “Yeah, you are. You know honestly, I don’t feel bad for myself as much as I do for you. I pray to God that he never makes me as pathetic as you. Have a nice life, Angel Reyes.”

Opening the front door revealed a sympathetic Mr. Felipe and an angry EZ. They both tried to stop you, but you kissed each man goodbye promising to keep in touch.

EZ waited until he saw you drive away to attack his brother. “What the fuck did you do?” Angel blocked some of his brother’s punches, but EZ managed to get some in.

Felipe was able to pull his youngest off his eldest. “EZ that’s enough!”

“Nah, Pop! You saw her. She practically ran out in tears.”

“It’s none of your damn business, Ezekiel!” Angel tried to walk away from them, but Felipe stopped him. “Explain yourself, son.”

“Adelita.” Both his father and brother groaned at that name. Now they knew why you ran out like that.

EZ didn’t have time for whatever excuse that his brother had. “You two deserve each other. And I hope when you come to your senses it’s too late.” He slammed the door on the way out, too disgusted with Angel to stay.

A few moments later Felipe followed his son out. “Pop,” Angel cried out, hoping to gain some sort of sympathy. “Not right now, Angel.” He stopped at the door and looked back at his son. “Unlike your brother I hope it won’t be too late for you to come to your senses. When you stick your head out of your ass, you and Y/N are perfect for each other.”

Once he was alone, Angel sat on the staircase wondering if he made the right decision.

Losing Angel just wasn’t about your heart breaking, but also losing your best friend. Those months spent with him was probably the best time of your life. The only thing that got you through the days were work and Rio.

At first, he assured you that he could just be your friend but someway somehow, he wormed his way into something more. You told him that you didn’t want him as some rebound, but he cockily said, “Ain’t no way I’m a rebound.” So, you stayed and started dating him.

You were reading a book when Rio came and laid his head in your lap. “Mamaaaa,” he sung kissing the little bit of your exposed fupa. “What do you want?” He was only this adorable when he wanted something like that extra cookie that would mess up his diet. “Nothing extra. Just go to dinner with me.”

“That’s it?” You closed your book and set it down to look at him curiously. “Yeah, I got a dress picked out, hairstylist and makeup artist on the way.”

“Wait, what kind of dinner is this?” Dinners with Rio never required all the hoopla. “The league always hosts a dinner for all the teams in the semifinals.”

“I know, I know, I know,” Rio trampled over your words, not letting you get a word in. “I know that dumbass is gonna be there, but I think it would be the perfect place to show him what he’s missing out on.”

If you went this would be the first time you saw Angel and you weren’t sure if you were ready for that. Last time he made you look like a fool. “I don’t know Rio.”

Sitting up, Rio picked you up and sat you down in your lap. “But mama,” he attacked your neck with his lips, adding a little bite every now and then. “I’ll be bored without you. And who am I gonna shove in a closet and fuck her like a dirty girl?”

“You’ll be fine without me for a couple of hours.”

“Alright, time for the big guns.” Rio led you to his bedroom with a covered mannequin in the center. Unveiling the mannequin, he revealed the most beautiful dress. You would be crazy to not wear that dress.

“Ok, I’ll go!” Rio pulled you by your hips against him. “Good, I thought I would have to use my other negotiation methods.”

“Nah, I still need convincing.” Rio backed you into the bed and pulled off your shorts. “Okay, but you got 15 minutes to cum two times before the stylist gets here.”

Angel was doing his best at trying to keep his cool. Adelita was making her way through all the owners, sponsors, and players ‘networking’ to gain traction for her cause. It wasn’t that he didn’t support, actually he was very supportive of it, but this night was in celebration of him and the other players. And he couldn’t ask her to quit it without looking like a complete douchebag.

“Are you two seriously making bets?” Angel wasn’t paying that much attention to Coco and Gilly until they said Adelita’s name. They were betting on when she would corner their team owner, Miguel Galindo. “How else are we gonna pass the time? Ain’t like there’s scintillating conversation.” Coco collected money from Riz and put it in his breast pocket.

“Pendejo,” Angel ordered another drink and while waiting for it he heard Coco whistle. Turning around to see what made Coco speechless, Angel was glad that he already set his old glass on the bar top, because he would’ve dropped it. There you were in the most beautiful dress looking like a goddess, but his mood soured when he saw that it was Rio escorting you.

Bishop walked up beside him and smacked him in the back of the head. “Fucking dumbass. Now she’s with that asshole.” Angel opened his mouth to say something, but Bishop held up his hand. “I don’t wanna hear it. And you better leaver her alone, she looks happy.” His coach pointed his chin towards you and Rio kissing. Angel slammed back his drink and ordered another one. This was about to be a long night.

“I’m gonna go say hi to Bishop and the guys.” Rio looked for your friends and saw that Angel was right there next to them. “You sure? You want me to go with you?” It warmed your heart that Rio was so protective over you. It was unfamiliar territory for you. Usually, you were the one protecting others. “No, you stay here with your team, I’ll be okay.” Rio quirked his eyebrow, questioning you. He was trying to break you out of the habit of you masking your feelings, pretending you’re fine when you’re really not. “Rio, I promise. I’ll be good.” You patted his chest and started to walk away, but then he caught Angel staring at the two of you real hard and he couldn’t help but give him a show.

Spinning you around into his arms, Rio smashed his lips against yours. His still taste a little bit of yourself from when he wanted to make you his meal. Rio’s hands drifted to your ass and you did little to stop him. Ending the kiss, he tugged your bottom lip slowly releasing it and ending your connection. “Go say hi to your friends.” He whispered in your ear, fixing some of your lipstick that got under your lips.

Angel wanted to knock Rio the clean the fuck out. Who the fuck did he think he was practically dry humping you in public like that? “You better keep your mouth shut. You lost your privileges to be mad.” Coach Hank warned Angel as he saw you approach the group.

“Hey guys!” You were genuinely happy to see all of them. Since, you cut off contact with Angel you haven’t talked to any of them at all.

They all lined up to hug you, almost fighting each other to be the first one. But Angel waited his turn. He had a lot more to say than just hi.

It was a bit awkward at first. Neither one of you made the first move. Eventually, you threw yourself in his arms and you were almost a goner. You did not know that hugging him would bring back all those feelings you tried to bury deep down.

“You look beautiful.” He kept a hand around your wrist, his thumb stroking the inside of it. “Thank you.”

His eyes kept dipping to your dress. There were some cut out pieces revealing more skin than he cared for. “Where’s the rest of your dress?”

Snatching your wrist away, you crossed your arms over your chest to keep yourself from slapping the shit out of Angel. “Rio doesn’t seem to mind.”

Angel invaded your space and glared down at you. “Do I look like Rio?”

“Do I look like Adelita?”

Angel bit the inside of his cheek. He knew he had no reason to question you. You weren’t his, but damn it he wanted you to be.

“This was a mistake coming over here. Go back and talk to your fiancée.”

“She’s not my fiancée.”

Skrtt, you stopped your retreat. “Say what?”

“I said she’s not my fiancée.” Angel wasn’t able to explain further. Adelita finally came and graced you with her presence. She didn’t pay any attention to Angel. All her attention was on you. Adelita was actually pulling you away to talk to one of the other coaches about joining their staff.

This was almost as torturous as talking to Angel. Adelita barely let you get a word in. She was acting like she was your damn agent. Luckily, Rio came and saved the day.

“Where are we going?” You whispered as he pulled you into the hallway. “Don’t worry about it.” He jiggled each door until he found an unlocked door and pushed you through.

“Rio no,” you weakly protested clutching onto his tux. “What? You don’t wanna give daddy a little something something?” He pouted, knowing it was your weakness.

“Okay, but it has to be fast.” Rio kissed you some more knowing how turned you got by simply making out.

Due to your combined breaths getting heavier neither one of you heard the turning of the doorknob. It wasn’t until the light from the hallway shone on you and Rio, exposing your dirty deed.

“Oh shit, my bad dawg!” Angel lifted his head from Adelita’s neck and apologized to the other couple. He didn’t mean it all. Angel saw Rio lead you to the hallway and by the mischievous look he had on his face, he knew his opponent was up to no good.

The little smirk on Angel’s face told you that none of it was an accident. “It’s okay, I wasn’t feeling well anyway. I think we should go home.” You smirked back at Angel. He wasn’t the only one that can play games.

“C’mon Angel, they need to get home.” Adelita winked at you and led an unwilling Angel back to the party.

You were almost out until you got stopped by Mr. Galindo. He was the only team owner you hadn’t talked to that night.

With Miguel Galindo trying to convince you to join his staff and Adelita standing next to you patiently waiting for her chance, Angel and Rio were left alone with each other.

“I don’t know what you’re doing, but stay the fuck away from Y/N. You’re no good for her.” Angel had to refrain from snatching up Rio as he laughed. “You got jokes man.” Rio stepped closer to him, they were basically nose to nose. “At least when I make her cry it’s from my dick and not from being a dickwad.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you kept watch on Rio and Angel. Those two couldn’t be alone without trying to fight in the first 30 seconds.

The scene before you was getting to be too much, but you couldn’t do anything without being disrespectful towards Miguel. Thankfully, Coco and Gilly were watching them too and were able to pull Angel away.

Somehow Miguel talked you into staying for the entire dinner. And because the universe loved you so much you and Rio were assigned to the same table as Angel and Adelita.

After Adelita formally introduced herself to him. And you didn’t know if it was the alcohol or not, but it seemed that she was flirting with Rio. Not that you had anything to worry about. Rio wasn’t entertaining her at all.

“She take my money when I’m in need. Yeah, she’s a trifling’ friend indeed.” As soon as you recognized the notes, you tried to stomp Rio’s foot, but he was too quick.

“Huh, what was that?” Adelita didn’t quite catch what Rio was saying. “Oh nothing, I just got a song stuck in my head.  Now I ain’t saying she a gold digger. But she ain’t messing’ with no broke bro.”

Angel had to admit to himself that was funny, but ain’t no way he’ll let Rio know that.

“Stop it!” You whispered in Rio’s ear. Even if Adelita was oblivious to him making fun of her, everyone else surrounding them wasn’t. “Now you know you always tell me that but we both know you don’t mean it hear or at home.” Heat crept up your face and all you could do was hide your face in the crook of Rio’s neck. Rio slightly turned to kiss your forehead while fingering the bracelet he got you.

Once the glint of the bracelet caught Adelita’s eye she snatched your wrist from Rio. You didn’t mind though because you and Rio were off in your own little world. Not even the harsh stare from Angel could tear your eyes away from Angel.

“Ouch! What the fuck, Angel?” Adelita rubbed at her ankle. “My bad.” He frowned as Rio smirked at him knowing full well he was the intended target.

As the night went on, Rio’s and Angel’s antics went up. You don’t know what you did, but you had two petty kings arguing over you. And at times it was funny but also stressful.

The little innuendos concerning you flew over Adelita’s head but everyone else was getting them. They were getting so vicious that Coco and Gilly started another bet on who would swing first.

The event was concluding when things got downright ugly. Angel once again voiced his concerns of Rio dating you. Rio had enough and went for the low blow. “You’re just mad because I already took your girl and I’m about to take your city and your ring.”

Coco and Gilly’s bet was long forgotten as Angel went for Rio. “Don’t be mad, Reyes. I’m just spitting facts. If I’m wanna keep it hunnid, if I threw the right amount of cash, I could have your other girl too.”

“RIO!” You scolded him trying to pull him away. Thank god, Adelita was nowhere near to hear that little bit.

“Nah, babe fuck that.” Rio shrugged you off of him and stood toe to toe to Angel. “You ain’t on top no more big dawg. Get use to it.”

Angel just shook his head and turned around like a wounded animal. “Coco, give Gilly his money.”

“What?” Coco asks too late because Angel threw the first punch at Rio. And once they started fighting it was hard to get them to stop. Even Gilly couldn’t hold Angel. It wasn’t until you did something that they stopped.

Bishop tried to stop you once he noticed what you were attempting to do, but you slipped right past him. The boys were in between blows giving you the perfect opportunity to step in the middle of them. As soon as you became an obstacle each man lowered their fist.

Angel actually started to cower some when he saw your face. This was like your training face but a thousand times worse. Rio never saw you this pissed and he was beginning to get scared to breath the wrong way. Either way both men knew to shut the hell up.

Facing Angel first, you shoved him in the chest. “Angel Ignacio Reyes, I know you were raised better than this.”

“I’m sorry.” Angel mumbled, his eyes downcasted.

“And you!” You faced Rio, pointing a finger in his face. “I’ll deal with you when we get home.”

“Next time leave your petty bullshit for the football field.” You told the both of them before heading out without even waiting for Rio. 

Damn, you knew you should’ve stayed your behind at home.

Tagging: @tashawar​ @ourlittlesecretsoveragain​ @starrynite7114​ @sambucky8​ @mygirlrenee​ @richonne4life​ @readsalot73​ @chaneajoyyy​ @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat​ @jassydwill11​ @otomefromtheheart​ @miss-nori85​ @xsweetdellzx​ @cocogodess15​ @ljstraightnochaser​ @my-rosegold-soul​ @angrythingstarlight​ @brattyfics​ @lovebennycolon​ @langiinspirations​ @chibsytelford​ @trulysuccubus​ @spookys-girl​ @sesamepancakes​ @literaturefeen​ @brownsugarcoffy​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @fvckthisbxtchup​ @theartisticqueen​ @vsfavs​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @angelreyesgirl​ @woahitslucyylu​ @marvelmaree​ @blessedboo​

#black!reader #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x black!reader #angel reyes x plussized!reader #angel reyes x black!plussized!reader #Mayans mc #frizzlefic #frizzlesfic #frizzlewrites #angel reyes