#i fell into some old favourite tropes with him

[catboyazem]

let it be known that after making that gifset yesterday i then spent 5 consecutive hours writing him a profile from scratch ✌️ he is finally a proper oc with a name and a personality and all.

meet quill

#log entry #quill #now i get to further refine his vibe by making him a better playlist #possibly the best part of character building #i fell into some old favourite tropes with him #but given he's my player character i think that's fair #click this link to see his beautiful exo face #there's also a ref sheet with the full details of his glam! thank u guys for loving it so much #those notes have made me happy cry ur all so sweet

[vnusoki]

MY LOVE, MINE, MINE, MINE. . .

ノsynopsis. His love was you, but you were gone.

ノtags. zhongli x reader, neuvillette x reader, xiao x reader. reader is dead. vague descriptions of how tho. a long time has passed. grief. mortal x immortal trope.

ノa/n. ahh. this trope is so sad, I just had to.

ZHONGLI had not missed a single anniversary since your death. He made it a tradition to always visit your favourite places in liyue. Not like he didn’t either way.

Some would say he was a heartbroken, lovesick fool for still being kept up with the death of someone who’d perished centuries ago. Zhongli had lived too many a life. He’d seen death more than any throughout the lands.

It shouldn’t have affected him as much as it did, but you’d captured who’s heart and very soul in your soft, loving hands and when they withered and died, you’d taken his heart with you.

To some place he couldn’t reach you. But he knew he’d meet you eventually nonetheless.

So Zhongli visited the places you once did, drank your favourite tea and visited your favourite sights in liyue because for as long as he would be alive, he wouldn’t ever forget you.

NEUVILLETTE had been a sea dweller long before he was the Iudex of fontaine. He roamed the vast expanse of the oceans surrounding the land, listening in on stories from harbour men and seeing ferocious beasts deep down in the belly of the water.

None had scared him. But surprisingly, you did. A mere mortal who’d hooked his heart and yanked it away from him like the fish you hunted at the lakes.

There was something about you he couldn’t shake off. Maybe that was the reason why, after decades of meeting at the same place, you’d stopped coming that neuvillette finally understood why.

Why you, a mortal , had done such an affect on him. He was too late to tell you, he found. Centuries later, he would mull over and think of what had been you, and he couldn’t stop the guilt from eroding him piece by piece.

If only he could’ve told you he loved you then.

XIAO never once let his guard down, neither for the foes he fought or the ones he would call comrades and friends. He isolated all from his heart and made it so as if he didn’t have one.

You were a mere villager. Yet still you had traversed the harsh terrain and the broken patchwork that was his heart and you’d mended the pieces that he thought would never be fixed.

Of course though. You were a mortal and you aged quicker than he did and in only the span of a few decades had you grown old and tired, unable to do anything.

It was only when you passed that xiao realised how much he should’ve said to you and now could never. How ironic was it that he fell for the very thing he wished to so desperately be?

© VNUSOKI 24 ! do not copy or repost my work !

#genshin impact x reader #genshin fluff #genshin angst #genshin x reader #genshin impact #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #zhongli angst #neuviill

[bishopsbeloved]

the art of falling in love (part five)

natasha romanoff x fem reader

best friend!yelena belova, aroace!yelena belova, internalised homophobia, found family trope, coming of age, angst, fluff (eventual happy ending)

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five (16.3k words) | epilogue

read this fic on ao3!

Death was first explained to you and Yelena when you were six; Yelena’s favourite of her mother’s pigs passed away, and you were both called in from playing outside to be sat down gravely.

“Girls… Wilbur the piggy has, ah, passed away,” Alexi told you. You stared back at him blankly.

“Do you know what that means?” added Melina more gently.

“Uh… Peter from class said his mom and dad passed away,” Yelena offered after a few moments. “And it means that, like, he can’t see them ever again, so he lives with his aunt now.”

“Yes!” said Alexi enthusiastically, before catching himself and adding in a much more solemn tone, “I mean, ah, yes… very sad. Not good.”

Melina looked at him sternly and he fell silent. “You are right, Yelena. When someone passes away, it means they are no longer with us.”

“Like when you go to the store?”

“No. When I go to the store I am always coming back, да? Passing away is permanent, and it means you never see them again.”

“Oh. But I like Wilbur,” said Yelena sadly, and you nodded in agreement.

“That is what makes life all the more precious,” Melina told you gently. “You never know when someone may pass away — only that everybody will, someday. So you must enjoy the time you have with them, my darlings, and never take it for granted.”

As the years went on and the two of you began to understand what death actually means, that first introduction to it became somewhat of a running joke between you and Yelena (because how else can humans deal with such a terrifying concept as death? You can choose to either laugh or cry, and Yelena will always choose to laugh); the idea of someone passing away will often be referred to as going to the store. For example, Alexi is probably the sole man responsible for the entirety of Ohio state’s roadkill — neither you nor Yelena can remember a car journey with him in the wheel during which some unfortunate creature has not stumbled into his path and suffered fatally for that mistake. Every time it happens, without fail, Yelena will turn around eagerly in her seat or poke her head out of the window and assess the damage before gravely announcing, “That one is definitely not coming back from store.”

It’s a euphemism that can be used in any situation — and often is, actually. Whenever the TV signal packs up (as it often does in such a rural town as your own) and the Kardashians begin to cut out awkwardly, Yelena will throw down the remote and shout in frustration “Ma! The fork thingy on the roof has gone store again,” and Melina will know exactly what she means. Or whenever your history teacher Mr Fury hobbles into class, who is so old he looks like he’s witnessed half the events he teaches you, Yelena will nudge you and whisper “he is close to store’s doorstep now, eh?” Et cetera, et cetera. The phrase gets used often.

You feel silly for your mind wandering to those words, given the circumstances. But all you can think of right now is your overwhelming hopes and prayers that Liho has not gone to the store — and that neither has your bond with Yelena. As for Natasha… well, recent times have been a cruel wake-up call.

It’s been a few hours since Melina left with the cat, and the only text you’ve gotten from her since then says cat in surgery now. Yelena has barricaded herself in your shared room — her room now, you think miserably to yourself. You have never, ever seen her so upset, not in your whole life. You don’t think you’ve ever even argued with her, outside of your usual half-hearted play wrestles. But now she’s shouted at you through your thick heavy door, a solid wall between you, putting miles between the two of you but still not enough distance to lessen the brutality of the words she hurls at you from the other side of it. Words you can’t think of for too long or tears will begin to brim in your eyes all over again. Words which you know you deserve, but ones you never thought you’d hear your best friend say to you.

Now you sit uncomfortably stiff on the couch, feeling like a stranger in the home you’ve grown up in, the silence threatening to suffocate you. You feel almost like a prisoner in your body, unable to move as you relieve the last few hours over and over in your head. There’s no doubt in your mind that Yelena is right. You are an awful person. If you weren’t, if you were better, maybe Natasha would still want you, instead of casting you aside once you began to bore her. Maybe if you were better you’d have been sensible or strong enough to not sneak around with her at all. But you’re not, and now you’ve broken apart a family you weren’t even worthy of in the first place.

Natasha is sat in the armchair opposite you, legs curled beneath her, nursing her bloody nose. Her gaze has been fixed on you for the indeterminable amount of time you’ve both been sat here, but you are too exhausted to care. For once, you have much, much bigger problems than her feelings.

Eventually, she speaks, more subdued than usual. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Your voice doesn’t sound like yours. It’s somewhere else, someone else’s, far away.

“For…” She hesitates. Like there’s something she doesn’t want to say out loud. “For not, uh. For treating you badly.”

Well, that’s not really what you expected her to say.

Your silence prompts her to flounder further. “I just— I don’t, well, I can’t really explain a lot, but I— I know I messed up. You deserved better. And I’m sorry.”

And you’re so done with her, and so little of yourself is left now that you simply stand up and walk away.

Natasha doesn’t even call after you, just kind of makes this sad and defeated little noise that makes your heart hurt. You know it would just ache even more if you turned around again, though. So you don’t. You walk the hall for a few aimless moments before your feet carry you to the only person currently home who you still have a dependable relationship with — Alexi.

His workshop, as he calls it, is adjoined to the kitchen; a tiny wooden door which he has to bend himself double to fit through, leading to the garage. This has been his space for as long as you can remember. You have no idea how he moves with such ease through it when it’s like a maze to you — huge chunks of greasy half-repaired machinery everywhere, cluttered workbenches and racks of tools and shelves of liquids labelled in his indecipherable Russian scrawl. He often has the tiny tin portable perched on a shelf squeaking out radio shows in his mothertongue which he guffaws merrily at, but as you enter now the room is peacefully quiet, save for Alexi’s disjointed hums of a thousand songs in one and the little chink noises the piece of metal he’s working on makes every time he hits it, slowly bending it into shape.

“Ah, привет! Good evening, daughter,” he says cheerfully, without even turning around as you creep up barefoot behind him. He doesn’t say anything more, and neither do you, for a while; you opt to simply sink down onto one of the wooden stools littered about the place and watch Alexi absently while he works. This doesn’t faze him at all. On the occasions where Yelena was busy without you as a kid, you would do this very thing. Alexi would simply chuckle at you and ruffle your hair with a large bearish hand, oftentimes leaving behind little smudges of black motor oil in it. You’re still in your prom outfit, though, with your hair done up intricately, so tonight he stops himself in time.

“Do you think Liho will be okay?” you ask after a while, in a very small voice.

“Oh, да,” he replies, without hesitation. Even with his back to you as he tinkers busily you can hear the sincerity in his tone. “Yes, yes. Think of what that kitty has been through already, eh? When you found him he was doing worse than that. He is, uh, tough meat. A fighter.”

Seeing Alexi so placid and unshaken in the face of tonight’s events is strangely calming and you nod, soothed by his words, before another thought strikes you. “Oh… but the vet bills.”

Alexi lets out a low but not unkind laugh. “Ah, не будь глупым, you worry so much. We will figure those out. Melina is a sly fox, has money tucked away in hidey-holes, eh?”

“But— I mean —” You twitch uncomfortably, and Alexi seems to finally cotton onto what it is that you’re really worried about. He sets down his tools with his usual gentleness, which never fails to look foreign on such a giant of a man, and turns to look at you.

“You are member of this family,” he tells you. “No matter what Yelena say. She is angry, sure, but it will blow over, eh? You love the silly little fur man, and we do too. So if these bills will help him of course we will pay it. There is no need for worry.”

“But I ruined everything,” you say quietly.

He laughs again. “Nonsense. You have not ruined any of the things, голубка.”

“But… your date night. And— Natasha,” you hiccup.

“We have date nights all the time, подсолнух, there will be others. And Natasha… well, me and your mama are knowing this for long time. Yelena will be coming round also, eventually. We will figure this all out, we are a family. She is your sister. All of the things will be okay. None of them are ruined.”

And you can’t help but cry at that, at his earnest sincerity, his certainty that things will work out — and because you love him, and he is your family. You tell him so through choked sobs, and he just looks at you softly before wrapping you into a petrol-scented bear hug, prom outfit be damned.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe everything will be okay.

Yelena sinks into another episode over the following days. She does nothing much but sit, a vacant look in her eyes, devoid of any feeling, and stare for hours at a time as though seeing something that the rest of you cannot. She has no words left to give, and drifts around on autopilot, only performing basic functional tasks when prompted to — as if they’re an afterthought. Seeing her like this wracks you with guilt in a way none of her episodes have before, because for the first time you know with a crushing certainty that this is because of you. You offer countless times to return to your parents’ house across the road, the residents of which you haven’t conversed with in months, but Alexi and Melina dismiss this as if it’s the silliest idea in the world.

“You are family,” Melina tells you firmly. “Fights happen, да? You stay.”

Even if you’re still welcome in the house you’re certainly not welcome in your usual room. Natasha offers to put you up in hers but drops this very quickly after the look that you give her, so instead a section of the loft is cleared for you. You and Alexi spend a merry Sunday together in his workshop assembling a bedframe for your new space, only to discover once you’ve made it upstairs that it’s actually too large to fit through the attic hatch, so you have to take it to bits to get it up there and then rebuild it all over again. (It doesn’t really matter though, because Alexi is so bemused by the whole thing and his own oversights that it’s impossible to be frustrated at the setback. He just grins so goofily.) When Yelena is in the shower you sneak back into her room to gather as many of your belongings as you can and begin to turn the little space into yours. Melina brings home some fairy lights from the store, you order some posters online and within a week or so you’ve organised yourself a very cozy nest amongst the mess of the loft.

Even now you’ve moved in, over half of the room is still piled high with boxes of various things and piles of junk and the distinct, cloth-draped, dust-gathering shapes of Alexi’s abandoned projects (which he insists on keeping on the basis that he might need them someday, much to Melina’s theatrical chagrin). The various artefacts throughout the room create a kind of ever-changing maze, and you remember playing up here with Yelena when the two of you were kids and it was too cold to play outside — for you, anyway, being someone who’s grown up in a relatively warm American state. To this day Yelena often scorns you for your inability to tolerate any kind of cold, and reminds you of the climates the rest of the family has lived in.

Thinking of her makes your heart involuntarily twinge, and you wince, standing from your perch on the end of your new bed in the vain hopes of shaking it off. As you do so something in the opposite corner of the room catches your eye; the neat pile of scrapbooks Melina worked on for years when you were kids. “I’m going full American mama,” she would quip, spending hours of an evening painstakingly prettying the pages laden with pictures that Alexi had taken throughout the day. You find yourself warmed by these memories, and drift over to the pile of books, settling before it. The newest scrapbooks are naturally at the top, so you shuffle through the pile until you reach the very first scrapbook Mama Melina ever made, which begins the day Yelena came home. You settle down comfortably on the floor, cross-legged like you’re a kid again, and begin to flip through its pages; the very first are adorned with pictures of Melina and Alexi in their youth, and then on their wedding day. After that is the day Yelena came home, absolutely unfazed by this strange new country and its drawling people. Every single photo has the date it was taken written beneath it in perfect cursive, and through the timeline shown you can see that it was barely two weeks into Yelena’s residency here before you and her properly met, and became firm friends. Things progress like that for two years, from when you were five until when you were seven; regular entries are made in the scrapbooks documenting road trips and school plays and lost teeth, all of which you smile upon fondly.

Halfway through the third scrapbook, Natasha comes home. You recognise one of the many pictures documenting this milestone as one that hangs large and framed with pride downstairs above the fire; a stunned, still blue-haired Natalia swathed in thermals, huddled in the corner of Alexi’s rickety old fighter jet on the journey back from the motherland, beaming widely up at whoever’s taking the photo. Despite the fact that you see it every day, seeing it alongside so many others in which she’s so bewildered but so, so happy makes your heart feel so strongly that you have to flip ahead.

You pore over the pages of the main scrapbooks with interest for a while longer, until the main timeline ends and divulges into you, Yelena and Natasha each having your own dedicated scrapbooks. You have no interest in studying your own baby photos, and given all that’s going on reliving Yelena’s would be unbearable right now, so instead you find yourself picking up Natasha’s, and pushing the others aside.

Seeing her grow up before your eyes like this is surreal. In reality you were by her side every day, and most of these changes happen so gradually that you barely even noticed them, but here are immortalised stills from throughout the years which show how she’s grown. When she first came home she hadn’t had her growth spurt yet, and still had her gentle Russian lilt which the rest of her family retains to this day. As she starts attending public school and socialising with her peers you can see that something changes very hastily within her; a light kind of fades from her eyes. The blue is bleached from her hair, and as the red fades back in its place she seems to fade a little too — into the quiet, observant Natasha that you know today. She doesn’t seem unhappy, as such, but… uncertain, and it dredges up a kind of sadness in your chest that forces you to push the book away, lest the tears in your eyes follow through with their threat to overspill.

You’ve always seen Natasha as someone so secure and sure of herself — so much so that she doesn’t feel the need to speak over anyone else in the room in order to get her opinions across. When she does speak it’s usually a quick, cutting remark that earns laughs and leaves everyone eager to hear more out of her. When she walks into a room heads turn to look at her, no matter where she goes. She knows that. She’s someone worth paying attention to. It’s never occurred to you, not once in your life, that her behaviours aren’t the result of something different. But looking at these pictures has stirred up something in you which you can’t quite describe. A deep sadness at the fact that you’ve probably never known her at all, aside from the parts of the real her that have slipped through the cracks; her Russian accent and sleepy kisses first thing in the morning, her goodnight texts, the way she doesn’t need to ask your order at drive-thrus or coffee shops, the notes she’d leave under your pillow. That’s Natasha. Not whoever this is who’s pushed you away. Not this girl who has bleached the childhood from her hair and taught herself how to be from another place.

You pile the scrapbooks back in the neat and tidy order in which you found them and crawl back to your bed, flopping into it, utterly emotionally exhausted by this trip down memory lane. You think it’s dark outside… you’re certainly tired enough to rest now, anyway, and you do; drifting in and out of an uneasy slumber, visited by vague and twisted recollections from your childhood which disappear upon your waking again, before you can grasp them properly, like the sand of your youth slipping through your fingers.

Mama Melina is a woman of science. She’s always considered herself a grounded person. She doesn’t concern herself with what she doesn’t understand, or care for (namely whatever she cannot see for certain with her own two eyes) to the extent that this is the path her career has taken, and is now what feeds her children. She is, objectively, an intellectual woman. Her analytical methods of thinking have led to scientific breakthroughs in her area of expertise, and she is renowned as an expert at her job. She did not reach this point through belief in the spiritual, or abstract. Hell, being raised in an orphanage herself, she didn’t even really believe in true romantic love until Alexi bore his whole earnest heart to her.

One day, when you were young, you came home from school and, with frightening nonchalance, came home and asked if one of your classmates had been correct in saying that people who kissed others of the same gender were hell-headed sinners. Melina abruptly halted her mundane household task and sat you down, taking one of your hands in hers.

“Sin is a fairytale,” she told you, as delicately as she could. “Nobody knows for certain whether sin or God or heaven or hell are real. To believe that is a choice, a leap of faith which certain people make. But all we know for certain is what’s here now, да? Like I am real, you are real,” she cupped your little face between her warm hands and squeezed gently, making you wrinkle your nose and wriggle happily, “Baba and Yelena are real. But sin is thing you choose to believe in. It is made up stories to make us feel better about death but it does not matter, малыш. What matters is what we do now, when we are alive, not what we do to secure a place in an afterlife that might not exist, eh? We are kind to each other now while we live because we know it to be true that we’re alive. To tell someone else who to kiss was wrong and unkind of that boy at school. Worry about the afterlife once you get there, да? If you want to kiss girls, kiss girls. No one who is kind or worth your time will care.”

She kissed the top of your head before standing back up and returning to her cleaning. No more words were exchanged on the prospect, but from that day onward it has appeared to be common knowledge in the household that you like girls, and that Melina is not a fan of religion justifying bigotry.

In all honesty, she is not a fan of anything that’s not an irrefutable truth. Science is her preferred method of explanation for any problem that may occur. But as her relationship with Alexi has blossomed, and then in turn the ones she shares with her daughters too, she’s learned that facts and feelings do not have to be mutually exclusive. Some of the complexities of the human mind are far beyond her understanding, or indeed any of us — and yet this is a truth which ought to be embraced, not feared. The greatest joys in Melina’s life are its mysteries.

And so Mama Melina has never questioned the dynamic you and Natasha share; at least to her, it’s seemed crystal clear since day one that the two of you harbour affections for one another — admittedly for reasons beyond her comprehension, but it’s nonetheless undeniable to anyone who knows you like she does. She’s watched you grow all of your lives, delicately inching closer to one another like two flowers craning their necks to reach the sun. Melina long ago accepted she’ll never in this lifetime know what higher power reigns as a puppeteer over her, or understand the complexities of love, but she knows better than to pretend as if some things in this world aren’t inexplicably and cosmically connected. You and Natasha only prove this point. If she looks hard enough, Melina can see the red thread that runs from your body to her daughter’s.

Alexi, by far the romantic, wholeheartedly agrees with her, which only furthers Melina’s convictions (he would know better than her, she reasons) — although admittedly the events of the last few months have blindsided the both of them. Melina appears to be more concerned by it than her husband, though; so much so that one night she actually sits him down to ask if he even knows what’s going on, and why there’s this big gaping gulf between her daughters, tearing her family apart.

Alexi just guffaws, so full of mirth that Melina is startled. “Ah Боже мой, my love. Do not be silly, I would have to be blind to miss those daggers over dinner, no? No, do not worry, I’m understand. But love is not easy, ah? Its course has never run so smooth. Remember when I first asked out you? You were so… skittish, like little kitten, for weeks,” he recalls with shining eyes. “And look where we ended up now, ah? These are silly babies. They’ll make mistakes. They need the time that you did.”

His words soothe her, in the way that they always do. She relaxes into his comforting embrace with the knowledge that even if she’s the intellectual (and financial) breadwinner in this relationship, Alexi always knows what to say in the face of the heart’s unpredictability. Maybe he is right. Maybe everyone just needs some time.

So, despite her doubts, time is what Melina gives.

Two weeks after that conversation, Liho comes home. His fur is patchy where it’s been shorn off and started to grow back again, and one of his legs is still bound tightly, but he’s back and he’s yours. He leaps happily into your arms when he sees you (despite the yelp of alarm Melina makes) and it’s like he never left. Yelena comes the closest to you that she’s been in weeks to pet his head while he’s curled up against your chest, and she even allows a smile to escape. You can’t help but smile back, like the beginning of spring after a long harsh winter, hope blossoming in your chest once again.

In the time that it’s taken him to come home, other things have happened too. Natasha’s nose, displaced by the punch Yelena successfully laid on her, heals quickly. Your relationship does not. Something unspoken festers between the two of you, hardening and shrinking and blackening into a sickening nothingness. You can’t look at her now without the taste of something bitter filling your mouth — and yet that boiling hot liquid rage still fills your chest when you think of her with someone else. How is it possible to love someone so much but hate them at the same time? You wish, more than anything, that none of this happened. You wish she would just let you love her without having to ruin it for the both of you.

It’s such an indescribably lonely feeling that the two of you are like this now, when only a short time ago the two of you bore open hearts to one another — well, you gave yours to Natasha, anyway. The more you think about it the less of her you have ever known. She’s a stranger to you. Quite a few times since prom night she’s tried to speak to you — offering another half-assed apology, no doubt — but you’ve only ever shut her down. What is there left to say? Nothing that you want to hear, for sure.

(And maybe the things that still hang heavy in the air between you are better left unsaid.)

A few days after Liho comes home you’re laid on your bed in the attic, with your baby boy himself curled comfortably on your chest, purring away merrily as you scratch at his head. There’s some soft music on in the background but neither of you are really doing much. You’re just trying to enjoy his company, (and he’s evidently enjoying yours,) now that you know not to take it for granted.

The scare you’ve had with him has shifted your perspective on a lot, actually — it’s been a rude but much-needed wake up call. Yelena, just like Liho, is your family, and you want to make up with her. Who knows how long either of you have left, or what might happen?

Yes, you absolutely want to be her sister again. You’re just not sure where to even start.

The knock that comes at your door is unexpected, though, and only more unexpected when you see who your mystery visitor actually is. Yelena stands in your doorway, eyes fixed on Liho on your chest. He mews happily when he sees her.

“Кот,” she says hoarsely, holding out her arms and making grabby hands. You blink, stunned for a moment at the fact that she is talking at all, let alone talking to you. This would usually be a good sign, one that she’s coming back into herself, but these naturally are unprecedented circumstances, and you can’t really be certain what anything means anymore.

Yelena steps forward, jerking you out of your trance; you shoot to your feet and kiss Liho on the forehead before holding him out to her with your hands beneath his armpits so that his legs dangle underneath him, rendering him comically long and thin. Lena scoops him up and curls him against her chest; he purrs contentedly and her eyes crinkle in quiet gratitude before she leaves, humming her song to herself.

You almost call out to her, but your body freezes. The door closes behind her you scold yourself for not reaching out, for trying to close this rift between you, but maybe you’ve not given her long enough yet.

What Yelena needs is time, you know. Her whole world has been turned upside down and she has to rebuild it piece by piece. But how much time is enough?

Well, as it turns out, you won’t have to wait much longer.

It’s the last week of school, just over five weeks now since your catastrophic prom night, and you’ve just walked out of your last final. Sam Wilson is waiting for you outside the doors with your favourite flavour of popsicle in his hand, and is already busily consuming his own. When he spots you he waves a broad hand merrily, and you make your way over to him.

“I’m sure you aced it, squirt,” he says before you can even open your mouth, and offers you the popsicle. Unfortunately you’re all too familiar to Ohio’s stifling summer air, making every thought or movement damp and groggy. You accept it gratefully.

Your core friendship group, which you’ve been in for years now, has been pretty turbulent since things went down between you and Yelena. Pairing that with finals and early graduations, you can feel a permanent shift occurring, and it’s frightening. Everyone’s still making  effort to maintain contact with you, but this change on top of everything else has you feeling like you’re drowning when you think too long about it.  It seems like you never know what are the golden days until they’re gone. (You got twelve golden years with Yelena, but is that where it ends? Will she ever tolerate your presence in her life again?)

Someone who you couldn’t be more grateful for throughout all of this is Sam. One day not long after everything happened you came to him crying, and confessed everything. He patted your back with an aura of awkward concern until your sobs subsided, at which point all he had to offer was, “Huh. Well, I guess that explains why prom night went to shit.”

You can’t help but admire the way that he takes everything in his stride. Nothing fazes him. It’s welcome after spending so long around Natasha, who’s constantly on edge, worried someone else might see her with you. Sam is so unbothered, just being in his presence is calming. He’s become a good and valued friend to you.

“That was your last final,” he reminds you, bringing you back to the present moment. “You’re free now for the whole summer.”

“Oh fuck yeah, man,” you say as the realisation dawns on you.

“How’d you want to celebrate?”

You look up at him and a toothy grin takes root on his face as he realises what you’re about to say.

“Arcade,” you say and he nods fervently in agreement. In recent times you’ve become its most loyal patrons; you retreat there often after classes, whether it’s to recuperate from a bad day or celebrate a good one. Today, thankfully, appears to be the latter.

“Arcade,” he repeats happily, and the two of you amble off out of the school gates and down the hill toward the centre of town, where the Boulevard housing the arcade is located. You chat happily for a little while, about your plans for the summer and what you might do together.

“And, uh… any updates on your… anything?” he asks delicately. It’s a vague question but of course you know what he means.

“Not really.” You deflate a little. “I’m not sure Lena wants me around anymore, to be honest.”

“I’m sure she does,” Sam consoles with a startling certainty. “Seriously. What about Natasha?”

You just shake your head. “I don’t want to… I can’t. Not until Lena…”

“Gives you the okay,” he nods understandingly.

“Yeah, I guess. But until she’s sorry, too. She was really mean,” you say quietly.

“Yeah, I get that. It’ll be okay, man.”

You’re not so sure about that, but before you can express this you cross the road and the two of you have reached the arcade, where your troubles are promptly forgotten.

Sam’s words are very quickly proven correct, though — within only a few hours. You arrive home from your arcade trip with some silly winnings tucked under your arm and a smile on your face. It is Friday night, date night for Melina and Alexi, so a car is missing from the driveway and the kitchen is empty as you enter.

Perfect, you think to yourself, and begin to fix yourself some food. These days you’re very careful not to venture into the communal areas of the house unless you’re sure you won’t be treading on anyone else’s toes. You kind of feel like a burden as it is — you’re not a proper part of this family anyway, not in the way that everyone else is — and you don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable in their own home. So you’ve moved bedrooms and now you meticulously strategise what times you’ll make an expedition down to the kitchen. (Sometimes, when you’ve not had a chance to eat yet, you’ll open your bedroom door to a plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of you. Everyone in the house denies knowledge when asked but you have your suspicions of who’s behind it.)

Sometimes you think about moving back to the place where you were born, but you’re not sure if you could stomach that. That feels like a forever choice. There’s no going back from that.

Liho pads up to you, excited that you’re home and even more excited that you’re making food. Unable to help yourself, you indulge him with some chin scratches and scraps. Life’s too short, you say. Why shouldn’t you make a fuss of your boy?

He winds himself around your legs contentedly while you cook. It is just you and him and school has finished and you have the whole summer to do what you want, and you are cooking, and for the first time in a while you are able to shut off and experience a moment of complete peace.

Naturally, with the trajectory of your life at the minute, this peace does not last long.

“Is Sam Wilson your new best friend?” says a cool voice behind you. You actually yelp in alarm, and very ungracefully fumble with the piping hot utensils you’re using, burning your hand in the process. Liho hisses, and you do too, making a beeline for the sink.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that,” you mutter half-heartedly. Yelena, now moving to stand fully in the light, just makes a noise in the back of her throat as she opens the cupboard above your head and reaches for the first-aid kit. Her face is carefully unbothered.

“I only asked a question,” she says, moving your food off of the heat. Liho claws at your ankles worriedly. You struggle to process Yelena’s words, much less the fact that she is talking to you. Did you blink and miss a chapter?

“Uh,” you rub at the back of your neck with your hand not under running water, “n-no. No, he’s not my new best friend. I don’t,” your voice drops, and you look away, “I don’t think I have one anymore.”

“You do,” she informs you matter-of-factly, hopping up onto the counter beside you and swinging her legs while you continue to bathe your hand. “If you still want one. But she is very mad at you.”

Your voice catches in your throat.

“She does love you,” Lena continues, “but she is wondering why you did things in the way you did.”

There’s a moment of quiet. You gather your thoughts. You weren’t expecting to have this talk tonight.

“I was scared,” you tell her.

“Of what?”

“Of,” you gesture between the two of you, “this. Of making things bad. I always figured it would be like a,” you tilt your head back to keep from crying, because now would be a stupid time to cry, “a stupid schoolgirl crush, you know? She never even spoke to me, I was just her little sister’s dumb best friend, but then things happened and it was so fast and I was so scared. And I wanted to tell you but she… didn’t. She only wanted me when no one else could see. I guess I hoped that she would — come around, eventually, and then I wouldn’t be lying anymore.” You’re heaving with the effort to not cry. “I was wrong.”

“All this time the mystery girl was treating you like shit, you could have told me who it was,” Yelena implores. “I love my sister but she makes me sad also. She can be a dick, absolutely. She’s the worst. Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“She’s your family,” you choke. “I couldn’t cause a— a rift or a problem like that. And what if you believed her over me? And it kept getting worse, and —”

“Сестра,” she leans over, cupping your damp face between her hands and forcing you to look at her, “I would always believe you. Always. Never before have you given reason to not.”

You nod tearfully, and she lets go. The only noise is the running water for a few moments.

“That is probably long enough under tap,” Lena murmurs, turning it off and taking your injured hand in her lap. Opening the first aid kit, she begins to dress the burn. “I am sorry for making you jump.”

“I am sorry for everything else,” you reply honestly. “I was stupid.”

“Yes,” she agrees bluntly. Then, “Natalia was stupider.” When you look up in open surprise, she rolls her eyes. “Close your mouth, you will catch flies. Of course she was stupid, she has fumbled so hard. You,” she pinches your cheek affectionately, “are a catch. I am not even into all of this, but if I was a dater we would be together and I would treat you like four million times better than she does.”

“You already do,” you say quietly, looking down at your hand in her lap as she continues to bandage it.

“Oh absolutely, I am the best.”

Another, much longer, pause. She finishes wrapping your hand, and pats it three times to notify you that she’s done, the exact same way that Mama Melina does. The action makes your heart swell and eyes fill with unexpected tears.

“Do you know why I was so upset by all of it?” she asks unexpectedly. You blink in surprise. This feels like a trick question.

“Because… I lied?”

“Because you picked Natasha over me,” she tells you.

“No I didn’t— what?”

“Yes, you did,” she says, and she’s a little choked all of a sudden. “All of my life Natasha has been the one who everyone looks at first. She is the special one. You are the only one I had first, who was mine. My близнец. And then I find out that for months you have been lying and picking her over me instead. When she is mean, she is so mean sometimes, yes I love her but she is not much like when we were kids anymore, she is so mean. But everyone likes her more than me. Even you.” She turns away.

“No, no I don’t,” you rush to her side, unable to help it now, scooping her close to you. “No I don’t. I was wrong, and I’m sorry. It was stupid to think she’d ever love me, I shouldn’t have— and I shouldn’t have left you out of it. I think I was trying to protect you? I don’t know. You’re always the one to protect me and punch everyone else, I think I was trying to stop you from getting hurt. And her? But it was dumb. Very dumb.”

“Very, very dumb,” Yelena agrees.

“The dumbest.”

“You have broken world record, кролик.”

You laugh a little tearfully, and while Yelena’s arms are wrapped around you she feels it throughout her body. She revels in the feeling of you holding her and loving her again, after the longest time.

“So we are back from the store?” she asks hopefully after a moment. It takes you a moment to process what she means.

“Oh,” you laugh, “we were never there. You will always be my favourite person, Yelena Belova-Shostakov.”

“Okay.” She exhales in relief. “Good. Just, because — well, you know, we have not spoke in so long and you didn’t think you had a best friend, and—”

“No— what? No,” you frown, “that was me giving you space to process and heal. I wasn’t sure you’d want me back,” you laugh. “I wasn’t ignoring you. I promise.”

“I will always want you back,” she says in a small, content voice. “I will always want you home. With me. Not at store.”

“Not at the store,” you repeat.

And just like that, you have your best friend again.

One familial bond repaired doesn’t mean all of them, though — and Yelena’s relationship with her sister has been patchy recently, to put it mildly. In your eyes it’s a plus that they haven’t outright fistfought in the way that they absolutely would if they were any younger, but Mama Melina doesn’t seem to see things that way.

A few days after you and Yelena make up, the two of you along with your parents are sat around the dinner table. At the very least Melina is able to fuss over her twins again, and Alexi is able to once again boom “here comes trouble” whenever the two of you enter a room together. They both take great pleasure in it,  much to Yelena’s entertainment and your endearment. You love your parents.

The conversation halts when the front door slams, though. Natasha appears in the kitchen doorway for a second before processing the scene in front of her and slowly backing away, back out of sight.

“What is this about?” Alexi calls after her through a mouthful of food. “Come eat, love.”

There is no response, only footsteps on the stairs.

“Our daughters hate each other,” Melina sighs heavily. When you and Yelena look up at her, she clarifies, “no, not you two. You and Natasha.” She pinches Lena’s cheek.

“We do not hate each other,” Yelena says placidly, much to everyone’s surprise. “I am just angry at her. We will be fine.”

Natasha, who is still within earshot at the top of the stairs, feels her heart skip a beat at this and thinks to herself that just maybe Yelena is ready to be receptive to her attempts at reconnection. Her only issue is she has no idea how to facilitate it. She’s done all the things she can think of, aside from straight up cornering her younger sister — she leaves offerings of food at her door and texts  her when the Kardashians are on the TV — but all of it has been treated with nonchalance that’s left her bewildered as to what her next step should be.

Yelena’s got her covered, though.

It’s her turn to strike, she knows, and again she chooses to do it when her sister will least expect it. Nat traipses home late one night, exhausted from cheer practice that overran. (Their next game is the last of the season, and her last cheer match ever considering she’s graduating this summer, so this semester’s team captain Sharon is determined they go out with a bang — even if that bang is a cheerleader toppling from the pyramid out of sheer exhaustion.) She mumbles her greetings and goodnights to Melina and Alexi, who are huddled around a decanter of whiskey in the study with Liho, and stumbles upstairs. All the lights are off up here, and she figures you and Yelena are probably settling down for the night. With a long, wistful look up the spiral staircase towards your firmly closed door, she trudges into her own (pitch-black) room. When she flicks on the light, though, she shrieks in horror. Sat expectantly at the foot of her bed is a long-limbed and blonde-headed figure, with hands folded neatly in its lap.

“Good evening, сестра,” greets the figure, sometimes known as Yelena Belova, with vaguely ominous nonchalance.

Natasha leans back against the door and closes her eyes in a desperate attempt to revert her heart rate to normal. Her first instinct as an older sister is to yell at her to get the fuck out, but in light of recent events this probably wouldn’t be the wisest of choices. Instead, she clamps her mouth tightly shut as she attempts to regain herself.

“I don’t,” she pants after a moment, “I haven’t— what? Hi. What?”

“You should really get a better lock,” Yelena says amusedly. “Very easy to pick.”

“You don’t have to break in,” Natasha grumbles, letting her bag slide to the floor and flopping backwards onto the bed. “Just knock.”

“No fun.” Yelena pokes Nat’s thigh with her toe just like she would when they were kids and for a moment they’re both young again. But she blinks, and the moment is gone, and now they’re two almost-adults with an entire universe between them.

Natasha just groans and flops back to stare up at her ceiling. A few years back you and Yelena helped her paint it blue and now it looks like the sky. It makes her smile when she’s sad sometimes. Yelena joins her, and the two cloudgaze for a moment.

“Why are you in my room?” Natasha asks quietly.

“To annoy you,” Lena quips.

“Success.”

“And to talk,” she continues.

“Also success. We are talking.”

The blonde lunges for her, and Natasha rolls away playfully. “No, I’m serious. Real talking.”

“Alright, I’m all ears.” Nat puts her hands behind her ears and pushes them forward to emphasise her point — again, like they would when they were kids.

“I want to know what you were intending when you started dating Y/N,” Yelena says, and Nat’s stomach drops. She knew this was coming, she knew this was where the conversation would lead, but she was still hoping to stall it for as long as possible just for the joy that her sister is talking to her again. The excitement is short-lived, though.

“We were never dating,” she reminds her quietly.

“Why not?”

The bluntness of the question makes Natasha stop short.

“Because it just, didn’t work out like that, I guess,” she tries. Yelena remains eerily stony.

“It’s not nice to lie to your baby sister, Natalia.”

Natasha deflates. “Because w— because I’m a fucking idiot. I don’t know what you want me to say. I know I messed up.”

“Step one is awareness,” Yelena nods sagely, while Nat grits her teeth. “So what are you going to do about it?”

She shrugs. “Graduate, and leave town, I guess. You and Y/N are twins again now, and I caused all these problems, so once I leave things should be fixed.”

“Untrue and false,” the blonde interrupts sharply. “That is lie. Y/N/N is crushed. This will not magically be fix if you take off for college.”

“But it will help,” Natasha insists.

“No it won’t,” Yelena pinches the bridge of her nose in frustration, “oh my god, how are you so stupid. She is in love with you, and she is so patient with you, she is not even angry. Which I would be, by the way, but she’s not. She’s only sure you don’t want her.”

“Huh? But I do.”

“No, like wanting her,” Yelena says gently. “As a whole. Like… unity, ah? Влюбленный. She feels so not good enough for you, and every day you are prove her right. You take only what you want from her and leave the rest. That is not what love is. She feels not loved by you, and that you only like her for the things she can offer you.”

“Oh. But I didn’t mean to,” Natasha says tearfully. Suddenly she is very small, and she draws her knees up to her chest. “I was only… Lena, маленький, I didn’t know what to do.”

“The answer seems pretty simple,” the blonde observes astutely, “all you had to do was either tell her you love her and want to be with her, or tell her it is over. You can’t keep having things in your way forever. She has feelings too, and the relationship cannot be on just your terms. She is not a doll, or toy.”

“I do,” she says hoarsely. “I do, t- the first one. It’s- I do. But I’m so…” She raises a pale trembling palm to run a hand through her hair, inhaling shakily, and with a blink of surprise Yelena realised how scared her older sister truly is.

“What is so terrifying?” she asks tenderly.

“Y/N is a girl.”

Yelena almost laughs at the confession but is able to refrain, and is proud of her capability to do so upon seeing just how agitated her company is over the subject. “Is this all that holds you back? Nobody would care. Ma and Daddy wouldn’t. This is not end of the world.”

“No, you don’t get it,” says Natasha fiercely. “Ever since I came to America... you were here first, you and Y/N, and you just get to be you. You have who you are. But I don’t know who I am, so I have to — do all the American girl things. I have to fit in. I don’t have a Y/N. And American girls don’t kiss girls.”

Yelena stops to consider this. It’s true that Natasha has always put far, far more effort into fitting in and Westernising herself more than she or their parents ever did. Yelena is perfectly content with her slightly broken English and her raspy accent and her life of in-betweenness. She’s okay with being from two places. To her, when she looks in the mirror, that is Yelena Belova. They’re just parts of who she is. She’s never even stopped to consider those as potential insecurities — not when she had other things and feelings (or lack thereof) to worry about. How could something so unchangeable be a source of doubt? And yet here she now sits, struggling to wrap her head around this invisible binary which has suffocated her sister for so many years.

“But you are not… what?” she says confusedly. “You did have a Y/N. All of this… you’re being someone else. I knew something felt strange. I do not understand why? I like who you are before. It wasn’t bad. I like Natalia.”

This seems to break Nat, who buries her face in her hands. Yelena lets out a motherly cluck of sympathy and scoots closer to loop a gangly arm around her sister.

“I just want to be normal,” breathes Natasha.

“But it is not worth all this,” Yelena says, squeezing her sister tightly to her chest. “What does normal even mean? Being cool is not the most important, Natalia. Everybody liking you doesn’t… fix you not liking yourself.” She cringes at her own words, reminding herself a little too much of Darcy’s Pinterest feed, but the words seem to ring true with Nat, at least.

“I am just so scared,” Nat says in a small voice. “And I think I’ve made this so bad it can’t be fixed.”

Yelena pulls away to look her sternly in the eyes. “Things can always be fixed. Maybe not in ideal way you want them to be, but we can always make amends. But you have to be sorry.”

“I am,” Natasha cries, “I am sorry.”

Yelena holds her. “I know.”

She’s not so sure you know it, though.

Maybe somewhere deep down, you do. You see it in the saddened smiles Nat offers you whenever she steps out of your way or leaves a room so you can use it. You see it in the way she brings your favourite snacks home and leaves them in the pantry without word or question, like she doesn’t even expect you to notice. You see it even in the absence of her; in the way that she gives you space, quietly leaving rooms when you enter them so you can use them despite the fact that you can feel in the air how much she wants to stop and talk to you. Sure, you can tell that she’s sorry. But you’re not sure that she knows what she’s sorry for.

You’re not sure she knows how badly she’s really hurt you, with her every move stabbing into you repeatedly over a course of months. Now that the knife is turned on her and she’s the one in exile, a selfish part of you wants to leave her there, just so she knows what it’s like. You guess that’s kind of what you’re doing now. You know this can’t go on forever though. In a couple of months Natasha leaves for out-of-state college, which she announced over dinner a few nights ago. You had to excuse yourself from the table to process that information. Your time is limited, you know, and it’s clear what Natasha wants (to kiss and make up) — but what do you want? To leave this wound untreated, festering for the next eternity? Or to allow yourself peace and let this go?

“Why do I have to be the bigger person?” you half-heartedly complain to Yelena one night as the two of you wash the dishes. “It’s not fair.”

“Because you are the bigger person,” Yelena laughs. “Natalia has given you the control. The next move is on you. That’s just the way it is, if it’s fair or no.” She whips you playfully with her tea towel, and the conversation moves on without further incident.

The issue plays on your mind long after the words are spoken, though. Whether you like it or not, Yelena is right. The next move’s on you. But how are you meant to make that call? What is the right move to make?

Well, one of Natasha’s friends appears very opinionated on the subject. 

On a particularly warm afternoon, you and Yelena stroll into town, and stop off at May Parker’s ice cream parlour — the best in town.

“Ah,” Yelena grimaces, as you draw close to its glass windows, “it is so busy in there. I go in, you wait out here?” 

You smile at her gratefully, and she disappears inside. 

“Y/L/N!” a voice calls out behind you, and you turn around to see Bucky Barnes making a beeline for you. He’s about twice your size in every way imaginable, and you gulp. 

“Hi?” you say uncertainly. You don’t think you’ve ever spoken to him in your life.

“What’s up with you and Romanov?” Well, he’s straight to the point. 

You flounder, mouth opening and shutting, and he’s gracious enough to continue, “look, I know you and her are a thing. Were. I don’t know, she’s being so weird about it. It’s okay, it’s okay, I was her beard. And she was mine,” he adds, gesturing over at Steve Rogers, who’s stood on the other side of the road waiting patiently for his boyfriend. He smiles and waves amiably on cue. 

You blink. “And no one thought to inform me?” 

He shrugs. “Not my place. I think it is my place, though, to ask what’s got her so torn up. You and her fallen out? I’ve never seen her like this. I’on know what to do.”

He may not mean it menacingly, but he’s towering over you and you’re finding it hard to breathe. “She was an asshole, dude,” you say, perhaps a little more defensively than you envisioned. “She wasn’t nice to me and we weren’t even together, because she didn’t see me like that. So yeah, I guess we fell out.”

He frowns, deeply, and takes a moment to process this. “Oh. That… but she does feel that way about you.”

“It’d be nice if she’d show it,” you say bitterly. 

His face softens. “Maybe… Look, even if the two of you don’t work it out proper, wouldn’t it be easier to at least clear the air? She likes you so much. She just wants you in her life, I think.”

You look at him uncertainly for a moment, but he holds your gaze earnestly. You know him and Natasha are relatively close, and you don’t see why he’d lie about something like this. It’s definitely tempting to believe.

“Okay,” you say, “I’ll bear that in mind.”

He looks like he’s about to say something else, but you feel a hand on your shoulder and instantly recognise Yelena’s presence just behind you. “What is going on?”

“Just talking,” says Bucky smoothly, but it seems apparent that the moment is over. “See you around, kid.” He crosses the road back to Steve.

“Kid,” you mutter, “he’s one grade older than me.” 

“What did he want?” Yelena asks you, and you relay your strange interaction to her. “Oh. Well, he is probably right, but I’m not sure how much it means coming from Natasha’s ex.”

“Were they really together?” you ask, your stomach turning at the thought. Wouldn’t that co-occur with your and her relationship? “He said he was her beard.”

She shrugs. “Not my expertise. Come on, the ice cream will melt.”

You don’t see Bucky Barnes again for the weeks that follow, although you can’t help but wonder what he meant, and what he was trying to achieve. (And a little part inside of you thinks that maybe he could be right.)

“Ma?” says Natasha suddenly. “How did you know you loved Alexi?”

It’s late at night, and the two of them are on the car ride home from Nat’s last cheer game of the season. (At her request it was not a family affair, despite Alexi’s insistence that it was his right to make a fuss of his talented daughter’s performance at her last high school cheer game.) The roads are empty and the towns are sleepy, but Natasha’s question has Melina wide awake.

“Eeh… it was not like a revelation. I did not wake up one day with new clarity. It came to me over time. It took me long time to accept, though. Your father is very patient man.”

“But was there anything specific?” Natasha persists.

Melina purses her lips in thought. “Well, when I met him I was not trusting person. One time when we were in the kind of in between bit right before being proper couple, ah —”

“The talking stage,” Nat supplies helpfully.

“— yes, да. We were in that, nothing proper but something, and he went to touch me and I had a… panic? I shut down. Achh, моя любовь, I was still figuring out who I was and what I did and didn’t like and… still growing up and healing from when I was kid. I was scared.”

Natasha nods solemnly. There are some childhood experiences which, despite unspoken, bind she and her mother at the soul.

“So I freak out, and I expected him to… belittle or leave, or something. But he stays and he is so patient, he apologise for making me jump and fetch me tea, and I thought like wow, he is so gentle. And he is not like the other men I known.”

Again, Natasha nods. Gentle is the perfect descriptor for her father. He’s the most wonderful man she’s ever met.

“So we spent more time together, he was patient with me and always caring. That was the time that I knew I would fall in love with him. But I’m not really know when it happened. Maybe by then it already had, ah? I have only ever had eyes for him. He make me feel… valued, and worthy.”

Natasha just hums in response, for she’s suddenly and embarrassingly on the verge of violent sobbing. She blames Ma and Baba and their beautiful relationship. Nothing else.

“Is this about Y/N?” Melina asks quietly. Natasha opens her mouth to reply and there it is, just as she feared, the waterworks are unleashed. Ma sighs heavily and pulls over.

“Идите сюда,” she says, holding her arms out, and Natasha crawls into them. She rocks her daughter back and forth, exactly how she used to so many years ago when the girl was half this size, while Nat’s face is buried in her mother’s neck. They stay like that for a while, until Natasha’s tears begin to die down.

“Do you want to go and get milkshakes?” Melina breaks the silence. Natasha hums her assent.

The 24-hour diner isn’t far from where they’ve pulled over, and it’s almost empty at this time of night. With no words exchanged Melina orders Natasha’s usual, or what was her usual when she was a kid — a strawberry milkshake and fries. A young Natasha decided strawberry was her favourite as soon as she found out that pink was a girl’s colour. Thinking about that now, especially with the hindsight of her conversation with Yelena, has her stomach turning a little. How long has she been letting her view of the world colour every single choice that she makes? Which parts of her are really her, and which are the ones she’s willed into existence?

It’s a scary line of questioning, and Natasha can feel herself beginning to spiral. No more, she tells herself. Yelena was probably right about needing to get to know herself — and learning her real favourite flavour of milkshake seems a manageable starting point.

“Can I have the caramel one?” she asks Melina gruffly, pointing at the menu. Her mama just nods and alters their order accordingly.

They sit at their usual booth and eat in a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the occasional “pass the ketchup”s. Once they’ve finished, though, and Melina can sense her daughter has calmed enough to leave, she turns and says to her, “Love isn’t easy thing to admit. But it’s… not something to be ashamed of. When it comes, just let it happen. It’s scary, but it does not make you weaker, ah? It will do you no good to push it away.” She hesitates, but then seems satisfied with what she’s said. She turns on her heel and heads back out to the car. Natasha, dumbfounded, follows her.

When they finally make it home, Alexi is snoring away upstairs and you’re on the sofa with Yelena sprawled on top of you, fast asleep. You’re wide awake, though, and look up as the two of them come in.

“Night, ma,” Natasha murmurs to her mother, kissing her cheek before tiptoeing off to bed. Melina hums at the action and pads into the living room toward her twins.

“Hi ma,” you chirp, voice a little husky. “Everything okay?”

Your mama nods, and holds out a brown paper bag. “We stopped at diner. Got your favourite. Some for Lena too.”

Your eyes crinkle up into half-moons as you smile at her in gratitude, and Melina smiles back fondly, her chest filling with warmth. “Thank you.”

She kisses Yelena’s forehead, who does not stir, and then yours, lingering for a moment.

“I love you,” she tells you sincerely, and a fierceness glimmers in her gaze that you’re not quite sure what to do with. “We all do.”

“I love you too,” you tell her honestly. You only hope you’re matching her intensity. She holds your gaze for a moment longer as if searching for something within it,  then nods, seemingly satisfied, and retreats upstairs to join Alexi, leaving you alone with a meal to demolish, a slumbering blonde pinning you to the sofa and many, many thoughts.

A few days after that conversation, you wander into the backyard (Melina’s carefully pruned pride and joy) to pet Liho, who’s basking peacefully in the summer evening sun.

“Careful of the flowerbed,” you warn as he flexes his claws and kicks his legs happily. “Someone will suffer if Ma’s roses are ruined.”

He huffs in what could be agreement, and you toe absently at the sandy dirt you and Yelena used to play in.

A gentle creaking sounds from somewhere nearby. It’s a noise that makes you feel ten years younger, and curiously, you rise to your feet.

At the far end of the backyard, nestled among the pines and pratia, is the swing set Alexi built a little while after Yelena first moved in. It’s a little haggard-looking, as when Natasha came to America Alexi bodged a third swing so all of you could play together, but to his credit it’s still held up all these years. Sure, it doesn’t get so much use anymore, but sometimes when one of you is feeling a little down you’ll revisit the simpler times of your childhood.

This seems to be what you’ve stumbled upon Natasha doing now. She’s sat on the middle swing (which in times gone by was your swing, as the middle spot often was when you were a kid, so both siblings got to be next to you), rocking back and forth gently as she cradles something small in her hands, turning it over. She’s lost in thought. Wondering if you’ve intruded on something private, you begin to slowly pace away. When you catch sight of what it is in her hands, though, your stomach turns; a small and glistening pink rock, rubbed smooth by years of love.

“You kept that?” you ask quietly. Natasha’s head shoots up and she takes note of your appearance in the same way that a deer takes note of rapidly approaching headlights. Her mouth opens as she fumbles for words, but she just settles for nodding vigorously before lowering her gaze to her lap again.

You don’t really know what to think, or do. You hesitate for a moment, and find yourself thinking of Bucky’s advice — wouldn’t it be easier to clear the air? This tension is suffocating. With this on your mind, you seem to surprise Natasha as much as yourself when your feet march you over to the swing on your left, and your knees bend to seat you. Her entire body tenses as yours nears her. You can tell that, since you’ve gone to great lengths to escape her company recently, this is the last thing she expected. (In all honesty you weren’t really expecting this either. What now?)

“You know that I’m in love with you, right?” Natasha says suddenly, and you freeze. Your chest tightens, and it’s like she’s wrapped herself around it, claiming your breath as her own.

“That’s not funny,” you reply in a small voice. “Don’t— don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Play with me like that.”

Her stomach lurches. “I’m being serious.”

You’re quiet for a moment. “Were you and Bucky ever actually together?”

“What?”

“Bucky Barnes. Were you with him when you were with me, too?” 

“N- no,” she says with vehement certainty. “I was — well, I guess it doesn’t really matter now, but when him and Steve were a secret I was his cover story. And I guess he was mine, so that I could… yeah.” She gestures towards you, pressing her lips together. 

“But even after they came out I was still a secret.”

“I—” Natasha says, and buries her face in her hands for a moment, because this is not how she hoped this would go. “Yes. And that was wrong of me. I’m sorry. I think I was trying to protect you, and me, and you from me because I know how messy I can be, and I wanted you so bad but I didn’t want to drag you down with me. And I still did anyway.” She sighs heavily.

“That’s an interesting way of showing affection,” you quip. 

“I know,” she says quietly. “And I’m sorry. I know I haven’t shown it well — at all — and I don’t really blame you for not believing me. Or, uh, hating me.”

“I don’t hate you,” you say softly.

Her shoulders sag. “Oh. W— well that’s good, then.”

“But I wish I did,” you add.

“No, yeah. That’s fair.”

“You’re really mean.”

Natasha just nods.

“And it’s even worse because I can’t even hate you because you can also be really nice.”

She nods again uncertainly. She’s not really sure how to respond to that.

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why are you so mean sometimes?”

This makes her stop up short. The way that both you and Yelena never fail to cut to the chase or ask the questions that nobody else would will always catch her off guard. “It’s kind of just who I am,” she begins, but at the way your face scrunches she adds, “or who I’ve decided to be, anyway. I don’t really know. I’m not sure… who I am.” Even uttering the statement aloud is a weight lifted from her shoulders. “It’s scary. I guess I… I thought that, like, I have to be the mean one, or someone else will first. To me. You know?”

“Why would anyone be mean to you?”

“Because I like girls,” she says truthfully, and there’s a tremor to her voice.. “And I’m not from here.”

You stare at her. “…? I like girls, and Yelena isn’t from here. No one is mean to us for it.”

“Because Yelena can and will beat the shit out of anyone that tries something,” Nat snorts. “But I just… I don’t know. It’s different for me.” You nod encouragingly and she adds with reluctance, “I don’t— belong here, not really. Or anywhere. I’m too American to be Russian and too Russian to be American. Ma and Baba and Yelena have it figured out, they’re just both and themselves and they don’t even have to think about it. But that’s not so easy for me.”

“Maybe,” you say carefully, “it’s to do with the people you choose to surround yourselves with. Is it possible that you’re… spending time with the wrong people? If you’re made to feel as though these things make you lesser.”

She shrugs. “Probably. But that doesn’t change the fact that I just… I really don’t have a lot going for me. So I kinda pretend that I do, and then it gets out of hand and I’ve convinced myself that I’m a lot more interesting than I am, to the point that I don’t know who me is. And I get all freaked out. And I’m so scared I kind of just shut off and try not to think, so I guess I’m just an asshole instead. Like it’s a reflex, you know? But it’s not really me. Nothing is me. My entire life is one perpetual identity crisis.” She drops her gaze to toe at the ground.

Your swing comes to a still as you clasp one of her hands between both of yours. They’re warm and perfectly manicured, and her eyes light up at the contact. “You don’t have to know who you are. You just have to exist, and you find out. I’m learning things about myself all the time, and so is Lena. This was my first relationship —” Nat’s stomach drops at the use of the word was “— and I’ve learnt a lot about myself and how I like to be treated. And Lena only came to terms with being aroace this year. Even Ma only just decided she’s demi,” you point out, and Nat can’t help but smile at this. (A little while ago, after Yelena first came out, you and Melina began joining her in attending weekly meetings at the local youth centre for young queer people and their parents. Your mama was determined to be a more educated advocate for her three queer daughters. Very recently, with all this new terminology at her disposal, she dropped into a dinnertime conversation in the presence of the whole family that she thinks she’s demi. “Not that it matters,” she added, “the only one for me is your father,” and she kissed his beaming crinkly cheek with a motherly tenderness. It was a beautiful moment to witness, despite Yelena’s playful booing.)

“I guess,” she says quietly. “Um, I’ve been talking to someone. Professional,” she adds at the look on your face. “Yelena said some stuff that made me realise I probably shouldn’t sort through this alone.”

“Yes, you shouldn’t,” you nod. Natasha raises an eyebrow at your ready agreement. “It’s not something to be ashamed of. Lena sees someone. I do too.”

She blinks. “Really?”

“Yes,” you laugh, “Baba takes me every other Thursday. I have horrible abandonment issues. I guess after everything that’s happened, I’ve kinda internalised some stuff.”

“I definitely took advantage of that,” Nat says guiltily. “I’m sorry. Honestly, I am.”

You look at her. “I know.” Your hand squeezes hers before letting go and she instantly aches to feel it again. “I’m sorry, too. For not… I don’t know, setting more boundaries. Or being more forceful.”

“No, no, it wasn’t your fault.”

You hum, and the two of you sit in silence for a long while as the sun begins to retire.

“You know,” you say suddenly, “you don’t have to move across the country. You can if you want, obviously, it’s your call, but if it’s just because of me… you don’t have to.”

“But-? I’m trying to give you space? To heal,” she says confusedly, and you laugh.

“And it’s very sweet, but I don’t need that much space. I’ve already forgiven you.”

Natasha’s soul leaves her body. “You— huh?”

“I have,” you laugh kindly. “I did some of my own thinking, and I just… I don’t know. I don’t think you need me being mad at you, on top of everything else going on in here.” You tap at her temple gently to emphasise your point, and she shivers. “And I don’t think I need that either. I don’t want to carry that with me.”

“Okay,” Natasha breathes. “T— thank you.”

You wrinkle your nose at her affectionately. “You’re silly.”

She’s awash with the overwhelming need to kiss you, and instead twitches a little, digging her nails into her palm. You take in the movement with such wide-eyed concern that she has to close her eyes for a moment, because she’s almost ill with how much she feels for you. This feeling only grows more intense as you continue.

“I know we’re… whatever we are, but… if there’s anything I can do for you, let me know,” you say more quietly. “I know you’ve been through some stuff, and even when you’re seeing someone for it it can get overwhelming. I do care about you.”

She nods, and swallows thickly. “ I don’t— I— uhm. What does this make us?”

You can hear her hopes heavy on her tongue, and your heart is like lead. “Friends?” you offer. “I— I don’t think we should be anything else, right now.”

Natasha nods, and swallows thickly. With it she swallows back the words but I love you. It must be written across her face, though, because you cup it between your hands (which really isn’t helping her self-restraint at all).

“I love you,” you tell her honestly. “And I always have. But love isn’t… you don’t… I don’t know. That kind of love is something that you earn, I think. And we both need to take care of ourselves.”

“I understand.” Natasha’s voice is hoarse, and barely above a whisper. “And I want you to feel like I respect your decision. But I also want you to feel like I’m serious. About you. And I will prove it if I have to.”

Against your own better judgement, you smile at her.

One thing about Natasha Romanoff is that she’s not a quitter.

Some would say it’s an endearing quality. More would probably tell her it’s the reason she finds herself in so many messes in the first place. What’s objectively certain is that she’s a stubborn little shit — and and with this determination she’s decided she’s going to win you back. Your slight encouragement, no matter how vague, is enough fuel for a fire that could simmer for months.

It starts as chocolates, and flowers. At this point she seems to have cottoned onto the fact that you’re not one for big, theatrical confessions of love, but rather consistent affirmations of it. Actions, not words, she’s heard you say (although now more than ever before she’s seeing for herself what you mean). So there’s no four-act sonnet recitals when you receive her gifts — although you don’t really receive them at all, in the traditional sense. Rather they seem to begin popping up everywhere you go. At one point you open your locker to a bouquet so over-endowed that flowers begin to tumble out onto the floor. Sam steps neatly to the side and watches with glee as you scramble to clean the mess. (He’s most definitely enjoying watching all of this play out.)

Your favourite of all these surprise gifts is probably one delivered by your own four-legged Cupid himself. Liho headbutts the door to your room open and stalks in with a scowl on his face and something attached to his collar. As soon as you remove it to inspect it he rolls onto his back and looks up at you expectantly, clearly expecting compensation for this favour.

“Yes, you’re a very handsome boy,” you tell him distractedly, using one hand to rub his belly while you attempt to unfurl the note he’s delivered with the other. Yelena lets out a noise of amusement. She’s perched on your bed with the Kardashians paused on her laptop in favour of watching this play out instead.

“You are so ungraceful,” she comments mildly, making no move to help you.

“I love how you always see the best in me,” you reply through gritted teeth.

After a moment, you manage to succeed in your task. I picked these for you :), the letter reads. You glance over at Liho’s collar again to see a tiny bunch of forget-me-nots, only slightly battered from their journey and bound neatly by brown twine.

“Another gift from the mystery girl?” Yelena teases, and you groan.

“Okay, saying mystery girl is officially banned. It’s giving me war flashbacks.”

“And that is fair,” your sister muses, getting to her feet to inspect your latest delivery. After she’s done she sits back on her heels. “You don’t have to keep turning her down, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if it’s just because of me. You have my… blessing, or whatever. But on the condition that you’re not gross about it.” She rolls her eyes, and nudges your cheek with her nose. You squirm good-naturedly.

“Why thank you, your Grace.”

“Yes, I’m the graceful one,” she preens.

“Sure,” you snort, and she smirks. “Um, thank you, though. That’s good to know. I guess I’m still… figuring it out, but she’s growing on me again.” And it’s true. You have your reservations now, but she’s trying to remind you why you first fell for her (and yeah, she might be succeeding). Part of you wonders if she’s turning on the superficiality again, but after she spilled her guts to you on the swing set you’re trying to have faith that she really is turning a new leaf, and charming you authentically.

Yelena considers this. “Yes, okay. This makes sense. Remember to tell me if she tries anything again though. I will put them up.” She raises her fists and you giggle, but you know she’s at least partially serious. She’s very athletic in her own right and people at school go out of their way to avoid crossing her. That’s how you’ve stayed out of trouble your whole life — by standing behind Yelena and letting her handle it instead. Where you hesitate, she dives right in. You adore that about her, though.

“Do you know what you’ll do once she’s out of state?” Lena asks, and you shrug.

“Figure it out as we go, I guess. I don’t know if she’ll lose interest in me.”

The blonde looks up fiercely. “If she does that I will stick them up.”

You beam at her, admittedly less for the violence and more for the sentiment behind it. She beams back for reasons more ambiguous.

“Do you know what we will do?” Yelena queries. Upon your frown she elaborates, “next year when it is our turn to pick college. You and me, what will we do?”

“Pick the same one, and both get in because we’re super smart, and we’ll be roommates. And you can make us mac and cheese every night,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

She contemplates this.

“Okay,” she says, seemingly satisfied with your answer. “Can we hit play now? I want to know what’s happen to Kim’s diamond earring.”

“Two cookies say she gets it back.”

“Two cookies say eat my ass the way a fish ate her earring,” she retorts, and the two of you settle on the bed again. (You have two more cookies than usual after dinner.)

Despite the witticism you take Yelena’s blessing with pride, and it means a lot more to you than you let on. Now that every single member of your family has shown their support for your relationship you can’t help but feel a slight ray of hope, the likes of which you thought had been stomped out long ago. Never before have you dared to imagine a situation where you could actually have a shot with the girl of your dreams, who you’ve wanted for as long as you can remember — and yet here you are, with her putting her back out working overtime to win you over, and your family watching with interest. Every morning you wake up a little warmer to the idea of letting this happen.

That doesn’t mean Natasha’s out of the woods yet, though, and you’re careful to make this clear to her. She senses your hesitance, and completely understands its presence. She’ll wait for you as long as it takes. (She’s genuinely stunned at how forgiving you have been of her, in all honesty.) In fact she takes your reluctances in her stride in a way that actually has you feeling more for her — but again, you know better than to repeat your mistakes of the past, and so you take this as slowly as you can considering she’s coming on strong and you live under the same roof.

Three months of summer lie ahead of you, stretching out like an endless expanse of sunset-tinted possibility. You and Yelena manage to land jobs at the video store in town — Yelena goes blazing into the interview and makes it clear as she can that the two of you are a package deal. Wong, the guy who runs the place, just seems grateful for the help.

The store becomes somewhat of a hangout spot for the two of you, who work the same hours and are joined at the hip like always, and it’s a safe bet to stop by if anyone wants to find you. Sam often swings by to playfully irritate the both of you, since the marina where his parents’ boat is docked is just round the corner, and Natasha will meet you when you’re closing to take you out for dinner after. (Sometimes Yelena tags along to these meals, and gleefully revels in the awkwardness her presence causes.) Since you and Yelena are twins again too, things are looking up for your friendship group and they’ve taken to visiting also. You’re delighted to spend time with them again. (Seeing Makkari’s face light up when she steps into the Deaf & Subtitled section of the store makes your whole week.)

In fact, word seems to have gotten out about the fact that Wong’s employed you, because one sleepy Tuesday afternoon Bucky Barnes drops by to rent a DVD. He picks one at random, not even glancing at the cover, and as you scan it through for him he says to you lowly, “thank you for making Natasha happy again. She cares so much about you.” He offers you a genuine smile before heading out abruptly and almost forgetting his DVD in the process. (You suspect his purchase was a mere means to talk to you.) It’s a strange interaction, but decidedly more pleasant than your last with him, so you take it no further.

Another perk of having this job is that you have your own money now. You’re not really sure what to do with it at first; the only thing that occurs to you is that you want to get a gift for Natasha. At the end of the summer is her graduation — she’ll walk and wear the square hat and everything, and you’re very excited to embarrass her with photos of the event — and after that she’ll leave for college. Her graduation is the perfect time to present her with said gift, you decide.

You know you want the gift to be meaningful, but you’re not really sure of the specifics. Luckily for you, one night on the roof with Natasha is all you need for the inspiration to strike.

Can’t sleep, you text her one night, after hours of fruitless tossing and turning.

She replies immediately.

Me neither

Come down to my room :)

If you want to!!! she adds after a moment, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. She is adorable.

Omw, you tell her, rolling out of bed.

The door is unlocked!!!!!! just come in

You follow her instructions and slip inside. The room is cosily lit, with her fairy lights on and her little lamp shaped like Calcifer flickering merrily; the bed is unmade, as if someone’s been in it recently, but Natasha herself is nowhere to be seen.

“Nat?” you call out uncertainly, and squeak in surprise when her head pops through the window. She smiles softly at your reaction.

“I’m out here,” she tells you. “C’mon, there’s space for both of us.” She wriggles along her perch on the flat row of tiles of the roof, and pats the empty spot beside her. Antics like this don’t faze you after twelve years of friendship with Yelena. You clamber out beside her readily.

“Hi,” says Natasha a little bashfully, once you’re settled. You lean up to peck her lips and she flushes. “Y— yeah. Um, hi.”

“Hi,” you reply sweetly. “It’s nice out here.”

“It is,” she agrees, her gaze not straying from you. You take no notice, though; your sights are set to the heavens. No matter how much you snipe about how annoying it is to live in a small town, the views still take your breath away. The stars shimmer bright above you, as they do almost every night. They’re not the only beautiful sight your town has to offer; Wanda adores the rocky hills at the edge of town, where many scavengers like squirrels and raccoons have made their home (one boy in your grade, Peter Quill, has befriended one of the raccoons and affectionately named him ‘Rocket’. He visits Rocket every day after lunch with his leftovers from the cafeteria). Occasionally she’s able to convince everyone in your group to accompany her hiking there. Despite your grumbling, it does make for an enjoyable day out.

“I come out here when I can’t sleep,” she tells you quietly.

“I sit on the roof sometimes,” you reply, and you beam at each other. It’s true — you do, but sharing the information feels vulnerable. You’ve figured out how to hoist yourself up through the skylight in the loft and onto the utmost point of the house, but it’s an activity you’ve kept as your own for now. While you adore more than anything being twins with Yelena, and living your life with her, you’re also learning how to exist by yourself for the first time in your life, and enjoying having your own space. Your little corner in the attic has afforded you many freedoms, and not just material ones.

“You see the moon?” Nat asks. The planet in question hangs round and heavy over the horizon, not quite full.

“How could I miss her?” She’s the most beautiful thing in sight.

“You know the difference between waxing and waning?” Natasha prompts, and you shake your head, solely because you love when she talks about her passions. “Waxing is when the moon transitions from a new moon to a full moon — so she fills out. See, that’s what she’s doing now.”

“She’s nearly full,” you remark quietly.

“Yup.” She grins. “Now when she’s waxing, she fills in from the right side — so she kinda looks like a C.” She makes a C shape with her left hand and holds it up against the sky to confirm that, yes, while the moon is waxing it vaguely resembles the letter. “But soon she’ll start to wane — maybe next week? After the full moon. Waning is the transition from the full moon back to the new moon, so she shrinks away into nothing. She’s eaten away from the left side, so she looks like a reverse C.” Nat makes a C shape with her right hand this time, so that it’s reversed, and holds it up to compare to the moon. They don’t match up right now, but they’ll get there someday.

“This is my favourite period though,” she confesses, her voice dropping a little lower, “of the lunar cycle. When the moon is waxing.”

“Why?”

“Because it feels,” she hesitates. “I don’t know. It feels like gross to say out loud but it kinda just feels like, encouraging. Things are always changing. They won’t be like this forever, you know? The cycle keeps on repeating itself.”

“The cycle keeps on repeating itself,” you repeat, and she smiles at you.

“Yeah. You don’t think it’s… dumb? I don’t know, I’ve never brought anyone else up here. I —”

“I don’t think that at all,” you tell her, and she kisses you gently.

The next day you go out and buy a crescent moon necklace.

Natasha has been coming into your room more and more often lately, and you don’t trust yourself to not leave it lying around in plain sight, so one day while she’s out you enlist Alexi’s help to loosen one of the floorboards in the attic so you can stash things under it inconspicuously.

“It’s not for anything suspicious,” you tell him quickly, “you can look under it whenever you want. It’s just to hide gifts and —”

“Relax, sunflower,” he chuckles, “you are entitled to your secrets.”

The necklace stays hidden there until summer draws to a close.

The weeks fly by in a golden haze and before you know it, you’re getting ready for Natasha’s graduation.

Alexi is stood on the landing in his smartest suit, and flexing proudly in the mirror on the wall. “It still fits!” he booms triumphantly.

“Don’t forget to wear your nice shirt, любовь,” Melina calls up the stairs to him. “No one with holes in.” He deflates a little, and retreats back into their bedroom to change.

“He looks fine,” Yelena scolds half-heartedly as she lumbers down the stairs, holding out her wrists to Melina. “Can you do my cufflinks?”

“Where’s your please?” Melina retorts, but she sets her clutch down so she can use both hands to help her daughter.

“We have to leave in ten minutes,” Natasha announces as she bursts from her own room. “Семья, I know what you are like, and we cannot be late.”

“Relax, love.” Alexi reemerges from the bedroom in a different shirt this time. “I will go and start the car,” he starts down the stairs, “and— oh.” He pauses as several buttons pop off his shirt simultaneously. “Ебать.” He turns around and subduedly makes his way back up the stairs.

“Baba,” Natasha groans. “This is what I mean.”

“Hey! I am nearly ready,” says Yelena indignantly, nodding at her mother in thanks for doing her cufflinks before ducking in front of the mirror. “Oh shit, where is my tie?”

“Language,” reprimands Melina.

“See?” Natasha sighs exasperatedly. “Y/N/N is the only one who’s ready.” She hurries down the stairs to where you’re stood in the hall, watching the scene unfold serenely. You’ve been ready to leave for the last ten minutes. She beams at you and pecks you on the cheek just shy of your lips. You flush, and the crescent moon necklace burns a hole in your pocket. Now isn’t the time, though.

Eventually, you all make it into the car, with everyone now sporting correctly-fitting outfits. As always on car journeys, you’re in the back, sandwiched in the middle between Natasha and Yelena. Lena scrolls through her phone disinterestedly, headphones in, while Natasha vibrates on your other side with anticipation and nerves. You take one of her hands between both of yours and she stills instantly.

“I am very proud of you,” you say quietly, “to have made it this far, with these grades. You’ve gotten into your dream college. You can do anything. Today will go fine.”

She doesn’t speak for fear of bawling and potentially ruining her eyeliner, so instead she rests her head on your shoulder in silent gratitude. She doesn’t move until you arrive, at which point she shows you all to your seats (front row, you note) and disappears to the backstage meeting point for all of the graduates.

The actual ceremony doesn’t begin for a while, so Melina converses with the other parents seated around her while Alexi nods politely, and you and Yelena compete in a thumb war. Eventually Principal Rambeau steps onto the stage and a silence settles on the gathered audience.

“Thank you all for attending,” she begins. “We’re here to celebrate our wonderful seniors, who have put in so much work to make it here today, and walk this stage.” She continues like that for a short while before they begin to call the students’ names, and they each walk across the stage in turn to claim their diploma. Natasha is a little later on the register, so you just sit back and enjoy the show — you’ve lived in this small town all your life, where most people know of each other, and so you recognise or even know the vast majority of the people who make their way across the stage. Some of them choose to make a memorable exit from their high school career (like Happy Hogan who chooses to breakdance his way across the stage, or Ned Leeds who walks proudly in a hot dog suit), whereas others take the more graceful route (see Valkyrie King, a prominent athlete of the school, who walks with confidence and regally basks in everyone’s recognition of her). When Natasha Romanova-Shostakov is called, she walks the stage a little bashfully, and with a blush accepts the cheers showered upon her after several years of being the cheer team’s star. You clap and shout louder than anyone else, and to Yelena’s glee capture several shots of her in her square graduate cap. Front row seat privilege. 

After the presentations, the students flood into the crowd and people break off into little groups. The air hums with the joy of people laughing and congratulating and embracing one another. Natasha makes her way over to you and Yelena, who are stood now with your parents beside the refreshments. She brightens when she spots you, and is instantly by your side, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“There is my girl!” Melina cheers. An outbreak of hugging ensues.

You mingle politely for a while with the other families milling around your own. Natasha appears intermittently, being the centre of attention today. Yelena is by your side (with her arm annoyingly resting on your shoulder to remind you that she’s taller) until one of her hockey friends pilfers her to show her something. In the few moments that you’re unaccompanied, Natasha resurfaces from the crowd, takes your arm and leads you somewhere a little quieter, and a little less visible to the masses.

“I just, um,” she realises she’s still holding your arm and lets go of it with a blush, “I wanted to thank you for being here. Like actually. It means a lot to me. I know— I know that in a couple of weeks I won’t be here properly, and it might make things weird, but —”

Now is the perfect time, you decide. As she continues to nervously ramble you pull the crescent moon necklace in its little velvet box from your pocket, and present it to her. She falls silent and looks at you.

“It’s for you,” you say unnecessarily, opening it to show her the treasure inside. Her eyes widen. “I— I want to do this with you. I want to give us a try. I like being with you.”

And as you clasp the delicate chain around her neck, and lean up to press a chaste kiss to her lips, Natasha understands. Love is something you earn.

She entwines your hand with hers, and together the two of you make your way back towards your family.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x fem reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff #natalia romanova #black widow #high school au #marvel high school au #mama melina paramore reference u get a cookie if u spot it

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Hi beautyyyy I’m back spamming your inbox bc I love your stuff and I thought it would be fun to request a “there’s only one bed” trope with either Carlos or Mick. I hope you’re having an amazing day!!!

We Can Share - Mick Schumacher

<word count - 1305>

The strobe lights were blaring and the colours constantly attacking your eyes were giving you a slight headache. Well, it was probably that and the amounts of alcohol that you were consuming. 

You and pretty much every driver on the grid were in the club, celebrating the summer break and getting ready to wind down for a while. Now, you, Mick, Esteban, Pierre and a few others were scattered around a table, idly sipping at drinks as the music drilled through your heads.

"Do you guys want to come back to mine for a bit? It might be quieter," Esteban yelled over the music, earning nods from all of you around. You said your goodbyes before dipping out of the club, the wind washing over your skin.

The coolness was welcomed after dancing between many sweating bodies, and it felt freshening. "Feel free to stay over tonight if you want," Esteban said, opening the door to his house and ushering everyone in.

After playing some card games and drinking some more, Pierre drunkenly suggested that Esteban whipped out his old Wii and you all did some Just Dance. Of course, there was no saying no to Just Dance, so you watched on as people made fools of themselves. 

You had done Just Dance with this exact group of people before, so you all had favourites that you like to do as pairs. You and Esteban always had to do 'Get Lucky', since people cackled at his poor attempt at the footwork.

You weren't a Beyonce level dancer by any means, but you were better than Esteban. Especially drunk Esteban. The pair of you struck the ending pose, earning whoops and cheers from the people sat around on the couch.

"Are we ready for the big finale?" Pierre hollered, snatching the Wii remote off you and scrolling across the song board until he found what he was looking for. You glanced over to Mick, hands on hips as you caught your breath. 

"Not tonight guys, I'm too tired," you shook your head, trying to sit back down. Esteban threw himself into the empty spot on the couch you were aiming for, smirking at you. "Do it. Do it," Esteban started chanting, nudging Mick and looking directly at you.

Finally, you gave in to their persistence and looked over at Mick's quickly reddening face. "Only if you do it," you said, holding your hand out to him. 

"Fine," he smiled, unable to say no to you and to the tradition. After every night out when you all ended up at someone's house, you and Mick were always forced to dance the 'Timber' dance from Just Dance 2014.

You didn't need the dancers on screen, you just needed the music and you had learnt the moves already. You took your positions, Mick playing the Panda, and got on with the dancing. Eventually, you hopped on Mick's back and let your entire weight rest on him. 

You rested your head on the back of his shoulder, trying to suppress a yawn as you fought the urge to fall asleep on his back. "I'm going to head to bed now, guys," you said, slowly sliding off Mick's back.

"Yeah, me too," Mick agreed. Everyone retreated to their rooms that they normally had at Esteban's, but you got to yours to find Yuki already passed out on the bed. He didn't tend to come to the after parties, so he didn't have an assigned room at Estie's.

Sighing in defeat, you turned back around and headed back for the couch. Once you had finally found a comfortable position, a scratchy blanket draped over you, you tried to fall asleep. Just as you were about to drift off, you heard some footsteps approaching.

You didn't want them to talk to you, so you rolled over and screwed your eyes shut. The cupboard opened and closed, and the tap turned on and off. The person started walking back to their room, and you felt their gaze on you as their footfalls fell still.

The glass was set down and the footsteps approached you. From behind the couch, the person gently tucked a lock of your loose hair behind your ear. When they pulled their hand away, you needed to know who it was. 

You opened your eyes to see Mick stood over you, his blue eyes looking right back at you. "Sorry, did I wake you up?" he winced, pulling his hand away.

"No, I was awake," you nodded, pulling the blanket further up your shoulders. 

"Why are you out here?" he asked, sitting next to you. You took the chance to have a good look at him, his blonde hair was ruffled and his cheeks were rosy out of tipsiness.

"Yuki is passed out in my room, so I am out here," you explained, groaning as the couch creaked under you as the hard springs contracted. "You can have mine if you want," he offered without hesitation. 

"No, it's alright. I'm fine here," you reassured, just wanting to sleep. Inside, you were suppressing the urge to start giggling like a teenager at his offer. 

"I'm not leaving you here," he said, standing and grabbing your arm. Mick tugged you up with him, and you didn't have the energy to resist. He dragged you all the way to his room, pushing you down onto the bed.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he smiled, prepared to take your spot on the couch. 

"Mick, come back. This is your bed," you spoke, slightly timid. "We can share if you want," you said, but you weren't sure he heard you. You didn't want him to go back to the uncomfortable couch. "You sure?"

"Yeah, of course," you nodded as he tentatively padded back over to you and led next to you. For a moment, he just sat there, gazing at you. You had been friends for a while, but you had never shared a bed. 

"Are we making a pillow barrier or..." he trailed off, taking some of the pillows from behind his head and getting ready to put them in-between the two of you. He wanted you to feel as comfortable as possible during this situation. 

 "Mick, we're not twelve. We can sleep in the same bed without a pillow barrier," you softly giggled, watching as he blushed. 

"I'll see you in the morning, Mick," you smiled, shimmying under the covers and finally getting comfortable. He just sat there a bit, before shuffling under the duvet with you. 

After a few minutes, you heard Mick softly snoring next to you.

As you were about to finally fall asleep peacefully for the first time that night, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you flush to his chest. You didn't even think of wriggling away, it made you even comfier.

You relaxed into his embrace, letting your legs tangle with his. For a moment, you couldn't believe that he had done that, but he was asleep so he wasn't consciously doing it.

You felt his breath on the back of your neck as his fingers absentmindedly traced up and down your arm. "Good night, my love," you could have sworn you heard him mumble. He was very clearly asleep, so you just brushed it off as sleep talking. 

Now, you were falling asleep in the comforting arms of one of your best friends. You let your mind wander and imagine that this was something that happened every night.

You let yourself imagine a time that this was a regular thing and savoured every minute of it. For the rest of the night, Mick held you close and neither of your stirred until the late morning.

If it was anyone else, you probably would have opted for the pillow barrier. But, because it was Mick, it made the whole situation a whole lot better. Maybe Yuki could come over to Esteban's more often. 

A/N - Hope you enjoyed my love, I adore all of your requests! The Carlos version will be out soon, I'm currently writing it. If you want to make a request, you can either message me or send it through the submissions button on my page. Have a good day lovelies!

|masterlist|

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x you #f1 imagines #formula 1 imagines #fluff #mick schumacher #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher x you #mick schumacher fluff #mick schumacher imagines #ms47

[aziraphales-library]

Hi!! Do you have any good streamer AU recs? I'm a sucker for a good streamer AU. Preferably one where Crowley and Beelzebub are friends. Thank you!!

We have youtuber fics here on our #social media tag, so check those out. Here are a few more...

Of Love and Loss (RIP Ms Beakman) by lucky_spike (T)

Crowley is a little bored now that he is no longer on Hell's payroll. He finds something else to do. Aziraphale is supportive.

My Love to Keep Me Warm by slateblueflowers (T)

The January after the apocalypse doesn't happen, Aziraphale and Crowley get a little restless and decide to challenge each other to a contest: who can take the other on the best human (winter-time) date? To the victor go the bragging rights! Watch the dates on Aziraphale's YouTube channel. Who do you think wins? ------ Date #1: An Old Favourite. Channel: Aziraphale Fell’s YouTube Channel. Views: 8 • January 3 Likes: 7 Dislikes: 1 Share | Save | Report [A man withdraws hands from the camera lens and crouches over, revealing a shock of unruly blond hair, a gleeful smile, and rosy cheeks. He steps back and turns to face a man leaning insouciantly against a kitchen countertop.]

i am just the (new invention) by littlesnowpea (T)

A list of hobbies Crowley has picked up over the past 6000 years: -gardening -cooking -fashion -pining for Aziraphale -making YouTube videos A list of hobbies Aziraphale has picked up over the past 6000 years: -reading -book restoration -music -pining for Crowley -commenting on Crowley’s YouTube videos When Aziraphale starts giving Crowley flowers, Crowley takes to his YouTube channel to discuss the meaning behind it, where Aziraphale comments encouragement to confess his feelings – under an alias, of course. There is absolutely no way any of this could ever go wrong.

The Tenant by MarisFerasi (E)

They Were Roommates Human AU Trope set during Lockdown 2020: Crowley got kicked out by an ex a few months ago and has couch surfed his last wave of his few friends' benevolence. He finds a listing for a bedsit in Soho and goes to check out the place, and finds the fussy little angel of a landlord quite charming indeed. He moves in and they quickly become friends, but both desire more and pining ensues. The real issues begin when Crowley loses his main job during major cutbacks because of the pandemic, and has to rely on his side hustle of online sex work to pay the rent, and Zira finds out. What will happen? Will the two part ways? Will Zira ask Crowley to leave when he finds out his "dirty little secret"?

Changing of the Seasons by AppleSeeds (T)

Confined to his bookshop, Aziraphale joins a virtual training session about urban foraging led by botanist and natural wellbeing practitioner Anthony Crowley, and feels some relief from his anxiety for the first time since lockdown began. After that, he watches every video Crowley has posted online, but will he ever get up the courage to actually interact with him? After all, Crowley keeps giving him opportunities to do so... Perhaps once the lockdown is over, some one-to-one nature-based relaxation therapy might be just what Aziraphale needs?

Talk about the weather by nightbloomingcereus (M)

Television meteorologist Aziraphale Fell and Youtube storm chaser A. J. Crowley have nothing in common aside from a purely professional interest in the weather and a mutually beneficial arrangement to lend a hand when needed. So what if they bicker and flirt more than your typical professional acquaintances, or if their arrangement inevitably veers into more personal territory? It's not as if they're in love or anything. Absolutely not.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #social media #youtuber au #mod d

[dribs-and-drabbles]

This is a little something (she says and then writes nearly a thousand words) about Kawi and intimacy and his behaviour towards Pisaeng's affections in Be My Favourite ep 9. I've been thinking about it all week but wasn't sure if I wanted to use my precious free-time to make a post. However, on the cusp of the new ep, I realise I do want to get these thoughts out.

I realised from reading other people's perspectives of the ep that my initial assessment of how Kawi was behaving was perhaps clouded by the 'old lenses' that I was subconsciously watching the show through. For context, I wasn't sure that I liked that Kawi kept pushing Pisaeng away and I even mentioned the dreaded Blushing Maiden trope. After some thought, I realise that my initial judgement was very much influenced by a couple of things carried over from ye olden bl times (which may not have been done away with completely but seem to be on their way out in present times).

First, from having seen so many bl/qls with the blushing maiden trope, subconsciously I guess I still expect to see it because it had been so prevalent. And second, despite the re-wiring my brain has undergone when it comes to Krist, I think I still fell back on the earlier presumptions that Krist was either averse to skinship (particularly with men) and/or wasn't a good enough actor to convey physical intimacy (this, of course, mostly stems from his portrayal of Arthit in SOTUS, which for all we know was how he was specifically directed to act - and which many have interpreted as demi- or asexual, which absolutely has a place at the table).

My conclusions to these realisations is that I need to learn to trust these newer bl/qls that they really aren't going to rehash the old questionable tropes of yesteryear.

I remember some discourse before the last three eps of My School President - when we were worried about the ending - about how Bad Buddy taught us that we can feel safe watching it - "safe in the knowledge that tropes were being subverted, that the usual angsty triggers actually got resolved pretty quickly, that the ep 11 curse wasn't actually a curse at all". And we needed to take that knowledge to help assuage our fears about the ending of MSP. And I think I'm in a similar situation here with Be My Favourite and Kawi in particular.

Staying with Bad Buddy for a bit longer (because, really, when can I ever not talk about it in relation to something else?), I remember feeling a similar disappointment with how Pran was being portrayed in ep 9. I felt he too bordered on the blushing maiden with how he shied away from Pat's advances in his room before Korn came in, before the rugby game, and even when washing up after the hotpot date. I don't see that now because, of course, we know Pran isn't a blushing maiden at all - I mean he's not known as Feral Musky Scented HOE Pran for nothing.

Yes, it took time for Pran to get used to Pat's affections but that was probably because he had pined over this man for so long it was all a bit overwhelming at first. Pran probably needed to ease into letting down his walls, to be vulnerable around Pat, and to believe it was all real. And in the end, when he had gotten used to it all, Pran holds back because he likes to make Pat work for it...because Pat also likes to work for it, because they get off on role-playing - as I've said before, it's like foreplay to them.

I'm not saying this is the same for Kawi but it's a similar situation. I knew this about Pran, and that I was wrong in my interpretation of him, and yet I didn't think to approach Kawi and Pisaeng with the same lens. The lens that so many of you have helpfully pointed out - Kawi is a 30-year-old virgin. This is all so new to him, not only to be intimate with someone but also with a man whom he hadn't even contemplated being with. He's spent 12 years only thinking of Pear (emphasis on 'only thinking' as well as 'only thinking').

@burntsuncomet said it well in their tags: "touch gets very very difficult if you don't interact with people much, so intimacy of normal affectionate touches are tough. Kawi would have to start slow and let Piseang just smack a kiss, maybe hold hands, hug a bit, it's a lot of work before intimacy from touch will be like second nature in Kawi's case." @rocketturtle4 also added that Kawi's "general uncertainty could be very well tied in with his loneliness and, especially, his fear of losing Piseang if he does the wrong thing".

@waitmyturtles offered a slightly different perspective, that almost "everything in this show is totally intentional, and...that [Kawi's] discomfort is totally meant to reflect those accusations from Krist’s past about his clear discomfort in acting out intimacy (especially juxtaposed with how much better he’s done with the intimacy in this show)".

So, all of this is to say that I need to start trusting this new wave of bl/qls - a message I obviously forgot from My School President and which has been proven by several other series this year.

And I need to trust Be My Favourite especially, because, as @williamrikers said, "they've swerved and avoided every other trope so far I believe that they're working towards something here". And I agree. Every episode has been fantastic and I haven't disliked a single thing about the show so far.

On top of that, I need to trust my newfound belief in Krist's acting, because he has pulled out some absolutely brilliant performances in this show so far - so why should I think ep 9 is any different?

#be my favourite #be my favorite #be my favorite the series #I do find it interesting that both eps I talk about are eps 9 of 12 #it's probably just a coincidence... #or maybe from a story-telling perspective this is just where this particular beat needs to be hit #anyway... #this wasn't supposed to be long #ha! #thank you to everyone who contributed their thoughts on my ep 9 post #I am holding myself accountable #and checking the lenses through which I watch these show

[celsmedia]

My favourite Disney movie ౨ৎ

A review written by Cel

I finally decided to write my love and thoughts about this movie after never finding enough words for it. Tangled is the first 3D animated Disney movie with a disney princess and was their animated studios' 50th movie. It is loosely based on the german fairytale "Rapunzel" by the brothers Grimm from the early 1800s. Some of Disney's previous disney princess movies had also been based on the brothers Grimm fairytales. As we can see in the animated movie we're introduced to this kingdom called Corona, this place is based on the german culture and architecture along with some characters' names. The music is written and composed by the infamous Alan Menken, whom I've admired his work for as long as I can remember, he has composed for Disney multiple times such as the soundtrack for The Little Mermaid. I officially became a fan of him earlier last year when I started watching Tangled's sequel series "Rapunzel's tangled adventure" where he had also composed the music, I definitely recommend watching it if you really enjoyed the movie. One would assume it is some type of spin-off but surprisingly it connects with all the details from the original movie.

To start off with my love for this: I was never a big fan of this movie as a little kid as I am right now. Of course I knew all the words to the songs and the storyline, but I was more of a Cinderella and Frozen kid. Even so, this movie was still on repeat on my family's TV most of my childhood and I safely assume the DVD got ruined because of how much it played.

Tangled is my favourite Disney movie and have been for a very long time. I don't remember when it really got to me, but it was always a comfort movie I could watch all the time if I felt bored or didn't have any movie choices in mind. After watching it atleast once a month (unaware of the amount of rewatches), I felt emotionally attached to it and I knew I could relate to Rapunzel. She is a witty, creative, and curious 18 yr old girl who had been trapped in a tower for most of her life without knowing the true meaning about it. My favourite relatable thing about her is the amount of hobbies she mentions in "When will my life begin?". Disney did really well showing domestic abuse and passive aggression from mother Gothel, us as the viewers already know that she's the bad guy in the story but Rapunzel doesn't which makes her relationship with her feel so natural. Her realisation is one of my favourite scenes because of the recollection of her early memories. I feel the intention of this was to help young children who watches it would maybe realise if they are actually being treated badly and neglected. Of course a young kid wouldn't pick up the bits and pieces that fast but it is easy for someone to think their treatment and relationship with their parents are natural which is the same case with Rapunzel.

Now with Rapunzel's romance that I am very fond of. If you really think about the time Rapunzel and Eugene spent together and the ending of the movie, it is quite weird how they just got married already. They met a day before her 18th birthday, he was on the run and she wanted to see the "floating lights". The fact that Eugene was canonically 26 years old in the movie which can seem pretty weird, but in the series they reveal he was 23 as he turns 26 at the end of the last season. I love how they didn't make them flirty at the start of their friendship which obviously would be natural for two strangers and especially for a girl who's never talked to another human being other than her mother. Flynn Rider, the name Eugene went by, was not happy with this trip he had to do if he wanted his satchel back. It's just wholesome to watch them progress throughout the movie and the way their feelings begins to develop. I like to think Rapunzel admired him from the start, as Eugene fell for her later on. If their relationship had a trope I would definitely say the "she fell first, but he fell harder" trope. In the sequel series, they start the story some months (i think) after Rapunzel returned to her real parents. But she and Eugene hasn't been married yet, she actually said no first because she felt insecure and was still trying to be used to her new life. Their relationship took years with complicated feelings and miscommunication which is one of the best parts of the series. Me personally would've said "yes" right away to Eugene. He is probably the most handsome and dare I say best Disney man. I mean they did put a group of women at the studio to work out his best design..

This is definitely the best animated movie among Disney for me, every scene is just satisfying to watch and it's like letting your brain rest for over an hour. They captured such beautiful moments in animation and perfected it so well with dialogue and music. One of my biggest dreams would be to watch this on a big screen with a live orchestra, and possibly Mandy Moore and Zachary Levi sing too.

I also want to address the live action of Tangled because of the current rumours about the castings. As far as I know, Disney hasn't fully confirmed that the live action is in the works and everything so far is just rumours or assumptions. Only a few days ago 1-2 articles had been found informing that Disney has reportedly casted Avantika Vandanapu and Milo Manheim as Rapunzel and Eugene. This caught a huge amount of attention and controversy on social media, and my biggest problem with this is how people actually believe it. I really thought we were past believing absolute everything we see on the internet, especially from websites we've never gotten information from. Because why would a website almost no one reads suddenly have Disney's thoughts of their cast? Worst is the people believing this and being racist about it. Avantika had never been a choice in my fancast for Rapunzel as she doesn't fit her description, but that does NOT mean she shouldn't be allowed to play her as there are plenty versions of white Rapunzels from before. The people using this casting to compare it with saying "Tiana/Moana should be played by a *white woman*" are who annoy me the most in this situation. I've had multiple arguments with different people the past couple of days because of stating how comparing those two are not fair and the inaccurate casting isn't the same difference. First of all: Tiana's appearance and storyline are based on her skin colour and culture as she's an afro-american woman from the 1920s in New Orleans. In parts of her movie her "background" even gets represented as a problem for her to achieve her dream, this movie is obviously made to represent our beautiful black people in the world. Shocked they didn't get a representation until 2009. Second: Moana is based FULLY on polynesian culture and through polynesian mythology, even her voice actor was encouraged to be a part of that. Auli'i Cravalho, her voice actor, is native Hawaiian and encourages their culture along with the music Lin Manuel Miranda wrote. At last: Comparing this rumoured Rapunzel casting to Tiana or Moana is wrong as her story isn't meant for representation of oppression and not based on her skin colour. Yes, it is loosely based on the brothers Grimm's fairytale which is German and the movie does show German details in the story but things will always change and they already are. Why not let today's children grow up with beautiful characters that can let them feel as included as every white person can with the previous characters? I can say this has never been a problem to me growing up even though none of the disney princesses looked like me, it still makes children aware of it at some point and when I realised I didn't have a disney princess that looked or was based remotely on people like ME, I began hoping Disney would make a south-east Asian princess. That's why I agree that Disney should start making new disney princess movies representing more people instead of not having an accurate casting for the character but honestly, Rapunzel's SKIN colour is not that relevant to her story at all. Anyway, my fancast for Tangled has always been Meg Donnelly and Milo Manheim after watching the Zombies movies. They have great chemistry and both of them sing perfectly! I'm excited to see how this live action movie will turn out, after Halle Bailey's "The Little Mermaid" I hope it will be as amazing.

My love for Tangled is endless but to finish my review I want to thank you for reading all the way down here. If I was only allowed to watch one movie the rest of my life I might have chosen this or a 2-3 hour long just to be entertained longer. The amount of times I've watched this has made me able to recite most of the scenes and the whole film is engraved to my mind. I think if I had enough time and peace I could literally sit still and watch the movie scene by scene in my mind. Again, thank you for reading!

Written and edited by Cel

05/04/2024 Friday.

#film review #tangled #rapunzel #flynn rider #eugene fitzherbert #tangled review #movies #letterboxd #digital journal #girlblogging #movie review #cinema #tangled live action #disney #disney movies #review

[ariainstars]

The Genius of Georgette Heyer

Georgette Heyer, an Englishwoman who lived from 1902 to 1974, is one of my favourite novelists, and I often reread her books or at least some parts of her books just to retire into an agreeable world. She wrote historical novels and thrillers, but I must admit I don’t like these very much. To me, Heyer’s genius was giving a breath of fresh air to the overworn genre of romance novels set in the English Regency era. (Although some of these Heyer novels like These Old Shades or The Convenient Marriage are set during High Rococo.)

In my opinion Heyer is highly underrated, standing in the shade of the more known Jane Austen or the Brontë sisters, books women most relate to when they want to read historical romance novels; Barbara Cartland is also more known, an author whose works are too saccharine for my taste.

Austen’s or the Brontë sister’s novels are not actually romances although they are often described as such; they are accurate portrayals of the society the authors lived in, romantic attachments playing a major role of course, but the focus is on the importance of family and society framing them and influencing them, for good or for bad.

I always found myself drawn to Heyer’s stories, long before I fell in love for the first time myself; the average romance novels get on my nerves. Now, and after having experienced love more than once, I can say that I wholly share Heyer’s approach that no matter how much in love you are has no influence on whether you and the object of your interest fit together.

The common trope in romances is “love conquers all”, which I personally dislike because it strips the protagonists of having their own mind and their own agenda. “Love” makes the choice for them; they don’t consciously choose to be with this person or other. Alternatively, the protagonists are “meant for each other” but “star-crossed”, i.e. circumstances or their own folly (or both) prevent them from being together, in which case the novel is framed as a tragedy and we are expected to cry buckets over it.

This is fortunately not the case in Heyer’s romance novels. Like Cartland, she writes of an England that was long gone before she was born, of course in a romanticized way. A lot of her stories mirror how the do’s and don’ts of those times, in particular in the upper class, influenced their lives and made it very difficult to navigate society.

Georgette Heyer’s genius is her capacity to imbue old tropes with new elements, and most importantly, to detach herself from the adage “love is all you need”. Without being sarcastic, she is at her best (in my opinion) when she weaves stories about people who realize that being in “love” is not that important at all. Her romances do end well, yet not due to the influence of a higher power but because the couples involved had the chance to realize who is the right partner for them to spend the rest of their lives with. Her heroines are usually headstrong, independent and reasonable; they may act on a whim or following their heart, but it is when they listen to reason - or are pushed to do so - that they finally get their happy ending.

Warning: spoilers ahead.

The Cinderella Trope

Arabella, and also Friday’s Child and The Convenient Marriage deal with the subject of a poor, or at least modest-living, female from a good family being launched into London’s high society by a strike of good fortune. In the latter two novels, this includes for them the chance to buy a heap of beautiful new clothes, strongly reminding of the Cinderella trope.

But Heyer would not be who she is if the novels would not be original in their own way: Arabella, far from being a modest, kind girl, pretends to be a rich heiress in order to “show his place” to a man who believed she wanted to ensnare him due to his wealth; Hero from Friday’s Child and Horatia from The Convenient Marriage both do not end but begin the story through marriage, and the plot unfolds as they slowly realize (and their respective spouses, too) that they have married the right person after all.

Finding Love in an Unexpected Place

In The Convenient Marriage, the Earl of Rule is ready to marry a certain girl to make a match, arranged years earlier, with a poor but very aristocratic family; it is on meeting her younger sister that he realizes “he does want to ally himself with the family”, to put it in his words.

In The Quiet Gentleman, as he has to deal with conspiracies and attempted murder, the protagonist Gervase Frant learns to put his trust in a female he first found dull, and who is not aristocratic the way he is.

In Sylvester or The Wicked Uncle, the Duke of Salford is at first disappointed by Phoebe, the girl his mother and her friend had chosen for him, and she doesn’t like him any better; they have to live through a number of adventures, together with friends and family, until they realize that they fit together perfectly.

In Sprig Muslin, Sir Gareth Ludlow overcomes his grief over his lost fiancé due to being responsible for Amanda, a girl of similar temper, and getting the chance to compare her to Lady Hester, a shy, unremarkable woman whom he liked but did not appreciate enough before. A beloved theme of Heyer’s romances is brought up here, too: having the same sense of humour shows to be indicative for two people fitting together.

In Charity Girl, notorious bachelor Viscount Desford gets involved both with a very beautiful girl named Lucasta and another, quite helpless damsel named Cherry, but none of them turn out to be right; instead, he finally realizes that Henrietta, an old friend of his, whom he had not wanted to marry years earlier, is the right mate for him after all.

In Faro’s Daughter, Mr Ravenscar gets interested in Deborah, a girl who works in a gaming house, which makes her free game to all men who visit it although she is a decent girl and only wants to earn a living for herself and the aunt who owns to place. A parallel is made through the protagonist’s niece Arabella, forever being in love with one guy or another but then refraining at the last moment. Finally, her uncle gives her a sound advice: that only if she will meet a man whom she will be ready to introduce to her family, she will know that he is the right man.

In False Colours, twin brothers Kit and Evelyn literally switch their places, one of them finding the right girl in the process by getting to know his brother’s prospected bride.

In The Foundling, the Duke of Sale is all but pushed to make an offer for Harriet, a girl he likes but is not in love with; but as he lives through some adventures and meets Belinda, who is very beautiful but also superficial, he learns to appreciate his future bride better and to realize that he would not want to be married to anyone else.

The Wrong Match

In An Infamous Army, Lady Worth wants to match up Colonel Charles Audley with Lucy, but then has to find out that the sweet, innocent-looking damsel is already secretly married, and that the temperamental Lady Barbara whom she had not liked for him is exactly what he needs since she has courage and straightforwardness.

Not Falling in Love at All

In A Civil Contract, Viscount Lynton, heir of an impoverished family, marries the shy and average-looking Jenny, the daughter of a rich, vulgar merchant to keep his family out of debt; she loves him but is aware of the fact that he does not requite her feelings, since he secretly loves Julia, a beautiful woman who does not have much money of her own. It is only as the plot thickens, the woman he loves marries another man and his wife gives him a son that he realizes “his Jenny” is the best wife he could have found.

Falling Out of Love

In Friday’s Child, Lord Sheringham believes to be in love with Isabella, an acclaimed beauty, until he has lived for a while with Hero, the young woman he had married on a whim. “Bella with her airs and graces, her moods and her sharp tongue! No, thank you!”

Isabella on the other hand was about to contrive a brilliant match, but good sense makes her refuse it after all. “When I thought how my life would be, that I would have to spend the rest of my life with him… oh, I could not!”

In The Grand Sophy, Cecilia is besotted with Augustus, a very romantic but unreliable young man. After a trying period spent nursing her small sister, who was critically ill, she finally realizes that the less romantic but more worthy Lord Charlbury who had offered for her in the first place is a much better partner for her.

In Cotillon, Kitty enters a fake engagement to teach a lesson to Jack, the man she is in love with; but when she comes to London for a while and learns more about him and the world, she slowly realizes that she was in love with a figment of her imagination, and that Freddy, the man she is engaged to, is a much better person.

“He seemed like all the heroes in the book, but I soon found that he is not like them at all.” “No. I’m afraid I ain’t either.” “Of course not! No one is.”

Heyer’s chief oeuvre in this respect is in my opinion Bath Tangle, where Serena and Lord Rotherham, both hot-tempered protagonists get engaged to someone much gentler than them, only for them to realize that they would not be happy with them. The heroine’s fiancé Hector gives her up amicably, having also found a much better life partner.

“You are a grander creature than I even imagined.” “And you are the kindest and best of men, but not my love!”

The “Pride and Prejudice” Trope

The themes of Jane Austen’s famous novel is upended in Faro’s Daughter, where it is the man who has a strong prejudice against the girl, whom he inevitably believes to be a scheming, money-grabbing minx because she earns her living in a gaming house. The girl on the other hand has strong personal pride and would never accept money from anyone, or accept marrying or becoming the mistress of a man for whom she doesn’t care. Far from declaring his devotion to her, the man insults the woman repeatedly, before he finally realizes his mistake and also that she is the right mate for him.

The Beauty and the Beast Trope

In Black Sheep, the protagonists Abby and Fanny are aunt and niece, both at the same time in love with two members of the Calverleigh family who both have a bad reputation; but while Beauty (the niece) has to realize that the man she had fallen for was only after her fortune, non-Beauty (the not quite so pretty, but intelligent aunt) realizes that the uncommon Miles who gives nothing on society’s standards does care for people, and that he is the broad-minded, worldly-wise partner she exactly needs.

In Venetia, the person falling out of love is a Edward Yardley, a sidekick, who really ends up being disillusioned; but the story had made it abundantly clear that he had been a fool all along to believe that he and the protagonist would suit. Venetia, the Beauty, has to find out that she cannot tame the Beast Lord Damerel, and that she wouldn’t want to do it additionally. The Beast is not a bad man but someone who does not fit in with society; which makes him ideal for her since she does not, either.

This trope is brought to a climax in Lady of Quality, where the protagonist Annis, who never felt the slightest interest in the gentlemen she met, on getting to know the rude but protective and straightforward Oliver finally gets to fall in love, despite the fact that they argue frequently. At one time she muses that “Surely kindred spirits did not quarrel?” only to then add mentally, with a little self-irony, “How mawkish!”

If you are tired of Jane Austens’ prim heroines and the Brontë sister’s drama, I invite you: give Georgette Heyer a try. Her novels are entertaining but neither flat nor sentimental, and I always find new layers and aspects in them when I reread them after a few years. Her heroes of course live in an idealized world, but it’s just what you might need after a hard day’s work. 😊

#historical romance #literature #georgette heyer #jane austen #bronte sisters #english literature #critical reading #romance #reading #entertainment

[kprdotexe]

Hello. Are you going to write your opinion on Tagatha?

I have no clue how old this ask is. Imma be so honest, I'm only now learning how this system works but YEAH SURE I'LL TALK ABOUT TAGATHA

haven't touched the books in a hot year or so but i remember some spirit waking up inside me and making a google slide so i have guidance, let's allow my brain to catch up as i read this.

Disclaimer, I think the book should have ended at 3. I think any further kinda rips away the happy ending those three had so my opinions are that of the first three books.

Now, I enjoy a good enemies to lovers as much as the next person but my _god_ did I not like it with Tagatha at all. They just never seemed to really get each other??? The constant bickering was never really cute to me and maybe I just need to reread it, but it always seemed like their romance was very surface deep.

They were both kids— teenagers basically at this point in the story both in societies that glorified one side and villianised the other, so their opinions and way of going about things reflected that. Honest to god? Great set up, didn't like the execution. I feel like it's because it never felt like Tedros was even meant to be a love interest in the first book.

Tedros had a lot of good traits to him in the first book (heck, mans became my favourite character when I started writing him because I found him and his story really interesting) but he just never felt like a person to me at that point. It never felt like this love story that made me want to ship them, it just... set the stage of everything really well.

He was there to be an obstacle, at least to me! One of the many things Sophie had been dreaming of her whole life but then couldn't have. From a technical stand-point, I could only imagine Tedros and Agatha being together to further add to Sophie's anomosity and jealousy and further show that the girls were in the right schools.

Agatha was a princess, in her Good School with her Prince who she would then marry and make her a Queen. Agatha was meant to be the best, both because she obviously was and to give a good subversion of tropes, and Tedros fit the bill.

And maybe that's the intention and if so, okay! but it never appealed to me as all.

Their original relationship felt a fair bit rushed as well. While confidence in a person does make them more attractive, does it really just erase all the previous history they had?

Like okay, if we're relying on Tedros just being a himbo and focusing more on the pretty face (something I despise mind you) alright, fine but Agatha? She also lets bygones be bygones, forgets all the valid arguments and the reasonable dislike she had for Tedros? Seriously?

Their dislikes of the other were valid! And even when they did good things or things that kinda went against what they thought, how would they be sure y'know? They never talked. Never had a moment where they sat down and just tried to understand each other and that was highkey the worse part of it all.

I always thought it'd be something nice to have the two learn from each other, or rather grow with the other because they both have very harsh views on the other gender— based on upbringing both harsh and limiting but they always just fell back into the habit of just assuming the worse of each other. And maybe I'm too aro for this and maybe the book is just a product of the time (I still didn't like it then though) but I never got the arguing like a married couple thing.

Why is that cute? Like yeah, sometimes spending time with one another can have you learning new potentially annoying things about each other that you dislike but my god, not a scrap of understanding out of either of them? I guess that's how you can tell they're young.

The worst part of their bickering as well is they never actually work through a good few of their issues! The plot (or the Storian, I suppose) just moves them along to the next thing so they have to work together and thank god they can manage that at least.

In the grander scheme of things, it just sucks for the both of them! They're kinda just nudged towards each other by fate and just stuck together because the Omniscient Magic Pen said they were meant to be and they just rushed into it.

So, that's my opinion on them. I like them both! But I just don't ship them. Honestly, I think they belong with other people. (Maybe prioritise some healing from past trauma and deconstruction of some core beliefs before yall jump into relationships but that's just me.)

#school for good and evil #agatha of woods beyond #sge tedros #tedros of camelot #sge agatha #character analysis #i don't touch this blog for more than a year and i come back with this #what you do /lh #if i got something horrendously wrong forgive me and correct me it's been a time #is he back? is he writing? who knows !! #he writes a bit give him so time to catch up

[ndostairlyrium]

Some wholesome ask? ✨

7 for everyone, 28 for Ankh and Bonbon, 31 for Kerry, 35 for Ela and 37 for Len! :3

HI ** 💛

Laughing bc I envision something dreadful for all of them

7 - [The Bunch] What is their favourite movie, or a movie they would enjoy?

Elanor: Probably an epic fantasy, or something from the 80s. Labyrinth is the first that comes to mind, but she'd be a hardcore fan of The Lord of the Rings as well. Her favorite character would be Aragorn and she would totally wear a necklace with the one ring unironically.

Kerry: Whatever makes him laugh and have a good time. Airplane or one of The Naked Gun movies would be good candidates. But also a "romantic flick with a twist" would do (catch him crying and fangirling @ Keanu Reeves in The Lake House). Also, Julia Roberts is totally a fave!

Ankh: Now, this you won't expect, but in the modern days AU I've written in my brain she's a huge fan of Ducktales. Like, she knows the lines and every episode by heart. She's obsessed with the old and the new series, but also with the Disney ducks in general, so much that she has a lot of first editions and multiple sketches signed by Don Rosa scattered around her house. Magica De Spell is her favorite villain, hands down. Movie wise, I'd say it's either Fantasia or Robin Hood. She's not a Disney adult even if she loves their brand of animation, but these are the movies she enjoys the most. "The snake speaks!! Lmao"

Len: Army of Darkness and Planet Terror are her favorite movies of all time. She's a sucker for a grotesque slasher with some comedy in it, she knows her tropes and when a movie has "horror" and "Bruce Campbell" in the mix she's sold instantly. The less quality FX the better!

28 - [Ankh & Bonbon] What would they do if their favorite pet suddenly fell asleep on their lap?

Oh, Bonbon is a gentleman! He would wait until she wakes up and then bark insistently until she fetches him some carrots.

31 - [Hawke] What would make them blush?

He's not one that flusters easily, mind you, but he's very impressionable when it comes to his crushes doing anything. Ask Fenris to point at a rock, he would sing the praises of how valiantly he raised his finger and think about it fondly for a week straight.

35 - [Elanor] What is something they're ashamed of but others find extremely cute?

Copy-pasting the original answer because I still stand by that:

"Her laugh. It's a syncopated one that has small snorts here and there. She usually "corrects" it by using a deeper tone, or she just covers her mouth and laughs silently. Her life is a try not to laugh challenge without rewards. And considering her LI is, in her words, "the funniest person in Thedas" it's a real torture."

37 - [Leonarda] Give them your credit card for five minutes; what would they buy?

A fuckton of grenades for herself, a couple of mods for Garrus, and a Salarian-shaped plushie for Wrex so he can choke it when he's too stressed. She would probably reach the limit in two minutes << also now I have to pay for her monthly Fornax subscription fee

#long post #ask meme #wholesome ask meme #ankh #kerry #elanor cousland #feat. #lenore shepard #aka leonarda #in truth bon is an imovable object she can't do anything until he wakes up << #fenris: *exists*; hawke: 'holy shit do that again'

[unluckyhoneybee]

Hiii, could I get something where you are briss sister and have to stay with Thomas for a while because of an impromptu job offer you get?? Some good old brother best friend trope + our favourite roommates trope basically. I'd like prompt 7 "This wasn't supposed to happen" from the random prompt list after a heavy make out session in the sofa.

Random Prompt List.

Blue: Brother's best friend. + Roommates

7. "This wasn't supposed to happen".

"So... Is this the last one?" Thomas asked leaving the box in the corner with all the others.

"Yeah" You nodded checking everything. "Thank you."

"It's nothing. The guest room is empty, I have no problem with having you around. For as long as you need"

That was how it started. A job offer that you couldn't ignore had come out of nowhere. But the job was in San José and you had barely 4 days to find a place to live and move and everything. While desperately talking with your brother, he told you about Thomas. Only half an hour later, you had room to stay in San José for as long as you needed to.

"Okay, this is your home now. Just... do whatever you want" Thomas said trying to sound cool. But you both ended up laughing. He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms on his chest. "No, seriously. Feel at home."

"No rules?" You asked with a little smile that sent him spiralling into thoughts he knew he shouldn't be having.

"One rule"

You nodded.

"No guys" He said. Was it selfish? Yeah, obviously. But he wouldn't lay there while you had some random dude in his guest room.

Somehow, you understood. It was common sense.

"Yeah sure. I wasn't going to, you know?" You shrugged. "I won't stay here for that long. I can take a few days without it" You winked at him and Thomas almost died.

You grew comfortable in the flat quickly, Thomas made it easy and you were sure Brendan had something to do with it. You could picture him giving his friend a talk about taking care of you and all of that.

That day, you opened the door and he was already on the sofa.

"YN! C'mon. It's going to start."

You chuckled and hurriedly left all your stuff in the hall. You didn't even bother changing clothes. You sat on the sofa and stole his Pepsi.

"Hey"

"Shh. It has been a long day"

He laughed and got comfortable, watching you with a smile. What had started as only a few days, was now a few weeks of you staying with him. It was more difficult than you thought. There were no available flats for you to rent on your own, all of them were too expensive or not suitable. But Thomas hadn't complained and now you had slowed the search.

"Why did you arrive so late?" He asked. "You almost miss the start of the game"

Whenever Briss would play, you guys would watch it together.

"Um... Sally, the girl that drives me here at night, called sick today"

Thomas frowned and watched you.

"So I had to take the bus" You simply said.

"I could have picked you, you know?"

You smiled and shook your head. "It's fine, you already do a lot"

"No, YN. For real. Just call me next time." He insisted.

You looked at him. He was serious and it was really cute actually. You sighed.

"Okay. But I'm telling you, there is no..."

"Bullshit" He chuckled "You almost miss this. It's a tradition"

You giggled and left the Pepsi on the table. Then, you leaned back. You hadn't checked and you laid over his arm, which was casually dropped over the back of the sofa. "Sorry" You muttered.

You had both moved quickly, putting some distance and clearing your throats. Thomas was attractive and so were you. You were sharing a flat, living together and doing domestic stuff together the whole time. You had seen him laying there with only sweats and he had seen you walking around in those comfy pants you loved so much and that left little to the imagination. There was something dragging you close but you had both tried to ignore it.

Silence fell and you tried to focus on the game. At some point, Thomas had gotten up and came back with some drinks.

"Thanks, Bords" You muttered. "You are a fantastic host"

He giggled. "You are nice too, follow the rules and all of that" He had said that on purpose. He needed to know. It was eating him alive.

"What rule? The no boys rule?"

He nodded. "The only rule"

"Well, it's not hard."

"You said you could take a few days and it has been weeks, I'm impressed" He was because he had gone through it too.

"Well, it's not as if I couldn't meet them somewhere else" You said not taking your eyes from the screen. Briss was playing really well.

Thomas tensed. You had been seeing people. And he had been here thinking that... Fucking shit.

"What?" You were looking at him with a weird face. He had a very very disgusted expression.

"I didn't..." He muttered and frowned.

"What?" You insisted.

"I thought you weren't seeing anyone"

You got goosebumps on your skin. Was he jealous? Thomas Bordeleau

"Wait..." Was he jealous? Thomas Bordeleau was jelaous? Because you were seeing people? "Thomas"

He looked at you and clenched his fist.

"Aren't you seeing..."

"No. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable by bringing people here and..."

"You didn't though of meeting somewhere else"

He pressed his lips together.

"Are you jealous?"

He lowered his eyes and your heart went crazy. Thomas was fucking jealous, he was even mad. He felt stupid.

"Thomas"

When he turned to look at you, you cupped his face and pressed your lips to his, making him groan and grab your leg. With your hands on his face and your lips so sweetly kissing him, Thomas couldn't contain himself. He pushed you so you were now laying on the sofa. Your body responded to his so quickly, your legs opened for him giving the enough space so he could climb over your body and deepen the kiss. It escalated quickly, so quickly. Your hands were now under his shirt and his hips were grinding into yours so nicely. You were both a mess, biting, sucking the other's lips, moaning and gasping for air.

Until the TV brought you back to reality. Brendan had scored. You pere both panting for air and looking at the TV.

"This wasn't supposed to happen" You muttered. You felt guilty.

Thomas looked down at you and cupped your face. "Do you want to stop?"

"That's the problem, I don't"

#random prompt list #thomas bordeleau #tb #blurb #nhl

[all-eyes-no-dragon]

How about we try reincarnating/isekaiing someone who isn't a salaryman or otaku NEET

Let's isekai a jock who cant believe this shit is happening, someone who doesn't know about anime or game tropes and doesn't immediately assimilate to the new world

Someone who won't just ignore their past life to the point where viewers even forget they're from another world because it just isn't relevant

Isekai has a lot of potential but they keep using the same rinse and repeat tired dry formula

Isekai people and not have others swoon and randomly fall at their feet for absolutely no reason despite the MCs having personalities as flavourful as the sand in the sandbox at the play park

Isekai more women, old people, little kids, uh college students maybe? I don't think I've ever seen a college student be isekaied before

Where's "I Just Wanted To Get My Degree In Archeology But Now The Prince From Another World Won't Stop Proposing Because He Thinks I'm A Goddess"?

Where's "Grandpa Retired But Fell Down A Hole So Now He's The Ultimate Baker In Another World"?

Where's "My Parents Hired A Fairy To Come To My Birthday Party But It Ended Up Being The Real Deal And Now I'm Stuck In Another World"?

Where's "I Scour This New World, Searching For A Way Home"?

Personally, "I Don't Have Time For An Adventure, I Need To Be Back By Dinner" sounds like a charmer to me.

Down with lookalike bland harem protagonists with no personality, dimensions and the exact same jobs (or in the case of the lack thereof)/hobbies (gaming, or however they want to spin it). Heck, these guys are basically all going to the same worlds as well so they've basically all got the same stories too. A shame.

This is why people hate isekai, which I think is a shame really, cuz I love the concept. Just,, I prefer to cherry pick the genre for gems

Side note: let isekai protags say weird shit that no one understands because

👏 cultural 👏 barrier 👏

C'mon, this is a different world, there's gotta be some basic stuff the protag might say and be met with blanket stares

Like in re zero apples are called appas

Totally small stupid and inconsequential but u look stupid af if u call it anything but an appa

Now, if u were reincarnated and had to grow from a child, I suppose u would have time to assimilate to the culture.

Ugh, but I wish they would let reincarnations stay kids longer. If their old world is gonna become obsolete, I want to see them slowly lose that. Forget people's faces, the names of their coworkers, what street they lived on. Forget the smell of their favourite flower, the taste of their favourite food. Forget what the texture of jeans feel like. Make me feel emotions.

Let's see them weird out their new parents by not being used to the New World's culture. Let's see people shrug off them accidentally talking about stuff because wowiee, kids say the darnest things

Stop having isekai kids gather 10 wives at the tender age of 9 :)

I like the MC of the webcomic "The Beginning After The End" 's stance on the dubious subject of having romantic relationships as a reincarnator (or at least, I like it so far. I'm mid 100s into the comic so idk if they about to switch up)

Basically the MC died as an adult so he sees all the kids "his age" as children and he even said a line about how he would be a criminal if he got romantic with one of the girls who like him 🤣

I guess it's up to self perception? Like, this body is 13 but my brain is 45. Which am I actually, then?

Let reincarnators be confused about this as well, cuz even irl people debate this a whole lot (cuz it's just one of those "well, technically" things. I think the fact that we even have to go "technically" to excuse it is a bit of an ouch tho)

I'm open to other views and counter arguments on any of the things I've just said, tbh. These are just some things I think are missed opportunities. Like, people will keep watching and watching it even if it's the same thing (why do you think there's so many "Peter Parker's Field Trip To Stark Industries" fics? People will continually consume the same thing slightly tweaked if they like the premise enough). I just think changes to how we approach isekai might bring in some new viewership and increased positive opinions on the genre

Also, the comically long titles are a fun thing but I know some people abhor them. They want titles that are creative and don't basically just summarise the show's premise. Because, with a title like that, it shows a lack of creativity and ingenuity. Not to say that it needs to be toned down all the way, just reduced to keywords.

"Undead Unluck"

"Spy x Family"

"Dragon Ball"

"First Night With The Duke"

"Little Shop Of Horrors"

"Villain To Kill"

"Pride & Prejudice"

"Cirque Du Freak"

"Mirror Image"

(Yes, I did just write down the names of random things I like. 3 animes, 3 books, 2 webcomics and a,, movie/play(?) I watched it as a play, anyways. okay, the 3animes is kind of a lie, I'm impatiently waiting for undead unluck to come out as an anime. ive never consumed any content for it but the trailer)

These titles give you a vague idea of important symbols/things in the narrative, no? But you don't know exactly was going to happen.

But I'm only speaking for some people, I find the long titles to be funny and a bit intriguing. Of course, I wouldn't mind some good old fashioned original names being brainstormed. These thoughtlessly long titles allow all these different producers to just pump out what is, at its core, basically the same ideas, just switched up a bit so the homework doesn't look copied

#anime #isekai #rants n rambles #anime rant #ridiculously long titles #story ideas #half joking #suggestions #people are getting sick of it #the same thing #over and over #spice it up #not just teenage NEET gamer boys who couldn't give a fcuk about reality #though I will mention that #re zero #did an excellent job at making subaru not just one of those guys #I like that he has a personality #and I thought that #naofumi #from #shield hero #was really sweet at the start.. kinda wish he stayed like that but the spin off exists so I'll just live vicariously through that #I like #that time i got reincarnated as a slime #mikami satoru (? I think that's how u spell it) was a really charming down to earth funny kind of guy even b4 he died #and its not as if his past life was forsaken #its a simple show #but I think it does the trick #thank you for coming to my rant #sorry for the ramble

[slashingdisneypasta]

So I clearly missed some things due to my severe lack of activeness on this hellsite (derogatory) but I'd very much like to know more about Then He Got Rough if you feel comfortable sharing.

If not though, that's totally okay!! Either way, hope you're doing well, my friend 💜🙏🏻

!!!! Thats my Original Work!! I occasionally mention it on here, but I do need to be quite careful about what I say cuz theirs a lotta stuff in it that is meant to be a surprise XD But goddddddddddddddd I love talking about it, so thank you for asking!! ^^

Basically it is a small town murder mystery, but using Slasher Movie Tropes. Its also got a lotta platonic love and other more complicated kinds of relationships because I'm, of course, aro and I need that shit XD Here's a basic blurb I made up for someone else who asked one time ^^

Hallie (the virgin) meets Edward Brown (the killer) and they hit it off- she's exactly the kinda girl he likes; friendly, kinda reserved, and they have... err- certain things from their pasts... in common, it turns out. And to her, Edward's the perfect guy, too! He's a young English teacher at the high school and he's got this skinny Clark Kent thing about him?? Awkward, and funny. She doesn't realise he's a part of the little town's most powerful (and tight-lipped) family, the Bamford's (He was adopted into it- Edward Bamford-Brown), until she tells her best friend and roommate Maggie (the whore) about him. Maggie immediately develops a bad taste in her mouth when it comes to Edward. She goes rogue and decides to investigate, employing Hallie's family doctor, Arthur (the scholar), and his old friend/new roommate combo; anxious ex-con Rodney (the fool), who just so happens to be Edwards adoptive aunt Carla Bamford's ex husband. Doors are opened for Maggie into the world of the Bamford's through Arthur and Rodney, and Winnie Bamford (the athlete) later on, and she uncovers some bone chilling secrets about everyone in this family, and everyone a r o u n d them, too, that make her determined to save her friend before its too late.

**You might also be interested to know that, in my head, Rodney (Who is a very charismatic, but very anxious man who used to do some pretty bad things but feels terrible (he knows his behaviour had everything to do with self-loathing) is really truly trying to clean up his act these days post-divorce; rooming with his old friend Arthur and working at the grocery store as its the only job he could get) is played by a more middle-aged Robert Englund XDD (Closer to Professor Wexler in Urban Legend then Inkubus) . Arthur is played by Brad Dourif XDD (so yes- freddy kruger and chucky XD Of course.)

Some little tid-bits I can/want to share also:

The Bamford Family Line-Up:

Mrs Emily Bamford: The matriarch. A cold-hearted snake woman. She pretty much only loves Edward.

Mayor Richard Bamford: He and Em were highschool sweethearts back in the day but broke up when he left to pursue politics in a big city-- but mysteriously came back and married Emily a few months later despite everyone knowing he was doing so well in the city?? Took the Bamford name and everything. Its rumoured that Emily's parents blackmailed him *cough*. Everyone knows Emily is in charge. Richard always looks kind of like a show pony next to her, despite being actual Mayor.

Carla Bamford: Emily's adopted sister and town journalist. She's kinda lily-livered. The only thing she really stood against the family about was her marriage to Rodney (They didn't approve. He was a damn con), but even that fell apart eventually.

Rodney Hawk (Formally Bamford. They made him take their name but he's got his back, now): I already talked about him XD

Edward Bamford-Brown: THE MAIN VILLAIN. Edward is Emily and Richard's adopted son, the same age as their biological daughter (Winnie. up next) who... well, its no secret- is the favourite. Emily would let him get away with anything. She would help him get away with anything. He can do no wrong, in her eyes.

Winnie Bamford: Emily and Richard's biological daughter. She's an insane freak- they sent her away to boarding school in Georgia but she came back worse, and there are s o many rumours about her in town; Orgies and deviant sexual activity, mostly (most of it is true, too). She has a major thing for 'Uncle Rodney' and makes him very very uncomfortable. On the bright side though?? She's more then happy to fuck things up for her spiteful mother by assisting Maggie to uncover some dark secrets (: She wont make it easy, though 😅 That would be no fun.

Unnamed Bamford Family Member: I cant tell you anything about them, whoops.

And Tom Manning: Richard's best friend, and the town lawyer (Edwards lawyer). So close with Rich and Em (And Winnie and Edward) that he's practically part of the family. I have described him as 'a hot dill pickle in a sharp suit if he was a harvard law graduate'. He's slimy, charismatic and seemingly perfect.

Here are the main characters Looks, if you're interested 😅

(Also another little thing that is really just a convoluted blink-and-you'll-miss-it kind of inside joke- Maggie, who has a huge thing for Arthur and constantly describes his eyes as 'brad dourif-blue', is a major Childs Play fan.

... and hallie loves a nightmare on elm street *cough*. she doesnt really interact with rodney, but during the few times they do, they totally have Something. and when she describes her perfect guy?? its the opposite to edward. its rodney. anyway- )

Anyway, thank you for asking! And reading, if you made it this far XDD Sorry for the word-vomit!! I just really really love this story and I really hope one day I can finish it ^^ <3<3<3<3<3<3

I hope you are doing well too- better then before at least ^^ I hope the time away from Tumblr is doing you well! You're right, it can be a very harmful atmosphere and I'm so proud of you for knowing when you need to take a step back!! 💛💛💛💛💛

#Then He Got Rough

[safetycar-restart]

[🌹valentine's ask ]

imagine none other than house husband!george (my favorite trope) treating his mistress to an elaborate candlelight dinner 😍 with tea and healthy food, of course. no acerbic alcohol or meals dripping in fat. he's dining her like a gentleman, he's giving her a proper massage with those skilled driver hands all night, hell yes. a little striptease attempt to make her laugh on top. maybe she can step on him. maybe he serves the food in kinky handcuffs. heh, who knows.

but! as i said. he is the polite and reserved king of preppy. nothing crude or hypersexualized to be found here, it's not escalating. date night in style! instead: since handsome wants to cozy up with his valentine, it's time to waltz in the living room: dancing is a must. they might not even have sex later on, it's all about the atmosphere and loving eye contact, being chest to chest. it would be so cute if they fell asleep on the couch embraced after watching a comedy movie, nestled under their big blanket.

- george's long legs anon 👕💙delivering the soft hours and apron pics 🍽

Oh my god the George long leg’s anon has actually sent in a George ask???? I never thought this day would come?!?!? But this is amazing and I love it so much.

Firstly, George THRIVES on being a house husband. The house is always in immaculate condition, seriously you have never seen the house not insanely neat and tidy. All George does is clean and cook and workout and get his brains fucked out and he is THRIVING.

Also all the other house wives are so envious of him and his perfect body and his 6AM workout routines in the garden and his cooking and his insanely successful wife who pays for everything. Seriously, they all hate him and George thrives on it.

So yes george is living his best life and of course valentines is basically a national holiday as far as he is concerned. He wakes you with breakfast in bed, which actually isn’t that unusual he does it quite a bit but this time he includes flowers and a little card.

Then he wishes you well for the rest of your day and tells you he has the whole evening planned.

You get home and he’s already in his suit. He even runs out to open the car door for you. He has all your favourite bath products lined up for you to choose from and the bath already running so that you can get clean and change into some fancy clothes for dinner.

He serves you of course, you don’t have to do a thing. It’s a meal he would have been practicing the whole week to make sure it’s perfect.

Maybe he wears his fancy collar the whole time? Cause yes it’s romantic and cute but he’s still your sub and you’re still his mistress and so he wants the collar. He wears an informal collar during the day, but for scenes it’s a leather one. He puts that on for this, because he wants to feel more subby.

And the food is so good!! He put so much effort into it and you can see how happy all the praise you give makes him.

He keeps all his best manners, doesn��t start eating until you do, doesn’t leave the table until you finish, cleans the plates away and tidies up the kitchen while you watch.

Honestly you don’t get expect the dancing at all, but knowing George you honestly should have. It’s the exact type of old fashioned and romantic shit that George loves.

The playlist is one he spend the whole week working on as well, carefully picking each song to make sure it’s all perfect.

And it is!!

You dance for a little while, and of course you’re the one leading him because that’s how this works. He’s smiling the entire time, continually asking for kisses because he just loves being close to you.

Once the dancing is finished, you decide to undress him. He wanted to still take care of you, but he had done such a good job and you saw how much time and effort went into his plans so no. You’re the Dom and you’ve decided you’re going to undress him and kiss every inch of his skin and thank him for an incredible evening.

He’s got tears in his eyes by the time you finish, so happy to have someone like you who lets him live the life he’s always dreamed of.

And then it’s time to cuddle and watch a movie. George falls asleep almost instantly, so tired from working so hard on the plane for the evening.

The sex can wait until the next day.

#sub!george #gr #nsfw. #f!reader #soft soft vibes #👕

[rindecision]

Hello wonderful writer! Thanks so much for tagging me :) Ok so don't know if this counts as a trope but it is certainly one of my favourite things to read. Any of your fics would be amazing! Trope: Eddie wearing something he looks incredibly delectable in I know he's gorgeous in anything but still *sighs*

This one comes in two parts from You Know Where to Find Me - Labor Day '85 It's a little explicit so I'll put it after the break

“Steve?!” Robin's voice carried from down the hall.

“Shit!” Eddie hissed at Steve squeezing his dick a little too hard in shock.

“Shit, sorry,” Steve abruptly dropped it and stood.

They both glanced at the door with guilty eyes when Robin's voice came again. “Are you up here?”

Eddie scrambled to at least pull up his boxers. Steve stared in horror as the knob on the door turned. He'd forgotten to lock it.

“Steeeve?!”

Steve launched for the handle with a speed that displayed his athleticism, catching it before Robin could pull back. The half-inch she managed to open, slammed back into place with a loud clunk.

“What the hell, Steve?” Robin complained.

“You can't come in,” Steve said quickly, keeping a firm grip on the handle.

“And why the hell not?” She rattled the handle. “What are you doing in there?”

“Eddie's naked,” Steve answered.

“Why is he still naked?” There was a small rattle from the handle when she let go. “You two have been gone for a while.”

“I- uh…” Steve looked back at Eddie who had just pulled his wet pants back up, the front of them still entirely undone. Damn he looks good. “Haven't decided which one to lend him yet.”

Second part

Eddie made a disapproving sound that Steve hadn’t heard since the elementary playground. It only made Steve laugh a little harder before popping off the lid and opening the tub. Annoyance aside, Eddie walked up behind Steve and rested his head on his shoulder, looking at the selection of swimwear. There had to be at least a dozen pairs of swim trunks and to his amusement a few speedos. Steve paid no mind to Eddie on his shoulder as he picked up a green speedo. Eddie had seen that one before. It was what Steve wore to swimming competitions.

“What about this?” Steve offered playfully holding it on display. He knew Eddie wasn’t going to accept it, but a small part of him would still have loved to see him in it.

“Fat chance,” he scoffed. “But maybe you should change into them for old time’s sake.” Eddie leaned his weight onto Steve, urging him to do it.

“I’ll pass,” Steve laughed and fought back against the looming weight. He smoothly folded the tiny strip of cloth and put it back in the box. “Anything catch your eye, Munson?”

In fact, something did. He reached under Steve’s arm and dug into the box reaching for a spot of black and red. Steve groaned in annoyance when he flipped the three pairs that were on top of it out of the box in the process. While Steve tried to fix the mess, Eddie stepped back and held up the shorts. They were a long baggy pair of swim trunks with a drawstring. He was pleased to see his guess was right and the red his saw were red, orange, and yellow flame decals up the side. They barely looked used.

“I forgot about those,” Steve chuckled. “I got them as a birthday gift from some relative I’ve never met. Maybe a cousin or an aunt?” he drifted off in thought as he refolded the last pair that fell out of the tub. Before he could ask if Eddie wanted to wear them, he already had one leg in it. He chuckled and took a second to watch Eddie putting them on. He may be on a time limit, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t stop to enjoy the view.

Eddie felt a small wave of embarrassment at Steve watching him so intently. He wanted to say something snarky, but it caught in his throat, so he just put on the trunks as naturally as he could and tied the drawstring.

Steve clicked his tongue in disappointment. “I like you better naked.”

Eddie chuckled awkwardly. “Right back at ya.” He scanned Steve’s body, bummed that it was broken by his short blue swim trunks.

#rins bs #rin's asks #wip exerpt #wip game #wip wednesday #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #fanfiction #fanfic #steddie #gay

[smalltownfae]

I love the scene of Sophie and Calcifer's bargain so much.

For starters, I like Calcifer's description as this terrifying face made of blue fire with green hair, a purple mouth and orange and purple eyes. His voice sounds like fire crackling and Sophie compares it her own, which means it sounds old as a demon ought to be. Not the cute voice from the movie.

Once again it shows awareness of the tropes ("Everything she read showed the extreme danger of making a bargain with a demon") and when Sophie asks if Calcifer is being honest he replies "Not completely" which means he has some kind of honesty about him still.

Then Calcifer drops the first hint (Howl's quite heartless, you know) and Sophie doesn't get it (Sophie did not need telling that Howl was heartless).

Sophie finally agrees to bargain after Calcifer saying he is being exploited, which reminds her of her own situation in the hat shop.

Spells seem to include a lot of stuff that can't be talked about but Calcifer says that the current situation isn't doing him or Howl any good and that if Sophie listens and watches she can solve the mystery.

The scene and chapter end with Calcifer singing and Sophie falling asleep in a way that reminds me of that moment in Fool's Errand when Fitz falls asleep listening to the Fool singing in a foreign language.

"The demon at lenght fell to singing a gentle, flickering little song. It was not in any language Sophie knew"

My favourite books have more in common than you think (and even I am unaware).

#andy rereads hmc #calcifer #sophie hatter