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#may do actual art if her eventually

penguin-scribbles · 1 year

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Dudes I doodled one of my ocs today for the first time in probably years and omg it reminds me of how much I loved drawing her back in the day

#penguin squawks #ocs #may do actual art if her eventually

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paragonrobits · 3 months

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some important calvin and hobbes facts in case you haven't read the original comic strip in a long time or only absorbed stuff on it from memes and out of context bits on here:

Calvin's last name has never been given, and neither has any of his parent's names. This was actually why his uncle Max only showed up for a brief storyline; the creator of the comic, Bill Watterson, ultimately felt that while it was fine to have him as someone for his parents to talk to, it felt far too awkward to never have Max refer to them by name and he never made a return appearance.

The general tone of the comic is fairly light-hearted, with a big emphasis on goofy slapstick comedy contrasted by clever wordplay and often surprising adult-centered jokes that'll hit you like a slap. A big part of the comedy is, as Watterson put it (paraphrased) "It's really funny to me when people express deeply stupid ideas with really fancy terminology." One notable example you might have seen is that one bit where Calvin asks his mom for money to buy a Satan-worshiping rock album and his mom replies that there's nothing genuine about them and they're just putting on the attitude for shock value, and comisserates with Calvin as he deplores that mainstream nihilism can't be trusted. He concludes that childhood is disillusioning.

There is a LOT of criticism of the extreme materialism and selfish mentality of the late 80s, when the comic was initially written. This may go a long way to explain how its aged so well; much of what it criticizes resonates well with people today.

Bill Watterson views comic strips a legitimate form of artwork, and repeatedly fought to have more space to draw more beautiful and artistic backgrounds, which was a very hard fight and unpopular even with other comic strip artists. He eventually did win some compromises and a lot of Calvin And Hobbes' artwork shows it, with the use of space to indicate time as well as a sharp contrast between the often plain environments of mundane life contrasted by the wildly beautiful imagery of Calvin's imagination (which often sports realistic depictions in an art shift of sorts).

Hobbes is explicitly not an imaginary friend, by word of Watterson himself. We don't know WHAT he is exactly, and Hobbes is apparently unaware of the strange nature of his reality; people look at him and only see an ordinary stuffed tiger plushie, but he has a tangible effect on the world that would be physically impossible for Calvin to do on his own. He's apparently been around for a while, and was apparently around when Calvin was a young baby.

On that note; Hobbes has implicitly killed (notably treated as both a gag and also with the vibe of 'he's a tiger, duh') and while he doesn't do it again on-screen, he doesn't have any moral issues about it. Calvin claims that he's never had trouble bringing Hobbes to school because the last time he did, Hobbes killed and ate a bully named Tommy Chestnut and simply comments that it was gross and he needed a bath. Calvin's tried to repeat this again, but Hobbes was grossed out at the thought having to eat a kid raw and not being allowed to use an oven first, or complaining that children are too fattening.

Hobbes became gradually less human-like in body language and more like an actual cat in both body language and behavior; this was due to Watterson drawing more inspiration from his cat, who also inspired a lot of Hobbes' running gags, such as pouncing on Calvin when he got home. Several years into the syndication of the strip, Watterson's cat passed away, and he did a tribute to her with a comic strip of the two of them agreeing to try to dream together so they can keep playing when they have to sleep; Watterson's commentary (if I recall right), remarks on his cat: "We can see each other again in dreams."

#calvin and hobbes #queued

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ssavaart · 4 months

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Sometimes You Have to Make 100 BAD Drawings To Get 1 GOOD One

(Earlier this year, a publisher asked me if I'd be interested in writing a book on art. As we discussed it... they asked me to "give it a try" and this is one of two tests I did. I don't consider myself a writer, really, so this is just "in my own voice". I wound up turning down the offer... but would love to know your thoughts on this. Thanks)

Drawing something good. Something you like. It’s… elusive. Especially when you’re just starting out.

But, here’s the thing. You have good art in you. I promise. You just have to get to it and it’s stuck under a bunch of bad art. Really bad art.

When I was younger, I would draw every day. Filling up sketchbooks with doodles and sketches and I hated ALL of them.

Page 01: Crap

Page 02: Crap

Page 03: Crap

Page 04: Worse than Crap

Page 05: What even is that?

Page 06: Ugh

And it was just downhill from there…

But… somewhere around like page 100… I made something that… “wasn’t crap”. I actually didn’t hate it.

And that gave me courage to keep going. That one drawing made it all worth it. I was cured. I was now an expert. All of my art would be great from now on.

Oh… if only.

The next drawing was worse than any other drawing before it.

How??? I just made ART! like 5 minutes before that. I got all the bad drawings out! How did my art just go from Van Gogh to Van NO???

Honestly? I… got lucky. That one good drawing? Total fluke. Dumb luck. Sheer Happenstance.

Doing 100 drawings didn’t suddenly make me an expert. It couldn’t.

Have you ever heard of the saying “If a million monkeys type on a million typewriters for a million years, they’ll eventually write Shakespeare”?

I was those monkeys and that drawing was my Shakespeare.

I just pooped out enough bad art that eventually sheer luck was going to mean I may make something really good.

And I’m TOTALLY okay with that. I was 11. I’m not a prodigy. I don’t have any special gifts. But what I did have was… a taste for how making good art felt.

Seeing that one good drawing made me want more. Like my first time tasting chocolate ice cream. I was hooked.

So, I made 100 more bad drawings. Maybe more. And, guess what? ANOTHER great drawing emerged!

Another Shakespeare from this 11 year old monkey!!!! Huzzah!

From then on… I knew that all I had to do was keep banging away at that typewriter (I’m still on the million monkey thing… bear with me) and I would get rewarded with another masterpiece.

Week after week. Month after month. I would fill up my sketchbooks with the most horrific, amateurish, incomprehensible art… and, sure enough, 1 of every 100 drawings would not suck.

I would show it to my mom and she would say “Oh! That’s wonderful!” and when she tried to turn the pages to see more, I would quickly SNATCH it out of her hands and run back into the shadows like Gollum hiding his “Precious” from prying eyes.

I dare not let her see the monstrosities that came before the work of genius.

And… this went on. For years. Predictably. Rhythmically.

Until, one day… my 75th drawing was really good.

How? It was 25 drawings early! That’s not how it was supposed to work. That wasn’t the plan.

But there it was. A really amazing drawing of a spaceship I came up with out of my head. It had lasers and a cockpit and wings and…It was glorious. And it was totally unexpected.

Maybe NOW I was an expert and I no longer needed to make bad art? Would today be the day I would only make masterpieces?

I quickly turned the page and began to draw what would soon be my second greatest work of art and… NOPE.

Still crap.

Hm. But… something was different. It was still crap. But… it wasn’t as “crappy” as the other crap.

I grabbed my previous sketchbooks and looked at the bad drawings from previous years and… guess what? My older bad drawings were WORSE than my newer bad drawings!

Apparently, the more I drew… the better my BAD drawings got too.

Okay. So. I drew 75 more “not as crappy” bad drawings and… predictably… I made another great drawing!

I was… IMPROVING.

This went on for years. I went to high school. Then art school. I hated MOST of my art… but as I practiced… the number of BAD art I had to make to get to the GOOD art got lower and lower. Soon it was 50 bad pieces for 1 good one. Then 25. Then 10.

It took decades when I noticed… I liked my art more often than not.

It was a complete surprise. I was in my 40’s when this happened. I was SO conditioned to just accept I was going to hate my art that I hadn’t noticed that I had made 5 paintings that didn’t suck. IN A ROW!!!

Unheard of!

But, there it was. 5 good paintings. One right after the other.

The 6th one was complete trash. Tossed it in the garbage.

But, the 7th one? I liked. And the 8th. And the 9th.

I’m now 54 and I know I still have SO much bad art in me. I can feel it. Always ready to pop up and ruin my day.

But, I “pooped out” so much bad art over the years that I’m not really worried about those pop up bad art surprises. I know it’s just temporary.

I like my art now. And that’s because I got MOST of the bad art out of me and into those old sketchbooks.

I know it may seem daunting doing 100 bad drawings just to get to 1 good one. But… if you love that feeling of making that one GOOD piece of art… you need to be patient and get the bad ones out. They’re blocking the good ones. Keeping them deep inside you.

So, crack open that sketchbook. Poop out those bad pieces of art and never look back.

You’ll thank me in like 40 years or so. I promise.

(Oh. And sorry for all the poop references. I’m still that 11 year old when it comes to humor)

Poop.

#making art #creativity #artists #creating #art advice

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watatsumiis · 1 year

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Sitting in their lap (part 1)

Exactly what it says on the tin, how various Genshin characters would react to a reader who just decides to sit on their lap randomly!

Content: Gender neutral reader (referred to as 'you'), described/implied to be physically smaller than most of the characters (simply because I am and that's how I project, but if you'd like an alternate version, send me an ask and I'll whip it up!), pre-established platonic relationships (though this may border into romantic if you consider physical affection to be that way, so be warned).

Characters: Albedo, Al Haitham, Ayato, Arlecchino, Capitano, Childe.

Albedo just sort of... lets it happen. He's got no qualms about you making yourself comfortable in his lap - unless you start to get in the way, in which case he might just politely try and redirect you elsewhere. He isn't particularly fidgety or squirmy, and he finds that the pressure of your weight in his lap actually helps him concentrate a little better, and sometimes he'll let you stay, even long after he's finished up whatever he might be working on. Be warned, though, he may rope you into holding art or writing supplies for him! He doesn't care if others see, he's never really been one to care all that much about what others think or say. If it's benefiting you both, there's no real reason to stop it.

Al Haitham gets pretty irritated the first time you plonk down in his lap like you have every right to sit there. He's almost downright rude about it, making snide little remarks and grumbling to himself about how you're in the way - you may find that he just outright boots you off if you're somewhere where others might see you (especially Kaveh). As long as you stand your ground, though, he'll eventually settle for it, and he may deny it but sometimes he sits a little further out from his desk, just so you have space to slip into his lap and snuggle up to him if you so desire. If you ask him about the sudden change of heart, he'll quote something about how pressure can help the parasympathetic nervous system kick in, and how humans are a social species and how he's read that physical closeness every once in a while is good for physical and mental health. Damn know-it-all.

Ayato openly adores it. He has a lot of paperwork to do on a day-to-day basis, and any excuse to have some silent company is good enough for him. He can be absently fidgety, twirling your hair around his fingers or rubbing a loose part of your clothing gently - he hardly even seems to notice that he's doing it at all. He's ambidextrous, so you have a lot of freedom in how you decide to sit, he's happy to work around you, so long as you aren't too loud or distracting. You may even find that every once in a while when he knows he'll be swamped with paperwork, he might call you into his office and subtly try to goad you into sitting with him (while making it seem as if it was your own idea all along, cheeky thing he is). The pressure and physical closeness of someone else helps him concentrate on the tedious, repetitive papers he works on.

Arlecchino can be... finicky. It largely depends on her mood and what sort of day she's had whether or not she'll allow you to sit on her lap. She's pretty touchy on the days she allows you to sit in her lap, constantly adjusting your position and tugging you closer to herself - if you didn't know any better, you'd say she was actually enjoying this, but she vehemently denies it, citing the fact that she figured you were in need of comfort and she was just trying to provide it, or that she just hadn't switched out of 'working with the children at the orphanage' mode. She may scold you if you wriggle around too much, or boot you off with very little rhyme or reason, so it's a bit of a gamble if you decide to try and settle in with her for the long run.

Capitano silently takes it. No protests, no comment, nothing, he just leans back in his chair and adjusts his position so it's as comfortable for you as it could possibly be (which is surprisingly nice, considering all the armour he wears). He won't complain, even if you won't stop wriggling around or chattering or playing with his hair or the chains that hang off of his plate mail. He quickly gets very good at reading your intent, and eventually he seems to realise what you want the moment you step in the room, and he'll just silently push his chair back and give his thigh a pat like an open invitation. He may occasionally use you as a chin-rest, or wrap his big arms gently around you if you seem to be getting restless, but otherwise he's silent and hands-off.

Childe is a little all over the place. He loves the idea of you sitting in his lap, he loves physical affection, but in practice, he can't stay still for more than a few minutes without his senses going haywire, and it won't be long until he's bothering you, asking you a million questions or fidgeting with your clothes or accessories in a manner that's downright disconcerting. He never gets any paperwork or anything done when anyone else is in the room, let alone so close to him, but he loves it anyways. He'll chatter away excitedly about anything and everything that comes to mind as he snuggles up to you and smiles, glad that you came to him, of all people, in your quest for affection.

Please don't repost, steal, copy or otherwise plagarise my writing! This includes posting translations to other sites.

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alexiethymia · 6 months

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Ka Zuigetsu

(spoilers for the manga, LN, WN you name it)

Jinshi or rather Zuigetsu is such an interesting character for me because of the dichotomy. We're initially introduced to him as someone with a lot of pride in his looks, confident, mature beyond his years. Later on, we find that his true self is quite self-depreciating and childish.

He doesn't have an attachment to power, nor his looks. He's actually not the arrogant lord Maomao initially thinks he is because he's open to learning and taking the advice of those who know more than him. And while this feeds into his complex that he's surrounded by eccentrics who are extraordinarily good and excel at one thing (the entire Ra Clan, Maomao included, Basen etc.) he's no slouch himself!

I mean Jinshi doesn't think much of himself considering himself a jack of all trades, but what a wide variety of trades it is - he can beat Basen using skill instead of force, he beat the Emperor at Go at the tender age of fourteen and this is with the Emperor having been taught by the Sage who is one of the only two people known to have beat Rakan, he dances with such grace that foreign envoys can only think of him as a goddess, he's enough of a quick study with medicine according to Maomao, not to mention his prowess at both the military arts and diplomacy.

As if to make up for all that he perceives he lacks, he knows talent when he sees it and will use people accordingly. Ironically (and though they would both hate to hear it) Jinshi and Rakan are more than a lot alike. Despite his complex, these qualities actually make him quite a good leader and you could see why the Emperor really wants to make him the Crown Prince even if this isn't Jinshi's wish.

But unlike Rakan, he is still soft-hearted at his core (see the case with Fuyou for example). And though Maomao is rankled at how he attempts to be both pragmatic and kind, at his inability to wholly abandon his heart for the things he knows must be done, at her core, I think that trait of Jinshi's is the main reason why Maomao finds herself unexpectedly loyal to him.

Much has been said for Maomao's charisma, but Jinshi also attracts loyalty from unexpected places. Like Gyokuyou, he surrounds himself with capable people. While part of me is cheering him on to get his wish of being an ordinary person, I feel like everything has been building up to his eventual ascension to the throne. Because while Jinshi may complain and grumble about his work, ultimately he will still do it. At present, he could only implement his plan because he still thinks he's just the Imperial Brother. But the moment the truth gets revealed, he won't easily be able to shake off his burden.

A part of me thinks that he will eventually take the throne in some form or the other, but only until Gyokuyou's son comes of age and he can finally pass on the crown and become an ordinary person once and for all. This scenario would actually be the perfect pretext for him to justify having only Maomao for his sole consort since he can reason out that he doesn't want to further complicate the lines of succession by having more children with more consorts. In other words, a win-win possibly for both Jinshi and the current Emperor (except Maomao haha).

#jinmao #jinshi #ka zuigetsu #kusuriya no hitorigoto #knh #the apothecary diaries #maomao #maomao x jinshi

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shuttershocky · 1 month

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The funniest part about CV-8's map design for me is how terrified Clip Cliff is of Ebenholz.

Clip Cliff's skillset appears painstakingly designed to deal with just about every notorious S-tier boss-cheeser in Arknights. The 6x shot will instantly kill Mlynar (who has a taunt and so cannot hide behind a Defender), while its stun will handle Surtr (who will die on her own eventually). At 2500 DEF and 60 RES Yato and Texas can barely scratch him, while his DEF stats are far too high for a buffed Exusiai to gun him down. Typhon should be able to handle him with her S3, but the sheer amount of targets on stage and Cliff's tendency to walk down in the very middle dilutes the efficiency of her limited shots.

However, these traits alone don't solve a Random Ebenholz Event. Even if he were to target Ebenholz, Ebenholz would land his attack first. He has 60 RES, but as we've seen from the likes of Eblana, 60 RES can't save you from a full buff army Ebenholz strat.

So what does Cliff do? Hide.

4 out of 5 enemies, Cliff included, are Elites. Bosses very rarely hide behind Elite minions due to being the power unit that's supposed to push with the trash themselves, but Ebenholz's S3 has oneshot many a boss that's tried to charge forward without serious backup.

Cliff came prepared. He (Hypergryph) watched all the videos about how players have killed all the past bosses in order to be able to provide an actual challenge, including circumventing the one way Ebenholz singles out bosses by promoting all his dudes into elites.

Some of his guys may die in a sudden and painful blast of instantaneous 80k Arts damage, but that's a risk he's willing to take.

#arknights

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nunalastor · 1 month

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The official hoof art and the beach art you reblogged has me daydreaming about a beach episode.

Not sure if the Pride Ring has an ocean, but Lucifer has canonically made a wildly popular theme park called Lu Lu World, so maybe he's made some water parks or (artificial) beach resorts too. So maybe after the construction of the new hotel's completed and Alastor's returned to the group, he decides to take his daughter and her new family to one of his water parks for some fun and relaxation after a really harrowing experience.

They get there and everyone's prepared to have fun, Charlie and Vaggie are cooing over how pretty/cute the other looks in their swimsuits, Angel definitely chose something racy and he's playfully flirting with Husk, and Husk carrying the cooler full of beers and rolling his eyes at Angel but has a knowing smile. Cherri Bomb joined in as well and is hyped to go surfing for the first time since she died and offers to teach Niffty who giggling like an embarrassed schoolgirl by the amount of skin on display. Lucifer's excited to show off his waterpark to Charlie and her friends and he closes it to the public for the day so that they can have it all to themselves. They get there and everyone is eager to jump into the water. Everyone except Alastor, who takes a seat in the shade and decides to read while everyone else is playing. He doesn't even take off his Hawaiian shirt.

Angel Dust teases Alastor for being a stick in the mud which just gets him grabbed by an underwater tentacle. Alastor has a laugh at Angel's terrified screams, but doesn't do anything more than scare him. Angel Dust decides he's gonna mess with Alastor in turn, so he gets everyone together and proposes a game; try to get Alastor's shirt off.

No it's not just 'cause he wants to see Alastor shirtless, shut up Husk.

It takes some cajoling, but eventually Angel's able to get everyone on board with the game. Mostly everyone. What follows is a series of Looney Toons style antics involving badly faked accidental tripping, booby traps, and at one point a giant fan. But whether through bad luck or Alastor's preternatural senses, he manages to dodge each and every attempt. Up until the very last moment when Niffty actually does trip for real and covers his shirt in fruit punch. Alastor's annoyed but he doesn't get mad at Niffty. He just goes to the changing room to clean up away from the prying eyes of the weirdos he's found himself in the unfortunate company of.

Lucifer feels kind of bad, realizing they may have crossed a line or three. So after Alastor's been gone a while, he grabs a towel and his spare shirt and follows Alastor to the changing room to offer him a hand.

But when he walks in he's stunned to find Alastor shirtless, running his shirt under the faucet. Nearly every inch of Alastor's torso is covered in horrible, rough looking scars. The moment Alastor notices Lucifer staring at him in the mirror he goes full demon, antlers elongating, bones popping out of place, and roars at Lucifer to get out. Lucifer isn't scared of Alastor exactly, but his heart is pounding nonetheless as he runs out of the changing room.

(No idea if Alastor's scars are still canon - or if they ever were canon - but god I hope they are.)

When Alastor eventually steps out of the changing room, back to his normal form, dressed, slightly damp, Lucifer is waiting outside for him. Lucifer starts to stammer out an awkward apology for barging in when he knew Alastor was changing, but Alastor cuts him off. With a perfectly pleasant smile that is at odds with the icy look in his eyes, he simply says, 'let's keep this bit of unpleasantness to ourselves, shall we?' and leaves to rejoin the group.

Since Alastor's determined to act like nothing happened, Lucifer goes along with it. Still, he can't quite shake the image out of his head.

(I don't think the scars are canon but who gaf about canon tbh.)

#hazbin hotel #huskerdust #radioapple #chaggie #alastor #lucifer #nunalastor asks #appleradio #radio apple #apple radio #niffty #angel dust #cherri bomb #charlie #vaggie #husk

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bishopsbeloved · 3 months

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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)

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

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gay-dorito-dust · 1 year

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Can you maybe do a Wednesday and Enid x reader (platonic or romantic) where basically the reader comes from a very rich family and likes to spoil Wednesday and Enid.

(I hope this makes sense)

Is this what you wanted? Idk but I thought a headcannon format would be more sufficient for this but again idk. You tell me.

You spare no expenses when it came to Wednesday and Enid. You never bothered to try in fact because it didn’t really matter, as the money spent would eventually find itself back into your parents bank account anyways so why should you fret about accidentally crossing certain thresholds?

So when Wednesday’s typewriter starts having complications, hindering her writing time, you assured her that you would be able to get it fixed by the best people there was in fixing things. However it turns out that the typewriter was irreparably damaged and you had to buy Wednesday a new one that was personalised to be coated in a matte black colour and you even had her initials engraved on the front of it in gold cursive.

Wednesday may not have looked visibly thrilled at the new typewriter but her bland words of “I’m so ecstatic that my face can not comprehend how to convey it.” Were all you needed to know that she did in fact liked her new typewriter and began working on her book as though nothing ever happened. The next day you found a dead bird in front of your dorm, this was Wednesday’s way of saying ‘thank you.’

You even went out of your way to find enid a new part for her laptop when she complains to you that she couldn’t get anything do without it. So once again you went off to find the best shops available in Jericho that could help you in finding what you needed. Unfortunately due to it being the city of Jericho there weren’t a single good shop in sight that even had the part you needed in stock nor even in the back with the rest of the recent deliveries.

Typical.

With that you resorted to plan b and reached out online to shops elsewhere and ordered it for a next day delivery as to save yourself and enid the agonising waiting game. You even got her some other parts should this happen again but all of them were expensive and of state of the art manufacturing with the added promise of longevity and efficiency.

Enid was gobsmacked when she learnt that you did this all for her. “How can I pay you back for doing this for me?” She would ask but all you told her was that you didn’t need to be paid back for as long as she was happy and that the part was doing it’s job smoothly without any hitches, then that’s all the payment you desired.

This didn’t stop at fixing and or replacing their broken stuff but it also extended to their birthdays where you got enid more squishmellows for her growing pile, top of the range designer clothing that you’d knew she would look stunning in, new sets of nail polish, moisturisers, makeup and some new fairy lights should her current ones light their final night.

For Wednesday it was a little more trickier as she hated her birthday being celebrated in the traditional sense that you and enid were brought up with and instead you bought her an actual guillotine that she had set up next to her cello outside on the balcony of Ophelia Hall, dissection kits, things to keep her cello in top condition, some dark flowers that didn’t require much caring for, pacidermy animals much to Enid’s dismay as Wednesday would always seemingly have them face her whenever she said something that Wednesday wasn’t particularly fond of.

When Wednesday and enid try to repay you on your generosity, enid worries that due to your upbringing, you would be expecting diamonds, gold and the such thrown at your feet but Wednesday told her that she was exaggerating and that yes, you were born into an extremely wealthy family but the addams noted that you have a preference for the smaller things. So out they went to Jericho and chose a couple of things that they thought you’d might like.

Enid got you some cute toys that she though would add to your dorm along with getting you a matching snood with her and Wednesday that you could all wear to class together. Wednesday got you a necklace with a dead crow with a black Dalia sprouting from it’s heart with some of it’s crystal feathers dotted here and there up the silver chain as to give off the impression that this crow was shot out of the sky. She also got you some uncouth stuff like a hand mace or an taser for self defence for when people who couldn’t get the hint.

She wouldn’t admit it but even Wednesday was a little nervous that you might not like what they got you. However she didn’t have to continue putting belief into that thought as your eyes light up at each and everything that she and Enid got you that by the end of it you looked to both of them with the widest grin they’ve ever seen. “Thank you both so much! I love everything you’ve given me! Nobody’s given me things that I actually like!”

“What do you mean by that y/n?” Enid asks, confused.

“My parents think that splashing their money on expensive stuff for me is what I want but it’s not, I could care less about having the state of the art phone, tv, clothes, none of that matters to me but it seems that to them, that’s all that matters is to not only be rich but look rich too…so when they started putting large sums of money into my bank account, I spent it on the things that I want, on the clothes that I felt good in rather then what they think I’d look good in for their reputation. So I thank you both for these,” you told them as you squeezed one of the plushies Enid bought you close to your chest, “I love them a lot.”

“Even the taser?” Enid asked as Wednesday stared at her

You chuckled, “yes, even the taser. After all you can never be too sure when a creep is nearby.” You looked to Wednesday who’s lips almost uplifted into a proper smile but came back down into it’s neutral state just seconds later.

#Wednesday imagines #Wednesday imagine #Wednesday x you #Wednesday x reader #Wednesday fanfic #Wednesday fic #Wednesday Addams fanfic #Wednesday Addams fic #Wednesday Addams imagines #Wednesday Addams imagine #Wednesday Addams x you #Wednesday Addams x reader #enid sinclair fic #enid sinclair x you #enid sinclair fanfic #enid sinclair imagine #enid sinclair x reader #Enid sinclair imagines

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doppel-doodles · 3 months

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Hi, i really like your art and you writing, you are really good, so I wanted to know if you could Make some headcanons about Macaque ,Wukong ,Azure AND Shadowpeach with a Male or GN reader that Is súper soft with them and supports them when they are down, I was thinking about Wukong AND Macaque without The glamour things and insecure about their real apearence, and Azure with some scars after The Jade emperor Situation, Those boys need some love AND im sorry if I am overloading you with this request, Thanks

Heya! Firstly thanks a bunch for requesting and for the compliments! It's really sweet:> I was a bit confused in the request if you meant shadowpeach and the boys separately or just shadowpeach so I did the former just to be safe! Hope you enjoy!

Azure, Wukong and Macaque with a supportive reader

Azure lion

If we're going with Azure somehow surviving what happened to him in season 4 then I imagine he would probably gain large scars all over his body from the jade emperor's powers being too much for him to the point it was literally tearing him apart.

One goes over his eye and he has most likely lost some vision with that one, another cuts into his mane creating a slight bald spot. And the rest are scattered all across from his arms to his legs.

I don't think he would cover them up with glamour though, he would most likely keep them out as a reminder of what he did, a warning even.

Finally realizing that he wasn't the good guy and everything he did was in fact not good comes with a lot of emotions: guilt,shame even remorse.

But that's where you come in!

You don't know what Azure did or even who he was before you two met. With you he could have a fresh start, something he may have desperately needed after everything.

You would never try and pry about what happened to him to be so banged up either.

Not even when he wakes up in the middle of the night after a horrible nightmare, dreaming about how that day he was defeated could have turned out...

You just hold him,sooth him, tell him he's safe and that whatever he saw wasn't real.

And you'll continue to do so until he passes out in your arms, becoming a snoring mess once again.

You'll never know just how grateful he is to you for this, his appreciation just grows deeper every time.

He has debated over telling you who he used to be and what he had done, to be honest something inside him is deeply afraid that you'll hate him if he tells you even with you showing him nothing but care and support, and if you would he wouldn't fault you for it, not one bit.

He will tell you the story behind his scars one day, he just needs a little more time.

Sun Wukong

Okay, for Wukong I actually feel like it'll take him EXTREMELY long to drop the glamour around you. He really needs to be insanely comfortable with your presence and that alone takes time.

Him and being open with people just don't seem to mesh you feel me?

It also just stings his ego a bit. He is supposed to be the monkey king, the great sage equal to heaven for him you don't imagine that kind of guy getting hurt like ever right?

But if you are patient with him you'll eventually have him coming home, dropping his glamour and happily falling into your arms for a well deserved cuddle after a long day.

And once he showed them to you there really is no going back for him, the feeling of you kissing over his scarred skin? The way it fills him with that warm fuzziness? He wouldn't trade it for all the peaches in the world.

I imagine the circlet that was used on him actually left a scar that goes all around his head, so be sure to place lots of kisses on his forehead yes?

I've also played around with the idea that when the lady bone demon possessed Wukong it actually left a scar on his back were her power entered.

The skin ther is not just cool to the touch, it is ice cold.

This one is especially hard to look at for him but he can always feel it, no matter how many layers he wears that spot will always feel cool,dead even.

And death is something he does not like.

So when you hug him from behind or give him back rubs, your body heat breathing life back into his skin for a brief period of time it almost makes him regret hiding this from you for so long!

Macaque

Surprisingly with Macaque it's EVEN WORSE he has a major case of trust issues so don't think he'll dump to you even though he definitely should let it out-

Like you actually have the patience of a saint if you can put up with him for that long in his eyes, which is great! He loves that about you!

With your encouragement he'll actually become willing to show his eye scar in public...kinda.

What I mean is when he is in human form performing at his shadow theater it would be there but covered by his hood so nobody would actually be able to see it.

Listen we are taking baby steps here-

And you couldn't be prouder of these tiny steps! And you let him know that, oh how you let him know that.

He is low key kinda startled by it at first, in his mind you should probably feel a bit cheated by him doing it this way but you just aren't. It makes his heart flutter more than he likes to admit.

He also appreciates the little things you do for him when you learn of his six ears and exceptional hearing.

Without even noticing you'll talk in a quieter voice or just watch your tone in general or you just carry a pair of noise cancelling headphones around for him incase you two find yourself in an unbearably loud environment and for whatever reason can't leave.

He ADORES your thoughtfulness for him to be honest.

It's been a while since he experienced anything like it.

Shadowpeach

Here is a shocker I don't think it'll take them even half as long to drop the glamour in this situation.

Because those two have a history, they know mostly what the other truly looks like already so there isn't as much pressure to hide it from the other since they already know.

And it would kinda make them feel bad to leave you out of the loop at that point, you're part of this relationship too after all so if they can show their scars to each other then they should show them to you as well right?

Although seeing Macaques eye stirs up a mix of feelings in Wukong every time.

He caused it after all.

Also I like the idea of Macaque planning out this whole grandiose reveal to you, like the extra Theater kid he is he actually has a whole script written out and memorised down to the very last line, yes he tried forcing Wukong to do the same, no he did not do the same.

Then the day before Wukong strolls in with no glamour like "HERE I AM!" Like the jerk he is-

Macaque proceeded to have a friendly round of rough housing with him for that:D

Besides that I imagine it being like it was in their own headcanons just with these two occasionally fighting for your attention

#lego monkie kid #lmk #lmk x reader #lmk azure lion #azure lion x reader #lmk sun wukong #sun wukong x reader #lmk macaque #lmk macaque x reader #doppels valentine

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in1-nutshell · 2 months

Note

I know request are closed so just add this to the bottom of the list for whenever you see it.

TFP Megatron's daughter with MTMTE Megatron.

this feels like the kinda thing that would hurt him, knowing that in one universe he was lucky enough to have a daughter as smart and kind as buddy and he hurt her.

have a nice day hope you drink water

This is a pair that I have thought about if they ever met. Buddy is now going to have to meet another Megatron. But don't worry she's not alone!

Hope you enjoy!

Megatron's daughter with the opposite personality meeting MTMTE Megatron

SFW, Platonic, Familial, slight angst, Cybertronain reader

TFP/MTMTE

In MTMTE…

Brainstorm was bored.

So, he started to work on one of the projects he had been putting off for a while.

A dimension to an alternate universe, even different than theirs!

He was just about to turn it on when Perceptor came in.

“Brainstorm have you seen Nautica? I have her data—what in Primus’s name are you doing?!”--Perceptor

Brainstorm hanging upside down trying to reach a button to turn on the machine that was slightly smoking.

“Oh! Percy! You’re just in time! I was going to push the button—”--Brainstorm

Perceptor trying to reach Brainstorm.

“There will be no pushing—”--Perceptor

Brainstorm pushes the button.

“BOOP!”—Brainstorm

Machine starts whirling up.

“It’s working!”--Brainstorm

In TFP…

Buddy was walking with Miko on her shoulder.

They had gone to go get some arts and crafts from one of the empty rooms in the base.

Something about a human holiday coming up.

When the portal opened.

“OH, PRIMUS NOT AGAIN!”--Buddy

Buddy dropping the boxes trying to grab Miko and something else to not go into the portal.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN AGAIN?!”--Miko

“EXPLAIN LATER! BULKHEAD! OPTIMUS! ULTRA MAGNUS! RATCHET!”--Buddy

Miko slips through Buddy’s grip.

“BUDDY!”--Miko

Buddy jumps at Miko, covering her entire body as they both get swallowed by the portal.

In MTMTE…

Brainstorm was wrestling with Perceptor when two figures came out of the portal.

The portal shut leaving the machine slightly smoking.

There was no way anyone was going to turn that thing on and not have it potentially exploding in their faces.

Miko groaning a bit t the rough landing.

She is on a lab table.

Buddy is hanging upside down tangled up in a bunch of wires.

“Oh! Hello!”--Brainstorm

Brainstorm lightly pokes Miko who just looks at these two new bots.

“Hey! Leave her alone!”--Buddy

Buddy is struggling to get out of the wires to get to Miko.

“Relax!”--Brainstorm

Brainstorm presses a button to release the wires.

Buddy falls face first on the floor.

Brainstorm, Miko, and Perceptor wince hearing the sudden noise.

Perceptor helps Buddy up.

“My apologies. I know you two may have some questions in where—”--Perceptor

“We’re a different universe or dimension.”--Buddy

Brainstorm’s wings go up.

“Have you done that before?!”--Brainstorm

“Against my will, yes. This is Miko’s first time.”--Buddy

“Who are you guys?”--Miko

“My name is Brainstorm! I’m actually the mech who brought you two here with my machine. This is my partner Perceptor! Don’t mind him, he’s more of a mood killer.”--Brainstorm

Percepor sends him a glare.

“So, you’re the bot who brought us here? What about getting us back?”--Buddy

“Haven’t gotten to that part yet, but eventually we’ll get there!”--Brainstorm

Perceptor offers his servo for Miko to climb on.

She does and gets passed to Buddy.

Buddy refuses to let her down on the ground.

The two scientists briefly explain where the pair had ended up as they go to the med bay for any internal injuries.

Ratchet nearly has a stroke seeing a human and new bot in the med bay.

Buddy and Miko know immediately who Ratchet is. He isn’t too far from the Ratchet they were used to.

Brainstorm and Perceptor had to leave the pair with Ratchet while they went back to the lab to see if the machine was all right after a warning alert came online.

After explaining how the pair got there and nearly putting Ratchet in cardiac arrest, they get a clean bill of health.

“Hey Ratchet. Brainstorm and Percy over there said the war was over in this universe. Is that true?”--Miko

“Yes. Thankfully its been over for a bit. Has…”-Ratchet

“Our’s isn’t over yet…”--Buddy

Ratchet gives them an sympathetic smile.

Someone slams the door open.

Buddy grabs Miko and keeps her close to her chassis.

“Hey Doc-bot! I need you to settle an argue—”--Whirl

Whirl looks at Buddy and Miko.

“…”--Everyone

Whirl looks at Ratchet.

“Brainstorm?”--Whirl

“Brainstorm.”--Ratchet

Whirl steps closer slightly menacing to the pair.

Buddy straightens up, and tightens grip on Miko.

“So what do we have here? Another minibot and a fleshy.”--Whirl

“If you call me fleshy, can I call you a computer?”--Miko

Buddy wants to scream at Miko for trying to antagonize the larger mech.

Whirl blinks and steps closer.

Buddy glares at him hard.

Don’t. touch. Her.”--Buddy

“…All right! I have to give it to you both. Steal bearings.”--Whirl

Whirl scoops both Buddy and Miko up to his chassis.

“I’ll give you two the Lost Light tour with all the helpful commentary.”--Whirl

Buddy looks over at Ratchet who looks very tired but gives a ‘Your-safe-with-him’ smile.

Buddy can only hope so.

By the time Whirl gets to Swerve, Miko and him have already made a blood pact and have several ideas on overthrowing those who have wronged them.

Whirl swears he has found his Amica from another dimension.

Buddy is just trying to take everything in while also accessing any and all dangers onboard this ship.

It was much bigger than anything she had ever seen back home.

Even bigger than the Nemesis.

“—Then Megs and him nearly—”--Whirl

Buddy turns to him so fast he thinks she might have broken her neck cables.

“Megs? As in Megatron? He is here? On this ship!?”--Buddy

“Yeah? Oh yeah you two mentioned something about your war still going on.”--Whirl

“Yeah.”--Miko

“How come you two haven’t talked about it?”--Whirl

“Its better to tell a whole group so we don’t have to go through the whole story again and again.”--Buddy

“Kinda like your name?”--Miko

Buddy sighing heavily.

“Yep.”--Buddy

“Wait what is your designation, Tiny?”--Buddy

“Buddy.”--Buddy

Whirl stops momentarily.

“Buddy? What kind of name is that? Did your Caregivers want you to get picked on?”--Whirl

Buddy winces a bit while Miko flicks his armor a bit.

“Oh! Soft spot. Got it, but you might as well tell now before anyone else knows.”--Whirl

Buddy gives him a dead glare.

“All right, all right, no spoilers.”--Whirl

“But back to Megatron—”--Buddy

“Hey look we’re here.”--Whirl

It was after hours, meaning not many mechs were in.

Just most of the mech whirl associated himself with.

As usual, Whirl made his grand entrance in the bar.

Not many bots paid attention to him thinking he was just being Whirl.

Buddy’s anxiety was going up seeing all the energon out.

She worried for Miko’s safety and kept her close.

Miko didn’t object to the closeness, remembering what happened to Raf.

Hopefully this universe didn’t have a variant of dark energon.

“Hey Swerve! Look who I got.”--Whirl

Swerve turning around.

“Whirl if its Rewind and Tailgate—”--Swerve

His optics land on Buddy and Miko in his cockpit.

“H-How—what—huh?”--Swerve

Buddy is trying to ease the tension as Whirl places her and Miko on one of the bar stools and takes a seat himself.

“Hi, I’m Buddy and this is Miko. We are from another dimension and—”--Buddy

Swerve proceeds to fanboy about humans to Miko and asks a thousand questions where the two are trying to answer.

Swerve’s increase in chatter brought attention to the rest of the bars patrons to the new guest.

Some even comm in their friends to come and see the new commers from another dimension.

Buddy seemed to have relaxed a bit at all the friendly bots around her and Miko.

Miko was having the time of her life.

She let some of the more curious bots who had never seen a human before holding her on the condition that they tell her goofy stories.

Whirl had offered to take her to the gun range, which Buddy immediately shot down.

Eventually Ultra Magnus came in with Rodimus following behind.

The pair had heard from Ratchet, Brainstorm and Perceptor about their new visitors and had to meet them.

Magnus had messaged Megatron to come as soon as his evening class was done.

Magnus had never seen a human or a bot so happy to see him before.

What is this feeling?

They were excited… to see him?

Not Rodimus… just him?

That’s when Megatron came in with the rest of the Rod Squad.

Buddy felt her entire world come to a halt.

She knew well that this Megatron was not hers.

She knew that she should have any harsh feelings for the mech that she barely knew.

…that didn’t stop her servos from shaking and everything start to blur.

Miko was quick to recognize that Buddy was starting to freak out and saw why.

And she wouldn’t blame Buddy for freaking out.

This Megatron was a whole category by himself, easily.

Their Megatron wouldn’t stand a chance against this giant mech.

Miko went to grab Buddy’s servo when she noticed something in her pocket.

The Apex Armor!

How did she even forget this!?

Miko activates the armor and jumps off the counter causing multiple mechs to scream and try to grab her.

She activates the armor now standing roughly average height in front of Buddy.

“DID THE FLESHY CYBERFORM?!”--Brainstorm

“WHAT JUST HAPPENED!?”--Tailgate

“THAT’S MY FURTURE AMICA!”--Whirl

Miko stares straight at Megatron as if daring him to make the first move.

Rodimus comes between her and Megatron.

“Woah, woah, woah. First nice form and all that needs explaining. Two I heard about your war still going on, but this Megatron here, he’s reformed.”--Rodimus

Buddy pats Miko on the shoulder from the bar.

They both look at each other, having an in-depth understanding.

Buddy gets down on the floor and walks towards the hulking giant, staring at the red Autobot badge.

She takes out her servo.

“My name is Buddy. Its… its good to see you Megatron.”—Buddy

Miko was silently cheering for Buddy’s bravery.

She even managed to get Megatron to sit down with the rest of the patrons.

That’s when the two of them agree to finally, fully, talk about their universe.

Starting with Buddy’s origins.

Just hearing about Buddy being Pre-war Megatron’s daughter floored everyone.

Megatron exe. Has stopped working please try again later.

He… he has a sparkling in another universe?

That’s great—wait… they were still at war…

Something was wrong…

The story started out with much understanding about the Senate’s power-hungry ideas and how hard it was to keep a sparkling.

Everyone, despite knowing what happens generally with the Senate meeting, is on edge.

Everyone is quiet when Buddy starts to describe her life on the Nemesis.

There are some glares to Megatron, but then they remember its other dimension Megatron that they need to get angry at.

Megatron has a neutral face while Buddy describes her time on the Nemesis.

Miko grabs her servo when the worst bits come up.

Several bots get up to give Buddy a hug during the explanation.

Some just stay there hugging.

Miko eventually tells her position with meeting Team Prime to try and make things as chronological as they could.

Once the pair is done, it’s silent.

Megatron looks over at Buddy.

“Buddy… I know that you are not my sparkling. But at the same time, you are. I want to tell you that the actions of my counterpart do not speak for other alternatives. I am sorry that you were hurt this way by him. I know that may not—”--Megatron

Buddy dives in and hugs his waist.

Megatron freezes before slowly placing his servo on Buddy’s back.

“You don’t need to apologize. You’re not him. You have a chance at peace and to make something great out of it. I am so proud of you for that Megatron. He… he would take peace and spit in your face. The point I’m trying to say is… thanks dad.”—Buddy

Buddy looks back at him.

She gives a small smile.

He gives a weak one back.

Miko is cheering in the background.

For the next several days the duo stays on the Lost Light waiting for the machine to get fixed.

Swerve thankfully got his servos on some human necessities for Miko while she stayed.

They had a blast with everyone on the ship.

Megatron and Buddy were nearly inseparable.

Megatron silently swears if he sees his counterpart that caused so much pain to this sparkling, he is going to meet his end. Or at least get the beating of a lifetime.

Soon enough it’s time for the two to leave.

The goodbyes are long and tearful.

Miko hugs Whirl’s neck as he tries his best to not tear up.

“If you ever end up in my universe you know who to call, okay?”--Miko

“Got that right Fleshy.”--Whirl

“I’m gonna miss you, you oversized can opener.”--Miko

Buddy and Megatron exchanging some words before giving one last hug.

“Bye everyone!”—Buddy and Miko

Buddy and Miko, in the Apex armor, go through the portal.

Menawhile in TFP…

Buddy shoots out the portal and straight into the wall.

“Why… I swear its every single time…”--Buddy

Miko lands doing a back flip.

“That was fun!”--Miko

Buddy falling back on the floor.

“Speak for yourself.”--Buddy

“MIKO!? BUDDY?!”--Bulkhead

Thunderous pedes start coming their way.

“Miko how do you feel about house arrest?”--Buddy

“…You think if we contact the Lost Light again, we’ll escape it?”--Miko

Pedesteps are getting louder.

“Not likely. Do what I do. Accept your fate without resistance.”--Buddy

The door gets torn off its hinges as Tema Prime comes pouring in.

“Nice knowing you Miko.”--Buddy

“Same to you Buddy.”--Miko

#transformers x reader #maccadam #bot buddy #tfp #tfp x reader #tfp x platonic reader #mtmte x reader #mtmte x platonic reader #tfp miko #mtmte megatron #mtmte whirl

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mochippyyy · 3 months

Note

Ven and Vel getting jobs xD

Dancer AU!! (technically Veneer isn't a dancer in this but my explanation will be on the bottom! TLDR it was just cool so yippee [there's lore!!!!!!!])

Also! sorry@imadumdumjewel for the late reply!

If you guys req anything, I'll get to it, just may be a tad late...

Anywho! I ran a lil poll on Twitter to decide on the types of jobs they would have so here we go:

So I actually forgot to put dancer Vel/artist Ven because I kinda thought Ven would kinda fit the thing but after I finished this art I was pretty happy I didn't put it on there lol.

I honestly think that the other job options seemed pretty interesting, but no one really suggested any other jobs, and almost everyone was enthralled with the idea of dancer Ven & Vel.

For Veneer:

At first, my friend and I were planning this, but nothing really felt right to us. I did suggest Ballerino, but it didn't feel like something Veneer would do without Velvet, because they kinda come in pairs. Gymnast was also a suggestion, but after a couple minutes, it was swiftly discarded because I didn't want to draw Veneer's toes.

Anywho, while searching for other options, ice skating appeared, and my friend suggested an interesting idea as to

Lore time:

When Veneer was young, his parents pushed him towards traditionally male hobbies, such as sports and more sports. When his dad saw a flyer for an ice hockey team, he signed him up immediately. However, some mischievous kid had taped a different number to the hockey flyer, so Veneer's father ended up signing him up for figure skating instead.

At first, Veneer thought he was out of place, after all, the ratio of boys to girls was significant and he found himself to be the only one in that class. He didn't enjoy it much and regretted that he didn't join Velvet in her breakdancing course. However, as he unwillingly went to classes, he slowly started gaining a love for the sport and noticed how beautiful it was.

That led him to go down into professional figure skating and join competitions, eventually leading him to go down in history. For Velvet

My friend suggested swapping traditionally male and female dance styles, which led to the eventual conclusion: breakdancing. Velvet is a strong-willed character who would definitely try to get her way (as shown in the trailer of the movie) and take the classes that she liked.

Lore time:

When Veneer got signed up to do ice hockey, Velvet felt like she didn't have to deal with her little brother all day, and felt that she had a lot of time to herself. At first, she found a lot of things to do every day, running to places, going to parties, and just generally having fun.

At this point, Veneer was still unwilling to go to figure skating classes, (turns out Velvet was the mischievous kid who changed the number on the ice hockey flyer into a figure skating course phone number) but since his father had already paid for a year, he had to go anyways. Velvet would purposely use this to upset Veneer when she didn't get what she wanted, but then would accidentally make Veneer cry, resulting in her getting lectured by her parents, and Velvet holding back tears as she apologized to Veneer (she was totes in the fault here tho).

She realized that the more free time she had, the more her parents would lecture her. She decided right then and there that she would sign up for a class. She spent days, scrolling her phone and watching videos of different skills to decide what she wanted to do. However, nothing caught her eye.

Then, one day, she saw a kid do a flip, and slip and fall miserably. First, she took a video and laughed, and then thought to herself, "Hey, I could do that waaaayyyyy better. That kid's a failure!" And so she threw herself into learning it, but unsurprisingly, she fell flat on her face.

She was unhappy with this result, so she immediately went to her parents and asked them to sign her up for a breakdancing course. However, she had a tendency to give up when things got annoying/hard, so her parents turned her away each time. However, both the nonstop pestering and the fact that she no longer was bullying Veneer (because she was too busy following her parents around and throwing tantrums), they finally gave in.

From then on, she started breakdancing classes, and Veneer was upset because now his sister got to do something she liked, but Veneer was stuck in ice skating hell. He was very unhappy for some time, but then decided, "If she's gonna be happy, I gotta be happier. I gotta upstage her". So, he took to ice skating and started focusing all his efforts on it.

Velvet, seeing her twin brother become increasingly devoted to learning the trade she had forced him into while she had just started to get bored of breakdancing, felt a spark of competition and decided to practice harder.

Her parents were really impressed. Periodt. Now they are famous both nationally (Veneer) and on the streets (Velvet, for breakdancing, not giving up). YIPPEE

THE END

#artists on tumblr #trolls 3 #trolls veneer #velvet trolls #trolls #can i please have velvet and veneer #velvet and veneer #digital art #artwork #dreamworks trolls

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witchyafterdark · 3 months

Text

— Sebastian Sallow Headcanons; pt. 1

[None of the images belong to me! All credits to the owners and editors of these images!]

During 6th year, he tried his best to do good throughout the school year, and distract himself from the remnants of the Dark Arts' hold on him. Instead of giving into the temptation of the call to research more about the forbidden spells, he instead busied himself helping people with their academics.

He helps MC most of all, scheduling a constant time and day for tutorials about all the lessons they might have missed out on, in spite of their Field Guide. (And yes, he also gifted Ominis with Braille-engraved ingredient bottles for Potions class).

He extends this help towards underclass students, mostly Slytherin ones... cause you know, he still has that House Cup competitive streak in him.

Bonus: When he's in the library to study and tutor others, he usually leaves his blazer and robes back at the dorms to be more comfortable and laidback. He also started to wear reading glasses more frequently than before, and uses it to push back his messy waves when he doesn't need it. That's when he started to wonder why there seems to be more students, mostly girls, asking for his tutorial and academic assistance all the time. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

⭆⭆⭆

In the midst of Victorian standards of propriety and social decorum between men and women, Sebastian is actually quite well-versed in taking care of women in his life. When it was socially acceptable for men to opt out of "womanly discussions," Sebastian knows more than the average man, thanks to having been attuned to his twin all his life.

He was literally there when Anne was hunched over her food, in pain, at the Great Hall during their 2nd year. After almost carrying her all the way to the Hospital Wing, he demanded to know what was going on with her... until Nurse Blainey told him she started to have her monthly bleeding.

Instead of shying away from the topic, he took it upon himself to research in the library all there is about women's health and anatomy. When he didn't find what he was looking for, that's when he started to sneak into the restricted section for more information than what was available!

Best believe he was by Anne's side the next morning with a handful of chocolates, sweets, and a pair of enchanted warm, fuzzy socks to ease her period pains. This boy is not afraid of hush-hush women problems. He might even go down to the kitchens to make Anne her favorite soup to keep her warm, full, and cozy for bed.

(Will be the best girl dad)

⭆⭆⭆

I firmly believe that Sebastian would eventually stumble upon the cure for Anne as an adult.

Right after graduating from Hogwarts, he would most likely become a curse breaker; not only because it suits him, but he has a restless and tumultuous relationship with himself. Being buried in work while being in foreign lands serve as a good distraction for him. Sitting too long by himself doing nothing can make him ruminate about his past, and that's no good.

If Anne is still alive by the time he finds her cure, he would most certainly try his best to rekindle a connection with her, finding wherever she currently resides. He might even beg Ominis to tell him where she is, promising that his findings are backed up by other curse breakers or whatnot (even if that may not exactly be true), just so he'd be told of Anne's whereabouts.

Understandably, Anne would be extremely wary of all of this. But Sebastian can be extremely persuasive, and would have to be completely transparent with her about all of the information he found. He will get his sister back, and that was a promise he made to himself all those years ago. He never abandoned that promise.

But if Anne had already passed away, stumbling upon the cure during his work travels would make Sebastian spiral out of control. He will most likely disappear from the face of the earth, and not even Ominis' underground connections will be able to trace him.

Dark wizard and poacher camps can be reported to have been decimated to the ground overnight over a span of months, seamingly by the work of a vigilante. But in reality, Sebastian has been unleashing his rage and anger on those people who were like the wizard who cursed his sister. No one can stop him from this moment of grieving. He needs some sort of justice for what happened to Anne, and this is the only way he can think of in the midst of his grief.

Simultaneously, though, he has been collecting illicit and illegal information about all the curses, hexes, rituals, and dark magic he can get his hands on. He needs to know about all of them to be prepared for the worst in the future, however his future might be. This mission of his makes him compile and bind some sort of a tome of all the cures and solutions to the Dark Arts.

This kind of pattern continues of over the course of a couple of years, writing a letter to Ominis and MC every now and then to let them know he's still alive. Once he is quite satisfied and have come to terms with his grief, only then would he reemerge into society.

⭆⭆⭆

On a more lighthearted note, being a curse breaker is something he doesn't actually see himself doing for the rest of his life as he grows older. During his youth, he reveled in his findings and discoveries, taking pride in his abilities to be quick on his feet in perilous situations. Like most young men, he will maximize the years of his prime, traveling to distant lands and seeking opportunities elsewhere.

But as he falls into a groove, he might also feel the effects of the job on himself. Places and faces can get old to him once he realizes that he's no longer the young man he used to be. Weariness slowly seep into his bones, and he would love nothing more at this point than to be embraced into a warm home, and taking life slowly.

He realizes that time waits for no man, and perhaps this all stemmed from seeing Ominis recently. His old friend looking more at peace with himself, calm and contented with his own found family.

This could be the final push for Sebastian to finally hang the coat, and quietly retire from being a curse breaker. And this is where Professor Sallow comes into the picture.

Going back to Hogwarts, now as a teacher, gives him the sense of relief and comfort he didn't know he was yearning for. It's as if he has been holding his breath for so long, and now, he can breathe easy again. He feels safe now, with a renewed sense of purpose.

All of his learnings and discoveries during his prime will most definitely take their place in the familiar shelves of the Hogwarts library. He might even feel nostalgic over the fact the he now has actual unlimited access to the Restricted Section, with some of his books sitting right next to the ones he used to get into trouble for.

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow headcanon #sebastian sallow headcanons #hogwarts legacy headcanon #hogwarts legacy headcanons #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader

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majorbaby · 3 months

Text

it takes a conscious effort to break your patterns of consumption and unlearn the notion beauty, interiority, diverse ways of existence aren't exclusive to whiteness or maleness. part of that isn't your fault. certain music is played on the radio, certain shows survive cancellation no matter what, certain people seem to be able to commit the worst possible acts against other human beings and are excused on account of their creative genius. others are selectively punished, with good reason sure, but still, selectively.

now more than ever it's easier to immerse yourself in art made by people outside of the mainstream. reading lists, free resources, playlists... all this stuff is more accessible than ever, but you've got to make an effort to give it a try. it's black history month, the recs are pouring in, go have a look. or take a chance on something absolutely no one has recommended anywhere and if you find something you like, rec it to someone else because the likelihood is they haven't heard of it.

tracy chapman's "fast car" is one of eleven songs that appears on her self-titled debut album. can you name the second hit single from it? if you're american and you fell anywhere left of center as of the 2016 election, it should be on the tip of your tongue if you were engaged in your country's politics at the time, regardless of your level of actual investment in the system. if not, the next time you're doing a task you need both hands with, washing the dishes, having dinner, doing your makeup, put that album on.

there's a post with over 100K notes on here that i see all the time of bruce springsteen and clarence clemons kissing. there's a part of that that is immediately meaningful to many if you're lgbtq, and a part that is harder for non-black lgbtq people to feel the weight of. but it is worth trying to do and was part of the reason why they kissed so often in the first place. clarence clemons was from norfolk, virginia. he released multiple albums outside of his work with the e street band. they may not be for you, but give them a try.

give enough music, or movies, or books that aren't a part of the approved canon a try, and there's no way you won't find something you don't feel as passionate about as you do about springsteen, siken, the beatles, what have you.

james baldwin was a prolific artist. see if you can't find something of his you like more than giovanni's room.

immerse yourself in ringo sheena, who mitski cites as one of her influences.

if you have difficulty paying attention to music you don't recognize, (i get it) make a playlist that alternates tracks you know and love with brand new tracks. start small. 5 faves of all time, 5 you're going to try out. you won't like everything, but you might find yourself looking forward to 6 songs instead of 5 eventually.

for movies, pick an actor whose performance you loved in something and explore their work. last year i picked whoopi goldberg, also a prolific artist, with a vast body of work that's pretty accessible as a result of her constant, intentional effort.

if you're an artist yourself, you can only stand to improve by getting to know your fellow artists better. so expand your notion of what art is. you can do it for free in lots of cases, and you're spending that time listening to music or reading or watching movies or series anyway, what have you got to lose?

anti-racism sometimes means engaging in real-world narratives of pain endured by brown and black people. that pain permeates much of our art, but we're just as three-dimensional as everybody else, and every aspect of our experiences come through in our work. you know that already, because what else is happening when you indulge in various genres. for everything you love or enjoy, there's a brown or black person who's doing something along those lines, in many cases, those genres wouldn't exist in their current form without the influence of our communities, some more than others, depending on where you're from. you can actually keep one foot inside your comfort zone and dip your toe into something else. that choice is both a joy and a luxury.

#im saying this with generosity #the best time to start was ten years ago the next best time is today #hope i don't regret this. lol.

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