#for me it was less platonic and more spiritual
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my humanity in a book series now that I actually think about the premise is so weird.
the original concept is just to prove that all of humanity's pain and suffering and joys and gifts can be shown in just a few books, that a lot of our struggles are shared and a lot are unique but that they're all inherently human.
no matter what experience you go through it's going to be a human experience because you are a human, and no matter how isolated and alone or exiled you feel the rest of humanity you are still infact human and take that part of you everywhere
you will always be a step in some direction of humanity no matter what that deed is
it's not meant to be read as comforting, in all honesty most of the characters find the idea of never not being human to be sort of disturbing. But that's a part of the human experience too. To look at humanity and say "man we suck"
But now I'm looking at it and it's more then that
the book is set in the 32nd century
although because of my lack of imagination I can't think of what the language would be like I did haphazardly put together a culture that I personally felt like matched the common trend of development in humanity
everyone is given a livable space, concept of currency really isn't a thing (but that's less on humanity and just because the space colony is made up of roughly 10,000 people and trade is impossible, there's more reasons too but I won't get into them at this moment) and in all honesty the society is fundamentally different then most societies on earth.
It's what you would call a utopia but it's such an obvious system that no body even considers it good. They talk only about the unfairness of the council members and the inhuman layout the colony is built on to make it relatively fair between all people. (I say fair not equal because they do take children, occupation and just size of person into account, which yes is a nightmare for everyone invloved)
but I dont know if you see it but there's a disconnect
they don't value the things we value, they don't have the same desires the same ambitions the same secret indulges, many conflicts are the same as they are now but they have a completely different context, different reactions from people, different tones and no real recognizable side we usually see in modern debates.
it's worse then if it were completely different conflicts, then you could just do some narrative translation and make it based off of the modern lense but you can't do that because it's the same conflict. ofcourse it's not to a point where your brain thinks "I can't compherehend this at all" but actually that makes it worse, because it is compherehensible it just isn't common
it's a story trying to tell you that all human experiences are inherently human but it's showing you a humanity that you can't really quite connect with
things you think are basic desires exist but they're not considered the core things that makes someone human, there's something alien about these people that you can't really agree with the actions they take and can't make sense of the movements and words they make.
800 years is a long time and I wanted to show it but I made a story that's inherently ironic
it still fits the original theme, it might fit it even better since it's telling you no matter how much humanity changes its still going to be humanity
but I left my audience behind, I alienated them to show them that they are human, that despite the alienation they're still apart of this society that they're reading about that dosent feel quite right
it's a weird thing to do
I really thought this book was going to be simple to write but I'm already adding layers and I don't think I'm going to stop
and also the science aspect behind this story excites me so much
I'm no biology major so half the stuff I come up with for the alien planet's are probably going to be impossible but it's fun to write about
espicially the plants, I found the heat regulated Lilly pads to be really fun to think up of
also fox like creatures that glow under uv light, gosh that took so much research
they're adorable by human standards but they are deathly venomous so please don't pet them
this series isn't even the only one in this universe
there's a second story that I suddenly forgot the name of but it's something like 'Colony 1, Brother Lutangalo' or something similar.
oh and if you haven't noticed yes these books are heavily inspired by the enderverse and I just wanted to go more indepth into the parts of the books that was largely left unexplored. So this series is also inspired by the shadow series, so the humanity in a book is more morality, conceptual and personal in nature the col1 brother lutangalo books are more political and more grounded in the main society (the 2 main characters are sent to set up a colony on a different planet so they aren't really on the main colony themselves) the main narrator being lutangalo which is the son of the 108 year old colony leader Lau. (this society also has a euthanization law that all people over the age of 100 by law must die to prevent over population, but religious leaders are protected so they can live pass 100 indefinitely) and is currently 8 when you first meet him. Actually his books don't start until he's 12, we meet him when he's 8 because that's the year the 2 main characters comes back
his books, and I'm calling them his books because this series is heavily centered on the one character rather then the humanity series which is forced to jump between people in different time and space to get the message across because the 2 main characters litterally don't react to anyone else but eachother for the majority of book one, all of book 2 and half of book 3 (at least that's what my planning says but it may change when I get to writing the drafts)
anyways his books are very focused on the family that he's apart of and how they affect the colony, it also focuses on the personal perspective of this one kid which is honestly the closet thing the readers get to a instinctually relatable character, he has all the impulses and needs a person of the current age would have, because he basically lived in the 21st century because of his obsessive need to research about Mr ari who is notoriously a history nerd.
so you're finally getting a person that lives and breathes in the same patterns as you do.
and he's so miserable
he is one of the most troubled, impulsive people you have ever met
but also the calmest and kindest and gentlest person at the same time
he's a horrible liar until he isn't, he's intelligent and self aware until he's shockingly oblivious
just a ball of horrible contradictions that feels way too unstable and flipfloppy to be consistently relatable
yes of course in several moments you will exclaim "ha, he's just like me!" but it's going to be rather hard to admit that all of his experiences and actions are relatable or even compherehensible
unlike the first series it's not justifiable in any rational way
it's messy, it's complicated, it's convoluted and he's honestly awful in some scenes
but thats human too
#i have this weird thing of trying to write a simple story then making it wayyyyyyy too complicated#THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ABOUT A DRUNKARD WHO LEARNS TO GET OVER HIS ADDICTION BY GOING ON A SPACE TRIP WHERE HE CANT DRINK ALCOHOL#AND WHEN HE COMES BACK THE PERSON HE WAS ON THE SPACE TRIP IS LIKE “NO SIR YOU ARE NOT DRINKING MORE”#THEN IT BECAME SO COMPLICATED#also fun thing (?) is that you never get to meet lutangalos mother in his books but she gets an entire chapter to herself in the humanity#series#her name is caroline and yes she was the lady i was gushing about#i often fall in love with the characters i write#fall in love from an aro ace perspective is weird but it basically means im devoted to them?#for me it was less platonic and more spiritual#but then again internally my love for my friends do appear more worshippy then friends but alas thats a different issue#i really love this story and how indepth it is but also hate it because it takes up so much brain storage and im afriad ill forget stuff#its not even very high on my priorities#its below fixem which isnt even a story i really enjoy#dnd is my priority honestly#endersgame#inspired books are really cool but i never saw one that focused on the thousands of years in the future bit#i want to die#but i must write#i swear if i die before i finish my dnd campaign im going to kill everyone
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It's interesting that both Storm and Pietro mention Magnetos tendency to Martyr himself and Wandas sudden steadfast allegiance to Magneto is brough up in both RoM and SW&QS. I wonder if Orlando and Ewing were talking behind the scenes or we'll see a tie in.
It's also interesting to note that Wanda only starts arguing back and yelling at Pietro when he brings this fact up. With Wanda bringing up Pietro's murder three times in the twins series and Magneto only not mentioning or alluding to Pietro of all his children despite his wall It's also interesting to note that Wanda only starts arguing back and yelling at Pietro when he brings this fact up. With Wanda bringing up Pietro's murder three times in the twins series and Magneto only not mentioning or alluding to Pietro of all his children despite his wall of victims this is a fascinating parallel between father and daughter and makes me wonder whats in store for Pietro and Magneto in particular as both Uncanny Avengers and SW&QS notes that Pietro and Magneto didn't get a chance to talk before Magneto died.
Wanda getting angry at Pietro drawing parallels is so interesting here. Like I don't think she burned that letter just to protect Pietro even if that was her priority and he knows her better than anyone and is calling her out on it.
And she doesnt like that it crumbles her imagine of Magneto and perhaps herself so she is pulling out something from dear old DaddyMags playbook and verbally abusing him.Though Pietro can hold his own and give as good as he gets so like with that fight in the Robinson books she has to resort to being cruel.
Wanda might be the most like Erik spirituality - sure Pietro has his looks and Lorna has his powers but they don't really have his personality quite the same way Wanda does. Wanda is more like her brother in their fundamental family first above all else, they are not revolutionaries like their dad but Wanda has Magnetos cold calculated rage, ability to use her words in the cruelest way possible, his charm and ability to draw people to follow and dedicate themselves to her, she hides more of herself from others than Lorna or Pietro do. Her dedicated ying and Yang with Pietro kind of mirrors Charles and Magneto but way less toxic and 100% platonic.
#pietro maximoff#quicksilver#wanda maximoff#maximoff twins#magnet family#magneto#resurrection of magneto#Storm#ororo munroe#max eisenhardt#erik lensherr#scarlet witch & quicksilver (2024)#scarlet witch and quicksilver#Scarlet Witch
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Okay so. How I think the bg3 companions hug. If you even care. If you ever wanted to know I guess….
Karlach? Oh she’s a STRONG hugger. At first after her engine is more or less settled, she’d be a very big hugger but she wouldn’t be the best at it at first. Like she has the energy but doesn’t know what to do with her hands at first. She has been wanting to give affection or hug or literally do anything with people for 10 years, so she is a bit excited to try it all out. She does learn quickly though due to so many fuckin options for hugging. She has a warm embrace type of thing going on which is pretty nice in mix of Astarion or maybe Shadowheart? Also, she is a LONG hugger. Type to have your limbs swaying all about if you get hugged by her.
Wyll is a very good hugger. The type who does a little sway during the hug. Like he’s normally the one rocking the other or soothing your back or something. It's less that he takes charge, but he does try and comfort first. He’s just a nice guy for a good hug. let’s be honest he’s a really nice guy. FUCK I love Wyll. He doesn’t do it all the time, but he doesn’t detest hugs, so if you ask he’s gonna give you a hug. He’s the blade of frontiers, so he is gonna be giving buddies hugs. Part of the code and shit.
so Astarion is changing with the arc here. Act one? If you even get the chance, he may hug you but it’s nothing to long or intimate. It’s usually just a step to something else or more of…A grapple I guess????Unless needed or brought up by somebody else, he's not up for hugs in a platonic or less sexual fashion. Act two he is not gonna be the one initiating the hug still but won’t try and squeeze out as often. Kinda just tucks himself in and can almost relax. Act three and epilouge? Oh bro is just lookin for hugs at that point. Not from anybody mind you, but from the people he trusts? A good hug seems to settle him. He's a bit cold so it's nice for hot days or after a burning battle or something. Normally the one getting hugged, so he has a bit of trouble sometimes taking charge in the hug but bro sometimes tries.
Lae'zel has probably never been hugged in her fucking life. She probably doesn't care for it greatly, probably batting you away at first. She seems the type of hugger to more shield instead of soothe? Like would wrap an arm around somebody when like yelling at an aggressor like an angry sister or parent would. Intimacy that isn't a trick or just sexual doesn't seem to fit well for Lae'zel usually, but I don't really know if she'd HATE hugs. would probably get ringed into one by Karlach a few too many times tho.
Gale is probably a GREAT hugger, not one to go out and give them all around willy nilly but would do like a cradle type situation. Just wrap you in and sway a bit. Definitely a LONG hugger and seems pretty invested in affection. Will put his entire self into the hug just outta nowhere. Like "Oh, thank you for giving me that artifact this morning, it truly was a lovely gesture." and just give you a heart-throbbing hug. His entire thing is that he will do anything for people he cares for and that probably bleeds into his hugs. Also, it's noticeable that Gale wasn't given much physical connection with Mystra, more of the spiritual kind that he describes in his romance scene. He's probably a bit new to it and DEFINITELY starved for it.
Shadowheart is a bit complicated. Act one? Like B-grade hugger. Isn't asking for any and probably won't give many, but she would be okay at em. Hasn't been given any in a long while, probably sense she got taken by shar's followers. If she continues to follow Shar, shitty ass hugs. No doubt it's just quiet and nothing ad no real intimacy. Shar denier? OH THE BEST HUG. Soft and supportive. It's a wild card with Shadowheart. Either the sweetest little hug you'll get after a soft moment or like cold and way to fast.
#baldurs gate wyll#baldurs gate karlach#baldurs gate gale#baldurs gate astarion#baldurs gate laezel#baldurs gate shadowheart#shadowheart#wyll ravengard#astarion ancunin#gale dekarios#lae'zel#karlach cliffgate
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uehehehehehehehe saiki with a reader who loves to bake sweets?? Romantic or platonic is fine!! Take ur time <3333
SAIKI K X BAKER!READER
!warnings!
GN!reader
after science class, the teacher announced a test would be coming up soon.
you went up to saiki asking begging to help you study since you are struggling in the subject.
saiki found you less annoying then the rest of the students at PK, so none the less, he agreed.
you said you’d meet him at his house around, 5PM. not immediately after school but way later since school ended.
when saiki agreed you smiled and said, “i’ll surprise you with something since i know you don’t like having people around, take it as my thanks saiki!”
when he heard you think ‘mh, he likes sweet stuff right? maybe strawberry cake’ll do it! god, i hope he likes it.’
yeah, saiki knew he was gonna love having you over.
when he got home, even though saiki can hear everyones thoughts, was lazer focused onto yours.
‘i gotta taste the batter, what if it’s too bitter? nevermind, i think it tastes good!’
‘i just gotta pack these slices then it’ll be good! im so excited to see him, gosh what if his family’s there?!’
oh yeah. he didn’t tell his parents he’s gonna have you over.
“ah, hi ku! is everything alright?”
“kusou! your father needs some help with somethi-”
“no. and i’m going to have someone here in awhile. so please, do not be weird and swarm them with questions.”
the two of them looked like they were gonna cry.
they were shouting stuff like “our baby ku is making more friends than we though?!” and “oh my! we MUST make dinner to greet them, gosh i hope they like the food!!!”
this is what he didn’t want to happen, but it was too late to stop them because a bell rang at the door.
how did he miss you? he would’ve prepared sooner!!!!
“i’ll get it! ah, im so happy for you ku!”
suddenly saiki’s father appeared behind his mother tearing up in excitement.
“i’ll just open the door.”
“too late kusou, your mothers already opened the door and is obsessing over them and- OH MY GOD IS THAT STRAWBERRY CAKE?”
saiki just stood awkwardly in the back as he watched his parents force you to sit onto their dinner table as you three ate the cake you brought.
“me and y/n have to STUDY. please leave us alone.”
“c’mon ku! eat this delicious cake with us, your friend worked extra hard for this!”
saiki sighed and sat down in the wooden chair beside you as you passed him a slice of your cake.
“i hope you like it saiki, i made it with you in mind. we can study later!”
he grabbed his fork and stabbed a piece of the fluffy cake and put it in his mouth.
when the cake touched his taste buds his aura totally changed!
he had a cutesy, happy aura around him instead of that cold feeling that surrounds him at all times.
he’s smiling while going for the last bite of the cake but suddenly drops the smile as it hits him thats that is the last bite of his slice.
“well, we better get studying huh? should we stay here or go to your room saiki?”
“my room.”
the two of you studied until you physically, mentally and spiritually could not.
when you were getting ready to leave saiki asked you,
“do you know how to make coffee jelly?”
“absolutely i do! my nephew loves it so i make it for him all the time!”
“could you make it for me tomorrow for lunch? its fine if you can’t..”
“awe, of course i can saiki! but i gotta get going, my moms gonna freak if i don’t get home soon.”
before you could even open the door his mom’s rushing to you thanking you for coming and how you’re so good looking!
oh ku must be so lucky if your his friend, maybe you guys should—
alright thats enough!
saiki rushed you out of the door and wished you well and quickly teleported to his room to avoid the questions he knows he’s gonna get drowned in.
in the blink of an eye saiki was in bed ready to sleep but he couldn’t.
not because of the incoming thoughts from others 24/7, because he was fantasizing about that coffee jelly he was gonna eat tomorrow.
saiki may be an all powerful being with no weakness, but your treats made him feel normal.
he really really likes your baking and you. <3
AUTHOR NOTES!
haha…hi guys.
pls dont be mad😭😭 i just lowkey forgot that i post fics…!
but i’m gettinh ready to post another fic today! i swear! maybe tomorrow.
december 3rd, 2022. 6:42.
#bluetoraa#kusuo saiki#saiki k x reader#kusou saiki x reader#saiki x reader#baker!reader#the disasterous life of saiki k#xoxo!<3
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Miss Nectarine ~ Johanna Mason x Femme Reader
Warnings: Homphobia
This is a hunger games one shot based on the song Miss Nectarine by Ashnikko. Enjoy :)
It started when we were 14. District 7 was unbearably hot in August so you and your best friend Johanna decided to go down to the lake and swim. The specific lake you went to was small and somewhat out of the way of most people in your district, so you two often opted to swim sans clothing as you couldn’t afford bathing suits and wearing wet jeans sucked.
“Earth to y/n,” Johanna states, snapping you out of your trance. You definitely weren’t staring at her…
“What?” you ask.
“We should get going,” Johanna says as she wades towards shore to put back on her clothes. “The mill will be closing for the day soon and I don’t want the creepy old lumberjack men coming over to our lake to stare at us.”
“Fine,” you relent as you exit the water and put on your clothes as well.
“Tomorrow meet me at the lumber yard by my house at dawn,” you tell her. This was your favorite place to meet up besides the lake. She agrees and you depart for your house.
Your parents were less than enthused about your friendship with Johanna. Many townsfolk had seen you two skinny dipping and no matter how many times both of you had told your parents you were just friends, the neighbors still gossiped.
Being gay in District 7 was seen as a big no no. The people in the district were weirdly spiritual, believing that if you were gay you would go to a bad place in the afterlife. Neither you nor Johanna believed any of it but it was hard to avoid hearing it.
You actually met Johanna at a spiritual service your parents took you to for the autumn festival a few years ago. Johanna was the only other girl your age who didn’t seem to be into the lessons either. And she was undeniably attractive.
“Were you out with Johanna again?” your mother asks as you arrive home, noticing your wet hair.
“Yea uh we just went swimming,” you reply. “It’s hot.”
“Y/n what did I tell you about going swimming with Johanna?” your mother scolds you. “People are going to think you’re a homosexual and burn you at the stake.”
You quickly head to your room, realizing that what your mother said was correct even if it wasn’t fair.
Meeting up with Johanna in the mornings before school was always your favorite time of day. The lumber yard by your house sat on a hill that was perfect for watching the sunrise over the forest. The two of you often used this time to laugh about the people at school or talk about the latest neighborhood gossip.
“Omg y/n I met the cutest guy on my walk home yesterday!” Johanna gushes to you.
“Oh uh what’s his name?” you ask.
“His name is Jack and he’s in the grade above us. The super cute guy with the brown spiked hair,” she replies.
“I think I’ve seen him,” you shrug.
“He wants to hang out after school today and I’m so nervous,” Johanna exclaims. “What if he wants to kiss me?”
“Then you kiss him,” you state.
“But I don’t know how to kiss people,” Johanna sighs, seemingly frustrated with herself.
After a moment of silence, Johanna suddenly blurts out, “Can we practice? Kissing I mean. I want to know what I’m doing when Jack kisses me.”
Stupidly agreeing, you proceed to kiss Johanna, the girl you have had a crush on for 2 years, and a girl who would never love you back. Kissing her was even better than you had pictured it, but she was the most boy crazy person you knew. No matter what there would always be boys that would be her first choice over you.
Your routine of practicing kissing with Johanna continues up until you’re 16. You claim it’s so you can “get really good at it” but really you just want to kiss her. In those moments you can close your eyes and pretend she’s really yours.
Meetups now involve liquor and short shorts as you continue riding the fuzzy line between friends and more than friends. It was never more than kissing, and never more than platonic on her end, but you wish it was something real.
This dream shatters when her mother catches you two kissing at the lumber yard one morning. Johanna had forgotten her lunch at home so her mother had gone to your house in an attempt to find her, and your mother pointed her in the direction of the lumber yard. Her mother flew into a rage, more over the kissing than the alcohol, and dragged Johanna by her hair back to her house, screaming at her the whole way.
You immediately followed and tried to apologize. Saying how it was all your idea and Johanna had nothing to do with it. Tears streamed down your face as you realized what Johanna’s parents would do to her. No matter how much you tried to take the blame for what happened, you both were now painted as “sexual deviants”. Maybe if you attended more spiritual events with your mother this feeling inside of you would go away, and you would be seen as normal. Maybe you could “fix” yourself in the eyes of your community.
You didn’t see Johanna for almost a year after that date. Her parents sent her off to a camp for troubled youth and your parents grounded you and kept you in the house. Every single day you wished you could go back and undo it all; save Johanna from the punishments she’s enduring. It’s not fair. Maybe one day you’ll live in a district where you could love anyone you wanted to, but not now and not here in 7.
The next time you saw Johanna was at the reaping ceremony. Her hair was longer and her body seemed strong. The camp she had attended was known for working the kids in the forests so her muscles had grown. She seemed angry and dejected, as if she was still being punished for what happened. You wanted more than anything to go stand next to her but her mother would have your head if she caught you.
After that day you realized that you could never have Johanna. Your boy crazy best friend was shipped off to the games and came back a victor. She moved to the other side of the district and now had her choice of any boy she wanted. You would always be the second choice.
She was your Miss Nectarine, and you were the girl who ruined her life.
#hunger games#the hunger games#hunger games angst#the hunger games fanfiction#ashnikko#johanna mason#Johanna x reader#Johanna x y/n#hunger games x reader#district 7#femme reader
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"like normal people do" - Sai/Shikako, cosmic horror under the guise of romance
Anonymous asked:
"Memento Mori," Master of Death!Harry Potter/Shikabane-hime!Shikako, vows under the auspices (only shooting stars)-verse, because I really just want to see these two reluctant gods of death being sweet and earnest and soft with each other as the rest of the world watches in bemusement and/or wariness
Anonymous asked:
Nec deus intersit, nisi dignus vindice nodus (inciderit), Shikabane-Hime 🌌🌟🦌🖤🌠
damnsmartblueboxes asked:
jic tumblr ate my counting corvids fake title asks: Would you ever write an Original? Fiction about accidental body cohabitation & platonic devotion? Like cyborg & ai, Venom-style, transmigration, however the temple that is a body is devoted to two gods :p
Because there are SO MANY prompts left in my inbox and I am RUNNING OUT OF DAYS and, also, these four resonated when I went through my inbox, I will be answering these prompts together, I hope you don’t mind anon(s) and @damnsmartblueboxes!
Let me start by saying: while I do look fondly on my fic vows under the auspices (only shooting stars) and consider it some of my best work as well as love how it endeared people to my genin OCs for jounin sensei!Shikako, I’d rather not further engage in the Harry Potter franchise for obvious reasons.
However, the concept of reluctant god of death still applies to Shikabane-hime!Shikako even without an equally reluctant god of death counterpart, and the premise of your prompt still applies, for the most part, especially in combination with the other anon prompt of cosmic horror under the guise of romance. The dynamic of affection from an eldritch being, whether romantic or, as in damnsmartblueboxes’ prompt, platonic.
And what turns these prompts from my darling, dearest ambiguous vibes of god nonsense into an actually plot is the latin phrase prompt: Nec deus intersit, nisi dignus vindice nodus (inciderit) which translates to “That a god not intervene, unless a knot show up that be worthy of such an untangler” or less literally “When the miraculous power of God is necessary, let it be resorted to: when it is not necessary, let the ordinary means be used.”
All of this mixes into the following:
Shikako’s post-Jashin coma is not JUST mental/spiritual backlash of surviving a hostile outer god’s attack. It is, in fact, a chrysalis for mortal!Shikako to turn into burgeoning eldritch god!Shikabane-hime.
UNFORTUNATELY, it gets interrupted by the entirely well-meaning, and necessarily intervention of Sai—who, even so early on, is so ready to defy Danzo on Shikako’s behalf that it’s not even funny.
The thing is—at least with butterflies—you can’t really stop the metamorphosis without, you know, killing the pupa, and if you, for example, poke a hole in the cocoon, the liquified goop that is on its way into becoming a butterfly just… spills out and dies. Uhoh
Thankfully, our girl is NOT a literal pupa. But her metamorphosis has been interrupted. What’s a devoted disciple of a burgeoning eldritch god to do?
Basically, Sai is the mortal/physical touchstone for evolving deity Shikabane-hime. I do also like playing with the idea that worship can look like dating from an outside POV—after all, whether to a partner or a god, devotion is devotion even if differently flavored.
In the damnsmartblueboxes’ vein of Original Fiction, I once wrote a script playing with the idea that the grieving process can look like a messy break up—it involved a ghost, also—so the above concept is the arguably more lighthearted version of that. I mean, it’s not entirely lighthearted, what with the eldritch god and the cosmic horror but, you know. It’s not sad, per se.
I also, keeping in line with damnsmartblueboxes’ prompt and also my own leanings in regard to canon!DoS Shikako and Sai’s relationship, would make this a platonic fic. Mostly because I think canon!DoS has SO MUCH power over Sai. Like. Again, that devotion. I didn’t make it up. That’s in there. Sai is so ready to defy Danzo’s orders to protect Shikako. The power imbalance is just too much.
I am a multishipper, so I do think there is a version of Sai and Shikako that COULD work romantically. There’s even a version of Sai and eldritch god!Shikako that could work romantically in an AU. But since the brainstorm we’re currently running along is more canon divergence than AU, I think this would work BEST as platonic. Especially to further contrast the cosmic horror under the guise of romance. Like, if it isn’t even at all romantic, just cosmic horror and platonic devotion, that makes the juxtaposition all the greater.
Anyway, as I was saying, the plot part of this is: mortal touchstone/devoted disciple!Sai is a very competent shinobi on his own, but even he can’t deal with [[insert divine level threat here]]. Everyone knows that Shikako has been teaching him fuinjutsu—that they have been getting closer/getting along more so than before—but everyone is surprised when he breaks out what looks to be the Shiki Fujin but instead of summoning the Shinigami it is instead the debut of the Shikabane-hime in full force.
What is the divine level threat? Maybe it’s Jashin again and this time, Shikabane-hime gets to go toe to toe with him rather than just slamming the door in his face. Or maybe it’s moon aliens O_O
#jacksgreyson#anonymous#damnsmartblueboxes#ask box advent calendar#vows under the auspices (only shooting stars)#dreaming of sunshine#sai#shikako nara
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I like the sentiment in your last post, but how do I actually feel that way? I am aroace and honestly the way I feel about it is like my very severe shellfish allergy. I really want to try shrimp based off how people describe it to me. Some people say it's their favourite food. I would not enjoy eating shrimp because of the subsequent symptoms, but that doesn't mean that I don't want it. With romance and sex it's a thousand times worse because it's everywhere all the time. My parents are happily married. I feel awful every time I visit them. I'll never have that.
It can help a bit to deconstruct it. I like the food allergy analogy, because yeah sometimes sex/romance straight up isn't accessible to people. I've used chocolate in the past too, because some people are allergic, some people straight up don't like it, but man do people act like eating chocolate is a spiritual experience sometimes. I personally haven't happened to have chocolate at all in the last few years, not because I can't but because my body reacts oddly to sugar, and chocolate just matters less to me than how sugar makes me feel. I don't dislike chocolate, but it really is just a food.
Sex and romance are the same, they are important to some people, they are enjoyable to some people, they are meaningful to some people. But they're also just things, and that's not everyone's experience, and this is the case for so many things. It's also healthy even for allosexual and alloromantic people to take sex and romance off their pedestals, because it creates unrealistic expectations and makes it harder to look at them through a more pragmatic lens.
The other thing I'd recommend is try following more ace/aro blogs (both focused on asexuality/aromanticism, but also just regular people who happen to be ace and aro too), think about joining communities, either to lurk or participate, and try and seek out more ace/aro media or ace/aro friendly media. It can help a lot to see real complex people who also feel the same you do about romance and sex and who are happy and well adjusted and living their lives. And it's good in general to have people you can relate to and share experiences with.
And avoid things that push the message that romance and sex are these big important universally meaningful experiences. If you're consuming media with those messages take a break and find things that focus more on platonic relationship, found family or other things entirely. If you know someone who talks about this a lot, find ways to change the subject.
I'm sorry you're having a hard time, Anon, but hopefully this is helpful. All the best!
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Kaz Brekker x gn! Reader - Haunting Y/n L/n
A/n: This came from the pits of hell apparently
Heartbreak week masterlist?
Summary: A ghost from the past that doesn't quite feel too far gone whispers in your ear making you wonder whether you imagined it or not
Warnings: death, heartbreak, murder, swearing, PTSD, trauma, spiritual stuff, I think that's it? You have been warned!
The three P's:
[Pronouns used: you/your] [Pov: 2nd person] [Pairings: (romanitc!) kaz x reader (platonic!) crows x reader]
You were shaking with anger, and horrible tears tracked down your face, while your eyes held the sorrow of a million soldiers. You had just botched the job today all because of one reason - Kaz Brekker was gone.
He had been for a few weeks now, fucking Pekka Rollins had killed him, his face right before he died remained forever engraved in your head. As that moment played in your head over, and over again. You didn't want to remember, you would beg Kaz to let you go every day and night. You feared sleep, yet you feared the daytime where you would see him everywhere.
Generally the job was going well, till you heard him whisper in your ear, his unmistakable presence behind you and a ghost of a hand over your arm; "They have you surrounded."
Had first you didn't believe it, you were just hallucinating again, Kaz wasn't there, ghosts weren't fucking real! It was fine, you were just being delusional! Yet you couldn't shake the feeling that this was different from precedent times - in the previous ones he would shout at you for letting him die. This just didn't feel the same way as those other ones did, but it didn't make you feel any less crazy.
Then it turned out to be true.
You didn't want to tell the Crows, they already worried about you enough with the waking up screaming and the zoning out, you didn't need to give them a reason to take you off every job for the rest of your life. Permanently.
But you knew he was there somehow, because you didn't have a fucking sixth sense, and really... Okay, maybe you didn't have more than that but what else could you say?
So then you went on another heist, and someone had pushed you out of a way of a bullet but as soon as you caught a glimpse of that gloved handed criminal he had disappeared into thin air.
Then the next one you had been captured, and you couldn't help but shiver in fear while they placed the cuffs on you. You knew who your captor was and you knew that they didn't have a very good reputation with keeping their temper. It was then where you had faced the very real possibility that you were going to die at the hands of a terrifying human being.
There, while you waited in your cell with fear having it's iron grip on you, leaving you with nothing but to relinquish to your fate.
Then he appeared.
Kaz fucking Brekker had come out of the shadows, seemingly floating off the ground the tiniest bit with his normal attire that he used to wear. Yet he looked nearly translucent like he wasn't supposed to be there - as if he had pulled every string possible in the universe to show up there.
Even then you knew that this was Kaz Brekker but not living no - Kaz was definitely dead. This was a ghost. You knew this because of the way he was looking at you, unguarded, walls completely down, Kaz Brekker had only given a fraction of that to you while he was alive because that's all he could afford to give.
He had gotten you out of there, that cell, the fate of certain death. Since then he started to talk to you;
"Can other people see you?"
"Of course they can, don't be stupid L/n why do you think I've been so scarce?" His ghostly form floated next to you as you did some paperwork for the Dregs.
"Why do you haunt me? Why not Pekka Rollins? We both know he deserves it more then me."
He didn't say anything for a long time, not until he had come over to you and placed a hand on your cheek forcing you to look into those eyes. Oh, you hated those eyes.
"I'm bound to you angel, it's... Complicated to say the least but that's just how it is. It's like the same way that you run everything and keep my memory alive."
You threw the papers you were just working on at him yet they just went right threw him because according to him he could only touch things when he focused or you. He could touch you whenever.
Your face was contorted with rage and grief.
"You've left me before! Why can't you just leave again!"
"I can't."
Today though, you got ready for a job with the Crows, trying so hard to not let your eyes flick over to the shadows. It had been awhile after you had found out Kaz was bound to you, and you just couldn't make your peace with it. All you could see every time you saw him was his death over and over again. But that didn't mean the Crows knew, they didn't even know that the Bastard of the Barrel was back.
You heard his voice in your ear while everyone else were discussing the plans; of course because he didn't want anyone of you to join him in death.
"We need to go in through the west doors not the east."
Your voice startles the Crows, you don't usually talk very much anymore and your eyes were just unfocused a minute ago leaving no clue that you were even listening to their conversation at all. They had long since gotten used to it, so to hear you speak up for the first time in a while was a shock.
"Why?" Wylan questioned you while everyone seemed to be asking the same question silently.
"Just trust me alright? If not then trust... the spirits or whatever the fuck you want to call them."
They pause for a moment before deciding that they would go with your suggestion. They had to trust you, you were a crow too and trusting is a two way street. Even if the way you put it was strange to say the least.
Though they would soon find out what you truly had meant.
The crows were all fighting together, although they had taken your advice there were still guards after all of you.
Most of you, however were in view, were spread out, and you were alone and backed onto a cliff.
"You're never alone." A wicked voice whispered happily in your mind even though the circumstances were anything but.
One of the men pushed as you were distracted by your own manic thoughts, causing you to fall backwards.
An arm grabbed your waist from behind as Kaz stopped your fall and pulled you right up next to him with an unmatched fury in his eyes.
It was not time for you to join him in death, if he had it his way it would never be.
Pulling out his trademark cane he started wrecking havoc, and were killing them off left and right. All for ever laying a hand on you, his angel.
Eventually they all laid dead, as it was impossible to kill a ghost, then Kaz turned around and floated over to you.
For some reason or another you snapped, you didn't know why but seeing him there again like that. Fighting like he used to, it was just too much for your brain to handle. You were shaking with tears streaming down your face as Kaz slowly placed a hand on your cheek. You let out a horrid sob as you fell to the ground and looked up at the sky.
All you could see was his death, you saw him die in your mind everyday. You wanted to move on from your despair, to free your mind from this torment. But you didn't want him to leave your side, because that would mean leaving again. Yet it was all too much, you wanted him but it hurt so much when you did.
The crows looked at the scene in front of them in disbelief. Kaz Brekker had done the impossible again, of course the fucker figured out how to be a visible ghost.
"Leave me alone Kaz!" You wept. "I can't-"
"Shh, love." He whispered in your ear and brought your lips to his.
It was incredible, and some part of you was over the moon that he could touch you like this, even if it took death to do so. Yet you could feel that ghostly timid to his lips, and you pulled away as a cry tore through your throat.
"Please Kaz, I can't take seeing you die again!"
Kaz looked down at you with sorrowful eyes.
"I'm sorry angel, but I can't."
And you sobbed, because you had him right in front of you but you so desperately wanted to see him alive.
Words 1456
-thedelusionreaderbitch
Grishaverse taglist: @kaqua @rika90 @thefandomplace @musical-theatre-obsessed-dumbass @gallysonegoodlung @navs-bhat @sumsebien @dontjudgeabookbythecover @brekker-zenik @alohastitch0626 @brekkers-desigirl @emmsamultifan06
Heartbreak week: @igotanidea @hawkinsbaby
#kaz brekker#kaz brekker x reader#heartbreak week#kaz x reader#kaz x y/n#kaz brekker x y/n#kaz brekker x you#inej ghafa#jesper fahey#wylan van eck#nina zenik#matthais helvar#delusion writes#kaz brekker x gn! reader#six of crows#the crows#shadow and bone#the grishaverse#grishaverse#sab#soc#angst
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This is probably gonna sound like a dumb question (and I’m sorry in advance) but I literally know the bare minimum about the Flashfam and their lore, so here we go. You’ve talked before about Kon being Bart’s “Lightning Rod” and from my understanding, it’s more or less a soulmate. Can you tell me more about that?
Hello and apologies for taking so long to get on this one.
A "lightning rod" when it comes to Flash Lore is basically someone who prevents a Speedster from becoming one with the speedforce, or acts as an anchor to find their way back when otherwise lost in speed related... debacles. Like a bolt of lightning to a metal pole they are attracted to them. They are people of whom a speedster has an emotional bond with, romantically, platonically or even antagonistically.
The comics naturally focus more on those that share a romantic bond with a speedster, but there is evidence to support that any strong bond can make a lightning rod regardless of the type of bond they have.
Jay's lightning rod is his sweet Joan of whom being his lightning rod had her own aging 'slowed' to match his (it's a little more complicated than that but for simplicity that is what is going on).
For Barry, Iris is his lightning rod which he was able to use on several occasions to pull himself out of the time stream and back to his own time.
Wally's legendary bond with Linda as a lightning rod is blatant as she helped pull him from the speedforce after he had already merged with it.
There are other instances of Iris and Linda both being lightning rods where not only do they help their speedsters manage their own powers, but by being lightning rods it helps the speedster keep them safe and prevent their own deaths or grievous harm, or in Jay's case extend Joan's life.
The tell-tale sign of a lightning rod for a speedster is of course a romantic bond, or a persistent attraction bringing the two together.
The comics will also blatantly tell you who a lightning rod is eventually using those words, where by then they get... bonus features (like Joan having her aging impacted, Linda getting powers etc).
For Bart we don't have the comics using those specific words for anyone, but in looking at the behaviors of other lightning rods and their speedsters we can sort of extrapolate that Kon, Cassie and Tim are his lightning rods with possibly Cissie (realistically she would be one but she dropped off from continuity so we didn't get to see her much after 2003).
Kon being one with an intense 'pull' for Bart is something that has the most evidence in Young Justice 2019 when Bart worked exhaustively to find Kon and to bring Young Justice back together.
When the newly formed Young Justice sans Kon were all zapped to Gemworld they were all scattered but it was Bart who appeared literally right next to Kon. Everyone else had been deposited in more random places, but not Bart. This suggests that while he does have a bond with Tim and Cassie, it is to Kon that he may have a special bond with.
There are other instances of Kon's existence being a focal point for Bart throughout their comic relationship such as during the World Without Young Justice arc where a de-powered mundane Kon was able to give Bart the courage and strength to overcome his deep paralyzing fear to reabsorb his dying scouts.
Also Kon and Bart have an intense friendship where there are multiple instances where they pick each other up and seek each other out which is at least the grounding basics for a lightning rod. For further reading on that you can look at the Konbart Manifesto.
To quantify if a lightning rod is a soulmate is a little mushy. If you are a romantic sort and the idea of soulmates pleases you tremendously then yes a lightning rod can be used to describe one, but there are more 'extras' that come with a lightning rod than just an intense burning love and a 'meant to be' attraction.
There is something more physical, metaphysical, spiritual and atomic about their bond than it being a divine uncontrollable force. There is an element of spookiness involved for sure, but there also is an element of choice about who become one based on built up love.
A lightning rod is something as profound as a gravitational pull for a speedster; their relationship is like Earth and our moon where Earth is a speedster and the moon is a lightning rod. Without the moon as a ballest Earth's stability in orbit would likely change catastrophically and for a speedster this is also the case.
I hope this makes some semblance of sense.
TLDR: A lightning rod is like a soulmate that a speedster has semi-control over but is no less spooky and endearing.
#bartkon#konbart#lightning rods#flashfam#bart allen#kon el#conner kent#to note though barry and wally have more lightning rods#hal for barry#and dick for wally#piper is likely one too for wally#jay's friendship with alan could be extrapolated to include him as well but i am not sure on that one#the other speedsters are a whole other monolith too
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just gonna ramble about my personal experience with being objectum!
also making this a little "share your story" post!
feel free to add your own experience, regardless of how odd you may think it is or how few people you see with the same views.
are you posic? no? do you believe your objectum feelings are due to or partially due to past experiences or neurodivergency? do you only feel certain attraction for objects and do you feel attraction to people? do you experience stuff with your objectum identity that you dont often see other objectum people talk about? i'd love to hear different peoples pov of this!
my personal stuff under the cut!
I feel a tad bit odd about my personal experience with being os/or / objectum. i'm not posic really? i dont view objects as having souls or being alive in any capacity, though a lot of people ive seen on here do that. for me, having something fully able to react and such as a human does kind of puts me off as it brings back any stress of human interaction i experience. this isnt to say i think nothing of the objects around me.
im more of a lowkey spiritual person, i dont practice many things activily, but i hold beliefs. one of those beliefs is everything having energy inside of it. this isn't necessarily a soul or being alive, but regardless of that energies can be attractive. its why i consider myself masc-leaning os/or. things with more "masculine" energy or far more attractive to me.
i can come up with personalities, names, gender, etc for objects, and usually they come naturally based on that energy, but when it comes down to it i dont believe anything of that sort is necessarily real. that doesnt stop me from being attached to and attracted objects, concepts, places, etc.
people have never been very interesting to me, im not sure how much of that is influenced by my being ND (though, definitely the lack of even platonic or familial bonding is part of that), and for me alternative things have always been easier for me to bond and become attached to and i refer to myself as aroace because of this, since im really not attracted to people at all. objects have always been a safe space for me to seek comfort, be openly awkward or embarrassing, experiment, confide in, and honestly it has always been more satisfying and less negative for me that connecting with people, since that doesn't come naturally to me personally.
my object bonding doesnt stop at just positive bonds either lol, there are some objects i HATE (especially some of the machines at my work place... i swear they are difficult on purpose, only act up when they shouldnt... they have the energy of cranky old people doing everything out of spite...). but usually, my bonding is more confusing, i dont think in the simply terms of bonds (platonic, romantic, sexual, aesthetics, whatever) as ive never really understood them too much, and a lot of them overlap or are different depending on time and mood or object ofc. objects are also a space i dont have to be worried about that with though.
i know a lot of objectum people are very attached to their objects of course, and i am too, but due to past experiences with having things taken from me / thrown out on me / changed without my permission, and nd issues with apathy and such i dont think im as caring about "hurting" (again dont view my objects as alive so they cant really be hurt imo) or throwing away objects as even sentimental non-objectum people honestly.
#objectumsexual#objectum rambles#objectum#os/or#os/or positivity#objectum romantic#significant object#objectum positivity#personal#posic#raccoon rambling#open for interaction#osor#object of affection
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FIC: i can't hide from you like i hide from myself
Buffy's spent four years trying to forget the revelation that her and Faith are soulmates, whatever that means.
Faith's been tracing a scar that's not hers for months.
(Giles, frankly, is terrified.)
10, 983 words; complete; explicit
Read on Ao3
“Am I being punished, Giles? Am I cursed?”
Giles pushes his glasses up. “No—” He clears his throat, sliding his open book toward her, “quite the opposite, I believe.”
“Giles, please tell me this is a joke.”
“Hardly. The concept of soulmates is long-standing, with myths and accounts dating back thousands of years in plenty of cultures across the world—”
“You know that’s not what I meant!”
He sighs. “There’s many variations on the concept, but one moreso than others: a grave injury dealt to one will leave a mark on the other. It’s, erm, somewhat more well-documented with Slayers, due to the penchant for harm. Still, very rare.”
“Okay, cool, soulmates exist! Big deal! I’m a bit more hung up on the part where you seem to be implying mine is Faith.”
Because there’s no way. Faith is evil, and, well, a girl, more (or less?) importantly.
“Ah, yes… that.”
He’s cleaning his glasses again, and Buffy’s starting to wonder if it’s some weird coping strategy.
“While I’m aware the popular narrative tends to highlight the idea of romantic soulmates, the truth is, it’s often much more complicated than that. A platonic, even spiritual link—”
“Are you just trying to make me feel better?” She asks, crossing her arms.
“No, Buffy. It’s in the book if you’d rather read it for yourself.”
He gestures to the book in front of her — the one she’s been deliberately avoiding looking at.
That would make it too real. Which it definitely isn’t. “I’d rather not.”
“It is quite possible it has something to do with you both being the Slayer. It’s never happened before, so I’m afraid I have no reference.”
“Can we talk about literally anything else now? Like, I don’t know, the rapidly approaching apocalypse?”
“Potential apocalypse,” he clarifies, “hopefully an averted one if all goes well.”
“Hey, look on the bright side. You get to blow stuff up.”
“Perhaps I’d be more excited if it weren’t an institute of learning.”
“Yeah, but this one’s on top of a gateway to hell. I say that makes it even.”
Giles sighs, and shakes his head, hiding his smile and holding back laughter.
The moment passes, and he goes back to his research, while Buffy traces the wood grain of the table, just past the book.
“It’s just, if Faith is my soulmate — and I’m not saying she is — why does she hate me? What, are we like fated enemies?”
“It’s unlikely. The book speaks of a close bond that can reveal deep personal truths. And… are you sure that’s how she feels?”
“Giles,” Buffy says, looking him in the eyes. “If she didn’t before, she does now.”
“And what the future could hold?”
“Probably not a lot. I mean… the way we fought together, yeah, I get it, but… there’s no coming back from almost killing someone.”
“She was trying to harm you. It was self-defense.”
“And you think that’ll make her feel any better about the fact that I stabbed her? If she even wakes up?”
“I can’t claim to understand the mind of a teenage girl, but I do understand these books, Buffy. This is a unique bond, one that can’t be broken by mortal affairs.”
She’s been thinking about what Giles said to her that day since Faith showed up in her living room. Thinking about it, and trying to forget it.
--
“B?” Faith’s voice rings through the empty house from the foyer. Closer; “I know you’re here.”
She’s been thinking it about it since he told her. In a lot of different ways. The whole five stages of grief, really. If the thought of Faith’s lips on her own had ever crossed her mind, she made sure it didn’t show.
Because she so hasn’t spent the last four years thinking about it; pushing the dreams where she kisses Faith into the deepest depths of her mind where no one can find them.
Buffy sighs, calling out: “Go away.”
There’s too many other things to deal with to think about them.
A moment later, she leans against the doorway, arms crossed. “No. We gotta talk.”
She looks as cool and collected as she’s ever been; always an air of ease about her. Like nothing matters. She’s said as much in the past. But that’s just what people say, right?
Buffy has experience with pretending to be fine. “I don’t need any pity, I just want to be alone.”
Maybe she’s just here to laugh in her face. It would be easier for both of them if she was.
“Just wanted to… make sure you were okay. I’d say it’s not safe for a girl to be alone in this town at night, but… abandoned or not, we both know you can hold your own,” She says, smirking. “But… all that… it was fucked up, kicking you out of your own house.”
Buffy sits up, running her fingers through the side of her hair that was on the pillow. “Yeah.”
“And… I’m sorry I didn’t do anything about it. Truth is, I was freaked, y’know, I just got back here, you guys barely trust me, and I didn’t wanna make things worse.”
The tension between them is as strong as ever, and what Faith knows is only half of it. It’s been different for Buffy since that night on the rooftop. Faith might not know it, but Buffy trusts her — while she’s not quite ready to put it in writing… she does. She knows she shouldn’t, but it’s hard not to. There’s been an inexplicable draw between them since they first met.
She wonders if Faith feels it too.
“No, no, I get it, it’s… fine.”
“Yeah, I…” She scratches the back of her neck sheepishly, takes a step into the room, and the entire atmosphere changes. “It’s really not, B. Look, I came back here to try and make at least some things right, and that’s like, the opposite of it.”
“You didn’t kick me out.”
“But I said you needed to cool it, and… I mean, I think you were a little hard on ‘em, but I never would’ve said it if I knew they were gonna—”
“But you didn’t.” A beat. “Why did you come here, Faith?”
“I saw the First,” she admits, “and… I knew he wasn’t real, but it still freaked me out.”
“Yeah. It tends to do that.” Buffy wants to ask her what she saw, but she doesn’t — hopes Faith will offer it up on her own, but doesn’t want to push. They know too many dead people, and Buffy doesn’t know her life before Sunnydale. Though, she’s always wanted to.
“It was the Mayor. Like he hadn’t aged a day— I guess he wasn’t really doin’ that before, either, but… y’know what I mean.” She smiles, just a bit. “It was weird. Like he… it knew everything, and knew how it would make me feel. Why’s this shit gotta be all different? I was fine when it was just big baddies to punch, but I’m out of my element here.”
The more human they are… the harder they are to kill. Not just mentally, the act of killing something so similar to yourself, but because of the way they know how humans work, act, think, feel… They can manipulate you. In her dreams, she fears she’s been playing into what the First wants this whole time.
“This isn’t my kind of thing either,” Buffy says, joking (and somewhat serious), “Hey, maybe you’ll be less reckless than me. Show them things’ve really changed.”
Maybe Faith was right. Maybe she is the good Slayer now. Maybe that’s what the Slayer has to be to beat this thing.
Faith scoffs. “B, I don’t wanna be in charge. I can’t, I'm not good. You gotta come back and talk some sense into them.”
“Yeah, in my experience, not wanting stuff doesn’t usually seem to do much to stop it.” And that’s basically everything in her life since she found out she was the Slayer.
Faith glares at her.
“I don’t know what you want me to say. They want you.”
“They don’t know what I am.”
“To them, you’re a Slayer. You’re who they could be someday.” They don’t see her past. Hell, they don’t know it. But she’s cooler than Buffy, and they’re just looking for some sense of normal. And Faith is… somehow, more normal. On the outside. And they like that idea more than the reality of me.
“I can’t… I don’t know the plan. I barely even know what we’re up against here.”
“God, I wish there was a plan.”
“There’s no plan?”
She shrugs, trying not to show her dread at how absolutely fucked they are. “Not past ‘destroy ancient evil’ and ‘get brunch’ — that was Andrew’s idea.”
“That’s it?”
“…I thought the brunch part sounded pretty good,” she offers — it’s easy to say, not full of dread and darkness, and it’s how they’ve always coped.
“Yeah, if we’re not dead.”
Buffy smiles, and nods toward the space next to her. Faith’s presence has always felt natural, especially when she’s close.
Tentatively, Faith crosses the distance between them, and sits down. “Look, we need you. They do, even if they won’t say it, and I know I do.”
Maybe, somewhere, she knows that — that it’s always been her duty, her responsibility, her mission to take care of the people in her life, even the ones she barely knows. She meant what she said to Faith — these girls could be them someday — and she owes it to her younger self to look out for them. But she also knows what she was like at sixteen — what Faith was like at sixteen, and it might be easy to make that argument at twenty-one, but it’s a lot harder to accept it when your entire world’s been thrown into a tailspin, and all you want is an ounce of control. To not follow the rules for once.
Buffy sees worry fall across Faith’s face when she doesn’t respond. She looks into her eyes, and asks, “Are you mad at me? ‘Cause you sound like you’re mad at me.”
Faith’s gaze on her feels way more overwhelming than it should; huge and brown, brows furrowed. They get her flustered, and she stumbles over the accusation when she answers.
“No! I’m not, I… I’m mad at everything.”
“B, come on… it’s like you’re still walking on eggshells around me. What’s it gonna take? I’m here.”
She’s the only one here. Hell, she exists, when she shouldn’t — or maybe, that’s Buffy. “I know. I know, and I can’t thank you enough—”
“Then how come you don’t flinch when Angel’s around? Hell, even Spike seems to get a pass, and don’t give me the soul bullshit.”
Because I’m afraid if you touch me I won’t be able to stop myself. Even admitting that to herself feels terrifying.
“That’s… different.”
“How come?” She chuckles, “Cause you slept with ‘em?”
Buffy blushes bright red at her suggestion, shaking her head in an attempt to get the intrusive thoughts out — the ones that are currently chaining together the words ‘sleeping with Faith’ — “No!”
“So level with me, okay?” Faith asks, entirely serious, all traces of teasing gone from her voice. “What’s different? ‘Cause me and Angel, we’ve done a lot of things we regret. To you in particular. And I would’ve hated to admit it even a year ago, but we’re a lot more alike than I thought. Look, I’ve been trying to do good. I wanna keep doing it, but not alone. I said it before, and it’s still true, we’re the same. I don’t wanna just be the chosen one.”
Faith looks… older. Stronger. It shouldn’t surprise her. Older makes sense, and, well, she had a lot of free time to build up more muscle… In her mind, she was still envisioning her as that scared girl. The one who covered up her insecurity with snark and sultry. Until a second ago. And it’s like seeing her for the first time again, beautiful, and strong, and fiery, and passionate. Wanting — wanting more from what her life was before; wanting someone who understood.
But this time, Buffy gets it.
“Chosen Two,” Buffy says, remembering her words.
She nods.
Buffy takes a breath; lifts the hem of her shirt gently. “It’s different because of this.”
Faith’s hand reaches out, the lightest touch of her fingertips touching the scar. Buffy doesn’t flinch; fights the instinct until it fades.
She doesn’t speak for a few seconds. “B, I don’t… where, uh… where’d you get this?”
“You,” she says, simply. Or— “or, well, me.” She still feels guilty; asks, bluntly, “Do you believe in soulmates?”
She scoffs.
“This showed up the day after…” Buffy trails off, entirely unsure how to phrase it.
Faith shifts uncomfortably. “Gee, no wonder they thought you were losin’ it.”
“Faith…” She can feel her retreating.
“Too soon?” she quips, her body language suddenly stiff.
“I know you know.” It’s a bold claim. Buffy doesn’t, not really. She just has a feeling — the way she hesitated before she asked about the scar, the way she’s withdrawing back into herself now.
The way she’s always been one step ahead of what Faith was willing to give.
“It’s whatever, B. No big deal. Bigger shit to deal with than old fairy tales. Let’s get you back home and figure out—”
Buffy cuts her off. That’s the one thing she isn’t willing to do now. “No. I’m not going back there.”
“Alright. Suit yourself,” she sighs, going to stand up—
She can’t go. Buffy grabs her hand. “Stay. Please.”
Faith shakes her head, offering a hard gaze back at her. “It doesn’t mean what you think it means.”
“Why not?” Buffy challenges, pouting. But she doesn’t even know what she’s asking for, what she wants Faith to stay for.
“I don’t do shit like that,” Faith says, blunt.
And maybe that’s true. Buffy’s never done anything like this (whatever it is) either, and still… there’s some part of her that’s drawn to Faith; needs her here. It wasn’t like this when she was gone — far away where Buffy didn’t have to (but did) think about her. Now that she’s close, it’s like everything’s a million times bigger, more connected.
“So you’re saying… what exactly?” Because she thought she knew what Faith wanted — her. That’s what she’s always wanted, right? Why she did everything she did, why she came back?
She pulls her hand away, standing up and wiping her palms on her thighs. “Yeah, we’re connected. But not like that.”
“So, how is it?”
“The whole Slayer thing. No one else like us?”
“I… Giles told me that, when…” When I came to him crying with a scar that wasn’t mine, thinking I killed you. “And I thought he was right. I mean, he’s Giles. Always full of knowledge with the supernatural stuff, but…”
But that was the easy way to think about it. And nothing between them has ever been easy.
“Yeah, he told me too. I mean… when I was you, so… indirectly.” She sighs. “But I did my research.”
So she does know. “And?”
“And that’s it. Pretty obvious what it ain’t, what with how much you hate me. Maybe that’s what we’re destined for.”
Buffy reaches for her hand a second time; pulls back halfway there. “I never hated you.”
Faith doesn’t say anything.
“I felt like I failed you.”
Maybe she should hate her. It seems like the logical thing to do, with everything they’ve done to each other. But she can’t — she’s never been able to, really. Tried, but saying it doesn’t make it true.
“You’re not responsible for me,” Faith says, blunt, putting more space between them.
“No.” Buffy stands, taking the distance back. “No, I shouldn't've been. But I was. And you were young, and hurt, and scared, and so was I, and there’s not a day where I don’t think about all the better ways things could’ve turned out.”
Faith shakes her head. “I needed it.”
“What you needed was a mentor.”
“And I got one. Eventually.” She purses her lips. “Look, me and authority… I wouldn’t’ve listened. Hell, G tried to be that for me, and I didn’t.”
Buffy lets her speak, because she’s afraid that anything she says will ruin… something. What is this, this thing they have? She’s never been able to define it or explain it.
“I read that stupid soulmate page over and over. Probably three times before I got the courage to look down. It felt like… a punishment. And here I thought I wanted to hurt you, but… not like that.”
It felt like a punishment to Buffy. That she’d have to bear this scar for the rest of her life, reminding her of Faith and what she did. She’d always thought it would feel like a relief for Faith — getting the last word in, making her remember. But she looks like she could cry now, and it’s a foreign expression on her face.
“I never wanted to hurt you.”
“I made you.” Faith’s guilt seeps through the bond. That connection’s always been there, if she listened hard enough. Faith… didn’t mean to hurt her either.
“I— can we… can we talk about something else?”
She shakes her head. “B… there’s some shit I gotta say.”
Maybe it’s been long enough. Maybe she can let her say it now.
“I’m sorry. And I know it doesn’t mean much, but I am. None of it was meant to hurt you. I just… I wanted it to be over. I didn’t… want any of it anymore. When you came to L.A… I went there because I knew the only person that would be able to stop it was Angel.”
It feels like Faith’s crawled into her skin again, because she knows exactly what that feeling means, exactly what she’s saying. She wanted to die, and Buffy didn’t even let her — let Angel — explain. What could she even have said? She wouldn’t have understood, not yet, anyways, but now that she’s crawled out of the dirt with her bare hands, she does, too well.
“I know the feeling.”
“…Buffy.”
But Buffy doesn’t want to talk about that. “But you’re here now.”
She wants to know why.
“Of course I am.”
So she asks. “Why?”
“I told you, Willow said—”
“No,” she says, gentle as ever. Not why you’re in Sunnydale. Why you’re here, now. “Tell me the real reason.”
She takes a second to collect herself; steady her breathing before she responds. “You’ve clearly got somethin’ to say, so just say it, B.”
Maybe she can say it — the thing that’s been there, just past the surface, since they were young, when Faith was sixteen, baby-faced and pouty.
“Faith,” she says, biting her lip, and daring to step closer. “Tell me you haven’t always wanted to kiss me.”
“I… what?”
Buffy knows she’s caught her off guard, and to be honest, she hasn’t quite decided why she’s asking now. But she needs to know.
“I am so tired of people not just being honest with me. So just tell me.”
She knows her voice sounds desperate, and she’s half-expecting payback for that punch she pulled yesterday. But Faith just sounds exhausted as she stares her down, mumbles; “…Yeah.”
“Okay.”
“…‘Okay’?”
“I’m… I didn’t think I’d get this far.” Faith scrunches her brows. “I kinda thought you’d start a fight before you… admitted that.”
“You, uh, made a compelling case. Hard to say no.” Her signature snark sneaks back in, smirking as her eyes glance down.
“Oh,” is all Buffy can say as she watches Faith check her out. And it’s not the first time, but it’s the first time it’s put a… feeling in her gut.
“Are you saying… you wanna kiss me?” She hears innocence, hesitation in Faith’s voice, like they’re kids again.
Buffy’s been thinking about it since high school. Never wanting, just… imagining. “I think so,” she admits.
But her thoughts are clouded: with worry that she’ll ruin the semblance of an alliance they’ve built up these past few weeks; worry that if she kisses her, she might not like it; worry that she will.
She shakes her head. “You gotta be sure, B.”
Buffy’s hand traces the curve of her waist with the lightest touch, settling at the top of her hip. “I’m not, but…”
Faith can’t say no to her; runs a thumb along the edge of her jaw, tilts her chin up to meet her eyes. She has those chunky combat boots on that give her another inch over Buffy. “Your move.”
Buffy can feel her nervousness through the bond. It’s comforting — because Buffy’s terrified. She needs a second to breathe, to think. But Faith’s gaze is locked directly at her, unflinching. She really does want to kiss her — that’s a terrifying idea.
And Faith wants to kiss her. She feels that too, so desperately.
So Faith must know, must feel it too. But she doesn’t move. She waits; drops her hand to Buffy’s shoulder, but keeps looking in her eyes.
She shouldn’t want to kiss her. For plenty of reasons; none of them too convincing. She would’ve back in high school, if Faith had made the first move, despite what she’s said before. Something about her… so strong but so vulnerable… made Buffy want to figure out every part of her. If Faith had done something about it… maybe that would’ve included the part of her that was falling for Buffy.
Even now, she wants to pull her apart and figure out everything unspoken between them.
She starts with a tentative lean in, panic in her gut as she feels Faith’s surprised exhale on her lips.
They catch their breath.
Then Buffy kisses her — soft, feather-light, easy. Hands crawl across her back and pull her closer, legs interlocking, deepening the kiss.
Faith’s lips are soft. Softer than she expected. It feels wrong to imagine her any other way now, because how could she be anything else? Her face isn’t rough with stubble against hers, and the arms around her are strong and muscular, but not sharp, and it feels good.
Overwhelmingly so, so she pulls back, unsure.
“B, I—”
Faith doesn’t get another word out before Buffy realizes how much she misses the feeling and kisses her again. A hand finds the back of her neck, and Faith takes control, threading her fingers through her hair and tugging her ponytail free.
Buffy realizes that Faith’s wanted this for a long time. Not just to kiss her, but to be close to someone. She feels it in her desperate grip; the way she gasps when Buffy tangles her own hand in her curls.
And Buffy’s tired of being alone.
Faith’s hands grab her waist, sudden and sharp, pressing their bodies together, hands trailing down the small of her back and down to the roundness of her thighs. Rough hands grab at her flesh, like Faith is trying to pull her apart.
Maybe she wants her to. She spent so long just wanting to feel, and this woman — woman, she’s still processing that fact — the way she holds onto her, the desire behind it, feels better than anything.
She wants Faith. Wants her in the bodily sense, yes (and that’s another part to unpack), but more importantly, wants the connection between them she’s been trying to ignore and repress for years, the one she’s finally starting to let herself feel.
She wants to know what it’ll feel like when Faith comes.
Buffy lets out a quiet, held back moan against her lips (and tries not to, she swears). It’s like every thought she’s spent years repressing about Faith, all at once.
Faith shivers, asks, “God, what did you just think about?”
“I—” her face flushes, hot and red, “Nothing.”
“Whatever it was, it was fucking hot.”
“You… you can feel that?”
An arm wraps around her back, tracing circles. “I’ve felt it for the last three years. Left me running on fumes for hours tryin’ not to touch myself until lights out every time you got some.”
“Oh.” Her face is beet red, and Faith’s completely flipped this around on her, her confidence back in something she knows all too well — antagonizing her with flirting. She can feel Faith’s touch, so strong through her paper thin shirt.
“But if you just thinkin’ about it now…” she grins, and closes her eyes, and Buffy feels warmth pool low in her gut.
The bond’s lit up between them now, stronger than it’s ever been. She’s desperately trying to not think about Faith. Still — “What did you…?”
Faith looks her in the eyes; “Wondering what you taste like.”
Buffy’s silent. She’s fully aware of Faith pressed against her, feeling the rise and fall of her chest every time she breathes. She’s more than aware of Faith’s thigh between hers.
“I can feel you wanna kiss me, B, but what else do you wanna do?”
“I don’t know.” She really doesn’t. Not what she’s supposed to do, let alone what she wants. She doesn’t want Faith to move, so she holds on to her tighter.
“Are you scared?”
“Yeah.” Not of danger; not that Faith might hurt her. She hasn’t been this nervous since she was seventeen, and terrified she’d do something wrong.
“Tell me what feels good.”
“Your hands,” she manages to answer — Faith’s nails trace a line under her shirt and up her spine; fingers firm into her skin, nails trimmed to the quick.
“What else?”
Her eyes dart down, heaving breaths reigniting the contact between them; feels the heat of Faith’s gaze at her black bra, which she knew was on display, but feels so much more so when it’s her. And Faith’s shirt is tight, and so… low cut… and she can’t help but look — because entirely objectively, it’s hot.
She doesn’t look up. “Us. Like this.”
Faith pushes her hair behind her ear. “Yeah?”
Buffy nods, and meets her gaze, just as Faith shifts with a grin, her thigh pressing between her legs. She tries to follow, but Faith stops her with a hand on her chest, fingers resting at the base of her throat.
“You’re so pent up, B. Tell me what you want.”
It’s true, she is. It’s been months. She pulls at the loose black fabric around Faith’s stomach. “Off.”
“Done,” she says, moving her hands out of the way to pull the shirt over her head, quickly meeting her with another searing kiss, teeth gently pulling at Buffy’s bottom lip.
Faith’s hands inch her shirt up, hard pressure on her stomach, and she can’t take it. Her sleeves are long, and constricting, and the thin fabric does nothing to block the feeling of the heat of Faith’s body brushing up against her. She helps her pull it off, gasping as Faith’s hand brushes past her breast.
Buffy’s grasp settles on her belt, running her fingers along the metal ridges just below the small of her back, focusing on the tactile sensation and not the kisses Faith has started to trail down her neck. Her hands run along the studs, around her hips, thumbs stumbling with the buckle. Her hands are shaking. She wants this, she knows Faith wants this.
Faith cups her cheeks, eyes flitting down at her hands.
It’s been years since she’s been with someone she felt this closely connected to. Angel feels like a lifetime ago. And she cares about Spike — for everything that he’s done for her, for her family. Maybe she even loves him. She’s just not in love with him, not right now. Maybe she could be, some day — he has a soul, and a love for her she can’t quite wrap her head around.
But right now, Faith Lehane is looking at her with concern and adoration, heart pounding in her chest. And the now-ness of it all — that wins out.
Buffy wraps her hands underneath Faith’s thighs, pulling her up just long enough that she can turn them around, and drop her onto the bed, climbing up to straddle her hips. She’s the one on top, but it feels like she’s had the wind knocked out of her.
Faith’s stunned, flushed face below her turns her on more than she ever thought possible. If the way she bites her lip as she looks up at Buffy is any indication, it’s doing the same for her. She pauses, breathing slow and steady, hair splayed across her chest and the sheets; takes Buffy’s hand and pulls her down to kiss her again with a smile.
It hits Buffy that the last time she saw Faith smile like this was when she showed up at her house for Christmas. Was she really that blind, or did she just not want to see it? Some part of her had to know, because they’re here, and Faith’s always looked at her like she trusts her with her life, no matter what she decides to do with it.
Faith rolls them to the side, and pulls away, hand lingering on Buffy’s shoulder. “You want this?”
Buffy just nods.
“God, I—” she laughs, voice breaking, like she doesn’t believe her. “I don’t even know what to say.”
She can’t look her in the eyes, not when Faith’s touch is so tender. So she reaches out, brushing her fingers across the scar on Faith’s stomach as it catches her eye, equally delicately. “I’ve seen this every day wondering what it looks like on you.”
It looks exactly like hers, it’s almost eerie.
“You didn’t…?”
“I couldn’t.” It was already too much being reminded of it on her own body. Still, there was this morbid curiosity. “It really is the same.”
Now, it just feels like they’re the same. Just like she always said. And Faith isn’t bitter at her for it anymore (she’s not sure if she ever was).
“I had a thing for you that first night in the Bronze,” Faith breathes, a weight lifted for both of them.
“I know.” Buffy pulls at her hips by her belt buckle, hands finally confident enough to pull it open. Faith is cautious, still kissing her gently, holding back.
Buffy knows what it’s like to hold back. How it’s this pent up fire inside her gut. She pulls the belt from Faith’s jeans — wants to touch her like no one else can — fumbles with the clasp of her bra and wrenches it from her body. She can’t bring her eyes to look, but her hands are far braver, finding the swell of her breast; feeling the goosebumps prickling her skin under her touch. She kisses the edge of her jaw, the pulse point of her neck; drags her teeth across the soft skin.
“Fuck,” Faith whispers, a rasp in her voice.
A hand palms Buffy’s breast, and despite the layers of fabric, she finds her body jumping at the contact. Her hands are small; fingertips digging into the flesh just above her bra. She senses Faith’s hesitation, but she doesn’t want to lose her touch, covering the hand on her chest with her own, keeping her there.
She murmurs into Faith’s neck, “You’re in your head again. I want you.”
Her words must light up something within Faith, because she brings Buffy’s lips to hers again, digging her nails into her cleavage.
“B, take it off,” she manages, between kisses.
She does, and she doesn’t even feel shy about it — especially not when Faith’s immediate response is to bring her hands to one breast, and her lips to another. Buffy threads her fingers through her hair, unsure what else to do with her hands. Even with the lingering questions of ‘oh god am I doing this right’, she silently wishes she figured… whatever this is… out sooner. (And makes a horribly cursed mental note to ask Willow if she’s always been having foreplay this good).
Her open-mouthed ministrations trail up to her neck, fingers on her collarbone, pulling the skin between her lips, intent on leaving a bruise. It’s the right side of her neck — Faith’s lips just barely overlap two jagged puncture marks.. The scar tugs, but the pain fades into the background with the rest of Faith’s attention. Buffy almost wishes the mark would last longer, but it’ll be gone by morning.
Buffy pulls Faith closer, intertwining their legs; she feels Faith’s chest press up against hers, feels the girl shift in her arms as hard peaks brush together. Faith’s toeing a careful line between her own arousal and taking Buffy through this slow. She’s never wanted slow — they’ve never been slow.
Faith rocks into her thigh, grip on her shoulder tightening. Buffy undoes the button of her jeans, reaching for the zipper, but Faith’s hands stop her, pinning her on her back with her arms above her head. “Let me,” she says, panting above her, hair falling down into Buffy’s face. “Please.”
It feels like fighting, and Buffy doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to look at her the same way again, especially not in training.
She nods, meek and silent, watching intently as Faith’s demeanor shifts, trailing a teasing touch down her stomach. “What can I do?”
“Anything,” Buffy answers.
Without missing a beat, she unzips her boots and kicks them to the floor. “Anything, anything?”
“Yeah.”
With the wide opportunity Buffy’s given her… Faith kisses the scar on her stomach. It’s more intimate than any other touch they’ve shared tonight. She doesn’t even give Buffy time to process it: Thumbs play with the button on her striped jeans, and she feels heat settle between her thighs with no immediate explanation.
Faith looks up at her with a soft grin, explains, “I kinda wanna find out, B.”
She remembers Faith’s words, and guides her hands to the zipper, undoing the button herself. “Then get these off.”
Buffy manages to get out of them without too much hassle, breathing rapidly underneath her.
“You’re so fucking hot,” Faith says.
She blushes.
“Do you know how many times I’ve gotten myself off wishing it was you?”
Buffy wants it to be her this time. She wants to touch her even if she’s not quite sure how. She looks so beautiful like this — already knows she looks even better beneath her — wants to see her all strung out in bliss.
But Faith wants her first, she can feel that. And she wants that too. She’s so tense; heat low in her body frustrating to no end — feels it in Faith too, stronger, and wonders how she could want like this, ahead of her own needs. She’s crawling her way down Buffy’s body, kisses on her collarbones, her sternum, her navel.
Thumbs hook under the cotton at her hipbones, hot breaths on her belly as Faith leans in and propositions, “I’ll make you beg, if you can take it.”
She squirms, hips lifting off the bed until she presses up against Faith. “No, please.”
“Close enough.” Faith looks… unbelievably hot, looking up at her with the sweetest and most devilish grin. She pulls the fabric past her knees, leaving Buffy to kick them off.
She looks like she wants to devour her.
“Maybe I do.” Her voice is low and husky, and Buffy can’t even bring herself to be embarrassed that she spoke out loud.
Lips graze the top of her leg, delicate fingertips tracing the curve of her hips. Fingers pull at the inside of her thigh, replaced by soft lips, sucking bruises into thin skin.
If there’s any doubt left in Buffy’s mind, it disappears then. It feels weird, the idea of a woman’s face between her thighs; but it’s never felt like this. She’s been here, before, with men, but now she can feel how turned on Faith is, and it just fuels her even more. Buffy tugs at her hair, not entirely gently, and the laugh that escapes Faith’s lips vibrates through her body.
“Should’ve figured you like it like that,” she says, shifting her attention to her other thigh.
“You do too.”
“No point in hiding it, huh?”
She’s so slow, and so close; winding her up, so calculated and deliberately. Buffy pulls her hair again, insistent. “Please shut up.”
Faith exhales, and pulls her legs apart, one finger a tentative, ghost touch up the seam where her thigh meets her torso.
“Faith,” she says, strained, hips bucking up as Faith lays a hand on her hip bone, pressing her into the mattress.
She’s not quite sure what else she was going to say to her — it all goes out the window when two gentle fingers slide between her lips and feel how absolutely wet she is.
“I can’t believe I did this to you.”
Half of Buffy wants to pull her closer, and the other half wants to find out how long Faith’s willing to let this go on. “I need…”
“You want me inside you, B?”
Buffy’s voice comes out all breathy and high; “Yeah.”
She teases her, silent, fingers dragging their way back down, a lighter touch than before. Buffy watches the smile on Faith’s face as she tries to press harder into her touch. She circles, lips kissing her thighs again; finally, gently presses two fingertips inside her as she pulls Buffy’s thigh between her teeth.
“Faith—”
“I know, Buffy,” she says, breaths slow and heavy, pulling her hand back the most minuscule distance. “I know you want more, ‘cause I feel it in my body.”
Her fingers dip deeper, so slow, and Buffy asks, “Bite me for real?”
Faith doesn’t say a word, but the next stroke of her fingers is accompanied by a sting between Buffy’s thighs. She bites down hard, and god, it’s not about the pain — because Faith can’t hurt her like that — because it feels so good. Buffy always thought it was the danger, or maybe something inherent about a vampire’s bite that made it so pleasurable; but it feels even better now. Faith doesn’t ask questions; doesn’t tease her, just sinks deeper, but Buffy still needs more.
And Faith has to know that — not just from the connection between them — because Buffy’s pulling her, by long dark locks, away from her thighs. She takes the hint.
She pauses, her hand going still, and Buffy can feel her breath, heavy and warm. Before she can speak again — humiliate herself some more and beg — Faith’s tongue is touching her, sweeping up, just shy of where Buffy actually wants her.
She swears under her breath.
Faith’s lips brush her clit, her fingers hooking inside her. She’s soft, and gentle, and all the things Buffy didn't think she could be. “Fuck— Faith, I’m not gonna break.”
“Wanna take care of you,” she mumbles.
She wants Faith to fuck her, but she just whispers back, “Okay.”
Faith pushes deeper, tongue circling and finding a million new ways to drive Buffy to her breaking point. She teases, and kisses, and Buffy can’t take it, but she also doesn’t want her to stop. She wants to know if Faith was always like this in bed, or if she’s taking things so delicately because of their history. If there’s another side to her, she wants to meet that Faith. She wants to touch her like this, make her squirm and beg until she can’t remember her own name. It was almost inevitable; they’ve always been hurtling toward this moment, and Buffy wonders how different things would be if Faith had been confident enough to kiss her before… before everything. She would’ve stolen kisses in the library; danced even closer on the floor of the Bronze; snuck out with her and pinned her to a tombstone. She would’ve stood up for her more.
Her lips capture Buffy’s clit, and Buffy’s fists tighten in her hair, and they both moan. Buffy can’t even find the words to tease her about it — just files it away in the tiny part of her brain not thinking about Faith’s ministrations. No one’s ever gotten her this close this fast — it’s almost embarrassing.
She comes quietly, only letting out a surprised hum when Faith climbs back up her body and kisses her after licking her fingers clean; it feels dirty.
Faith’s as sultry as ever, oozing confidence Buffy didn’t think was possible. Her eyes are full of fire, energy radiating from her stare, soft, but also looking like she wants to go ten more times. Like she worships her. “God, seeing you like this…”
Buffy’s breathing heavily; “I don’t know if I can handle you.”
“No?” she murmurs, caressing the curve of her bare hip.
She shakes her head.
“Me either,” she admits.
Buffy pulls her closer by her belt loops, unzipping her jeans and tugging at the waist. She wants to feel her close.
She knows this body. How it feels, how it moves. And she knows what to expect from a woman’s body… conceptually, but right now, the idea of one beside her own feels so foreign.
They’re both so different now. And still, the same: Faith is the tiniest bit paler, but so is she; less days and more nights. Older; Buffy’s face less round, sharper, and hers softer, eyes wider. Yet Faith’s face still feels as familiar to her as it was back in high school, and she wants to learn the rest of her.
She wrestles with her jeans, skin-tight, pulling them over her hips, learning her curves as she goes. Faith rolls to the side to finish kicking them off, and Buffy’s surprised at how much she misses her presence. When she’s done, she pulls Buffy on top of her, closer than they were before, skin against skin.
Not fully what she expected, her face flushes bright red, and Faith laughs.
God, she’s so fucking frustrating, Buffy thinks, and shuts her up with a kiss. Her lips taste like sex, like her, and it doesn’t feel wrong anymore. There’s no space between them, and Faith’s skin on hers feels like fire. Faith’s hands are wrapped around her back, digging into her, desperately holding on to her.
And Buffy knows what she feels; how desperate she is to keep her there. “Not going anywhere,” she says, lips still brushing hers.
She really wants to touch her now — enough that it pushes past the fear into the forefront of her mind — even if the specifics are still a little hazy. Shifting some weight off her, she kneels beside her without breaking their kiss. Faith's hands follow her, pulling and grabbing, almost frantic; she wants this so badly.
It would be rude not to give it to her, all things considered.
Her hand trails down Faith’s chest, splaying her fingers across her sternum — feeling the heavy rise and fall of her breath, and the stiffness of her muscles, harder than her own. She kisses her neck, reveling in how smooth her skin is, versus how Faith’s fingernails feel as they scrape her back.
Buffy reaches her hip, palm pressing into the bone, and one of Faith’s hands joins her, urging her thumbs under the last piece of fabric on her body. Why does it feel so daunting? Faith’s seen her naked now; touched every inch of her body, left bruises down her thighs that have already started to fade. It should be easy to do the same, and she wants to.
It’s a fight she never expected, purely in her mind, a subject both familiar and unfamiliar. The last time she felt this nervous about sleeping with someone was after Angel. Despite the impossibility, there was that nagging worry it would happen again. It kind of did.
And she knows Faith won’t leave — won’t treat her like a body to be claimed for a night — because she… she’s always felt this way about her. Always wanted Buffy in her bed, even more so, in her arms. Even if she talked a big game, it was different with her. For everything. Buffy knows that now, with the desperate way she kisses her.
So maybe it’s right that they’re connected… however they are. She still isn’t sure if she 100% believes in the whole soulmates deal. What she does know, though, is it’s not just the Slayer line that ties them together.
Faith’s hands are on her neck, her body arcing up into her touch, and Buffy feels her desire as if it’s her own. It’s not — it’s hers, distinctly different — a flush of heat through her whole body. Somehow, she knows, feels exactly how Faith wants to be touched.
She tentatively tugs at the waistband of her underwear, but Faith doesn’t help. She just pulls Buffy from her neck, and tilts her chin up; makes her look at her as she takes them off, nodding her encouragement.
Buffy stares into big brown eyes, watches her focus drop to her lips before darting back up. She’s never seen her this quiet, always full of some sort of snark or innuendo. It’s sweet, and she realizes… that’s what Faith wants this to be. Even if she won’t say it, she wants it to be romantic; soft and slow, no matter how frantic her hands get. And she can work with that. She can give her that.
Her hand slips between Faith’s thighs, pressed together and looking for even the tiniest bit of friction from her own body. She’s been waiting this whole time — patiently, almost.
Buffy can’t look her in the eyes if she’s going to… well, she’s definitely doing this, so she pulls her back into a kiss; bodies closer together — she’s amazed at how well they fit, all soft curves. She’s all pressed up to Faith’s side, knee wedged between her thighs; and her skin is so warm, and her lips are so soft, her kisses so incessant. Faith’s hands are on her face and her back, and they’ve been inside her, and Buffy… she needs to feel it all, for herself.
She starts tentative; Faith’s hips buck into her hand, and she bites Buffy’s lip. The only thing that keeps her on track is the knowledge of how insanely strung up the girl in her arms is. Her breath hitches, gripping Buffy’s shoulder as her fingertips barely touch her.
With even the lightest touch, she still feels how wet she is. It’s exciting, knowing it’s her that’s turned her on this much. She gets braver, dragging a finger through folds of flesh, carefully, slowly. Faith’s response is to kiss her deeper, to let out the softest moan against her lips.
“B,” she says, breathing heavily, “I can’t take much more.”
Having Faith — anyone — this desperate makes her stomach do flips. Especially when, if she focuses, she can feel it for herself.
“Sorry,” she says, feeling the blush creep up her face. She’s trying to rack up the courage not to just tease her for eternity. She circles, far from where Faith wants her, trying to give her something more.
Faith bites her lip, nodding almost imperceptibly. “Please.”
God, it makes her want to melt, and that’s enough. She presses inside her, and it feels so much better than the times she’s touched herself. She can feel every part of Faith’s reaction — the way her muscles tense, how her fingers dig into Buffy’s arm, and her forehead, damp with sweat, rests on her shoulder. Faith doesn’t want her to slow down. And Buffy, well… she likes touching her like this — likes hearing her sharp breaths at every new touch, and feeling her response — likes this woman she’s with. So she doesn’t. She sinks further, until the heel of her palm is pressing into hot skin, and Faith’s immediate response is to say:
“More.”
She’s not asking, and besides, Buffy isn’t interested in saying no. She gives her another finger, and sets a slow pace. Faith’s labored pants are heavy against her, hot and… well hot, as in massively attractive. Her face lights up in a pleasured smile, and it almost sounds like she laughs as Buffy moves faster. She kisses her neck, intent on leaving a mark for at least the night, and Faith encourages her with the softest yes in her ear.
It might be mean, but in her hesitation, she’s noticed how sexy it is to tease her — the power trip; how much it turns Faith on even more to be wanting with no control. Faith’s silently asking for more, but Buffy stills, curling her fingertips, and waits until she actually asks.
Faith speaks up almost immediately, her voice raspy, “Buffy, don’t stop.”
“Ask nice.”
“Please?”
“Good girl,” she whispers, without a second thought, not even sure where the words came from — but Faith seems to like it, because her whole body reacts, shuddering. It’s like lightning through Buffy.
She pulls Buffy’s lips away from her neck and to her own, hips arching further into her touch. Buffy lifts her thumb to attempt to give her more; all awkward angles and fumbling, and it’s not easy. Faith brings her own hand between them, pushes Buffy away frantically.
Weirdly, she feels almost… jealous, because she wants to be the one that makes her come… but she’s also the one with her fingers inside Faith, so she guesses that counts. Her own mind is getting a little hazy, because the closer she brings Faith to the edge, the more she can feel in her own body; waves of pleasure with no source. So she lets her.
When Faith tips over the edge — god, she was right to wonder — it’s like Buffy’s falling with her, completely separate from her own body. Faith’s pleasure feels like a part of her, but she doesn’t feel it in her body. It’s what she imagines a phantom limb might feel like, but good.
Sweat beads on Faith’s forehead. She taps Buffy’s wrist.
Cool air hits her fingers, and she’s so curious about what Faith tastes like, but her body feels frozen.
“B,” Faith whispers, kissing her softly, inbetween deep breaths, “You’re… god, I…”
Her lips follow along lazily, letting Faith lead. She feels so alive — full of fire, like she was before. There was a time where all Buffy saw in her eyes was emptiness. When she pulls away, she sees trust.
“That was…”
“Fucking incredible?”
She nods.
Faith smirks, leaning up on her elbow, takes a gentle hold on Buffy’s wrist and lifts her hand off her thigh.
“You’re such a priss.”
“Not exactly the expert here.”
She rolls her eyes, and all Buffy can do is watch as she takes her fingers into her mouth.
Like it’s nothing; “You’re missing out.”
Buffy blushes.
“Sorry,” she chuckles, a low rumble that Buffy feels in places she shouldn’t, “Fucking cute when you’re all Saint Buffy.”
She’s never seen Faith this happy. She looks at Buffy with this light in her eyes, and holds on to her so tight. It’s hard to imagine why Faith wants her like this after everything they’ve been through.
“You feel it all too? Everything you did to me?”
“Yeah,” Buffy admits.
Faith’s smile falters, and she brushes a piece of hair out of Buffy’s face. “Felt it when you got hurt too. You die a third time?”
“Technically,” she admits.
Her fingers run across the scar on her chest. “Gotta stop doin’ that.”
“I didn’t…” She didn’t notice — didn’t even look. “You too?”
Faith doesn’t answer, just guides her hand to her chest; a mirror image.
She’s in bed with Faith, in a stranger’s bed, and it should feel weird, wrong — but it just feels comforting. They share scars, and pain; powers, and a destiny.
“Hurt like hell,” she says, and Buffy realizes she’s looking at her for confirmation.
She nods. It did.
“I mean it. You matter, B. No matter what they say or do, they care about you. Don’t make with the recklessness.”
There was a time when Buffy thought she might be okay with, or even want to die. It’s been a while — and she doesn’t want to die.
“Goes for you too.”
Faith nods; an acknowledgment.
Buffy knows she thinks everyone hates her. It’s so much more complicated than that. And the only thing that matters is that Buffy wants her to stay — not just because of the connection they have, but because she cares about her. She likes Faith, she always has, because she’s strong, and bold, and she’s got this wit that Buffy was always jealous of. But she isn’t unafraid. She doesn’t ever want to show it, but that’s the thing — even if she doesn’t know why or how, Buffy always has some sort of sense of how she’s feeling.
And she was just a scared teenager. They both were. Now, here they are, years later and still just as scared. There’s something comforting about that, which Buffy thinks might be just a little fucked up, but it doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s the Slayer connection; maybe they’re soulmates. It’s not like she’ll ever be able to tell the difference. The entire world could end in a few days and all she wants is this moment — now, laying in her arms, feeling wanted and understood.
But it can’t last forever. They have responsibilities, and people counting on them — the fate of thousands of girls on the line.
She catches a glimpse of Faith’s chest out of the corner of her eye. “We should… clothes.”
Faith pulls away without a word, sitting up and stretching her arms and shoulders out.
Buffy looks away before her thoughts have a chance to go anywhere else. She leans over the side of the bed; finds her shirt on the floor, and her underwear behind the pillows. Haphazardly, she dresses herself while Faith’s back is turned — she takes the long way around the bed — and pulls her legs up to her chest when she’s done, trying to hide the transparency of her shirt and her lack of bra.
Faith’s hips sway as she wanders over to collect her things from the floor. Buffy’s eyes don’t stray, purely fixated on her figure as she pulls on her underwear. Faith turns around, sees her watching, and smirks, but Buffy doesn’t look away because she’s not ashamed of admiring her. In fact, she’s kind of transfixed by her body. Not that she hasn’t carefully analyzed her own in the mirror — she’s just never looked at a woman like this with such… intrigue. When she looks close, she notices Faith has abs, but they’re soft and rounded into her stomach, contoured but not chiseled.
Faith dresses herself casually, not making a show of it, but deliberately meeting Buffy’s gaze — bra, then shirt, all black fabric. She doesn’t make a snarky comment about Buffy’s blatant ogling.
Instead, she walks back over, and with a hand on Buffy’s knee, gently spins her to sit on the edge of the bed.
“Will you come back with me?” she asks, taking Buffy’s hand, her jeans draped over her other arm — ready to pull her to her feet.
Faith’s looking in her eyes, not at her body, and Buffy knows she’s sincere — but this kind of vulnerability makes her feel more naked.
“I… I don’t know.”
“They put me in charge. Kinda can’t argue with what I decide to do with that,” she chuckles, before her smile disappears. “And I don’t want you alone here. City’s not fucking safe. And we’re safer with you there.”
She purses her lips. They don’t want her there. Her friends don’t want her there. Her sister doesn’t even want her there. But Faith does, beyond all reason.
What’s stopping them from putting someone else in charge if they don’t like her choices? She'd rather have Faith in charge than… Andrew.
But they are her friends. Hell, they’re her family at this point. She can’t just leave them. So maybe tomorrow.
“I’ll think about it,” she offers, hoping it’s enough.
“Yeah,” she nods, dropping her hand. “Sleep on it. ’S all I’m asking.”
“Um, your… socks are over there.” Buffy points to the corner, where one’s managed to land on the lampshade, the other in the middle of the floor.
Faith laughs, “Damn.”
“So… we should probably…”
Talk about… everything.
Something almost tangible’s changed between them now.
It only hits her then: God, I slept with Faith. And I’m kind of okay with that.
“Probably, but… look, if we die by next Tuesday, we never have to talk about it, so… table it ’til then?” Faith jokes, smiling softly.
She can’t be alone now. Not after this.
For whatever reason — fate, or luck, or the meddling of the Powers-That-Be — there’s something connecting them, something deep and strong and tied into their very being. Maybe it’s the Slayer. But maybe it’s not. Maybe it was inevitable they’d fall into bed together eventually, no matter how far down the line.
Buffy shakes her head. “Save the talk for then, but don’t leave me.”
I just need tonight.
Faith nods; lays the rest of her things on the floor, and her bra joins them as she reaches into her shirt to pull it off. She does it without words — without question of what Buffy wants from her — pulls a folded-up blanket from the foot of the bed, climbs across and drapes it over Buffy’s shoulders.
“Hey,” Faith says, sitting cross-legged behind her, leaning her chin on Buffy’s shoulder. “We got this. Chosen Two, right? So let’s just pretend everything’s fine for tonight. Let’s pretend this is normal, and not as fucked up as it is.”
Reaching back, she touches Faith’s knee. “Okay.”
With Faith behind her, she can imagine a younger girl, and her younger self. Eyes closed, she can picture her bedroom and the few times Faith ended up in her bed. Innocent, by all measures. She distinctly remembers one:
Buffy had basically forced them all into a Scooby movie night, with her executive decision to rent 10 Things I Hate About You. Faith made it clear that she hated rom-coms, and thought they were the lowest, most soulless form of entertainment.
After, when Buffy, Willow, and Cordelia were a crying wreck (and she swears she saw a tear or two out of Oz), Faith, unaffected, promised Buffy that one day, she’d show her a ‘real’ movie. Everyone except Buffy and Faith crashed on the couch or floor somewhere during the first 30 minutes of whatever movie they put on next. It was well past two, and even so, Buffy had to convince her to stay (the final selling point being her mom’s mean pancake breakfast). She remembers blushing when Faith slipped under the sheets of her bed in just her underwear and one of Buffy’s t-shirts.
It was the most normal they’d ever been together. Regular teenage girl stuff, for completely normal teenage girls. A week later it all fell apart.
There was at least one more — that time they fell asleep after patching each other up, wounds gone by morning. Maybe there was a third. Buffy can’t remember — but she can imagine it. And if that Faith kissed her shoulder, maybe it could still feel as good and right as it does now. If only she had let herself feel that way.
Faith shifts, and Buffy realizes that she’s laying down.
Made the bed, might as well lie in it.
She turns toward Faith, pulling her legs up onto the bed. Lays down, and drapes the blanket over both of them.
They’re not close, but not far; arms length. Faith takes her hands and pulls her in. “Warm enough?”
There’s no heat in the house. It’s May in California, and somehow, Faith’s radiating warmth. “All good.”
She chuckles. “That was flirting, by the way. You’re always frickin’ cold.”
“Am not!”
“C’mon, who wears a jacket for 60 and sunny?”
“Most of Southern California?”
It’s so good to talk to her like this again. Everything just seems to fall into place. It’s like nothing’s changed since that night they first met, even though they’re entirely different people now. Seeing Faith laugh and smile again, and really mean it… it’s like seeing her for the first time again.
“God, you wouldn’t last a day up north. 60’s when we break out the shorts. If it weren’t for the workplace hazards…”
It’s another reminder of how quick they’ve grown up.
“Ugh, I hate that we’re all practical now — I wouldn’t go slaying in a skirt if you paid me. And I can’t believe I’m saying that. Is this what being a responsible adult is?”
Faith grins, “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think sex in a stranger’s bed while trying to vanquish an ultimate evil is responsible.”
Her hand runs up and down the curve of her waist, and Buffy doesn’t ever want her to stop.
“Point taken,” Buffy says, ignoring the heat in her face.
“Now, last time we were in the same bed together…” Faith starts, tone turning playful, “You made fun of my underwear.”
Only because I was trying to distract you from my tomato-face. Which I’m kinda trying to do now, too.
She darts back— “And I see nothing’s changed; still boring.”
“Black’s not boring, B, it’s sexy.”
“…You’re hotter without them.”
Why did I say that?
“Didn’t know you could talk like that.”
“I… can’t,” she laughs, unable to keep a straight face. So much for the sexy.
“Fun to watch you try, though.”
And she’s kind of mortified, but it’s also kind of hot, listening to how endearing Faith finds it.
“Brings me way back, y’know. You all awkward and adorable, tryin’ to look tough for me. No way you could’ve known I was putting it on too.”
“You are tough.”
“Not the way I wanted to be.”
Buffy closes her eyes, and tells her a secret: “The night I found out I was the Slayer I cried myself to sleep.”
Faith kisses her, cradling her cheek in her hand. It’s slow, and deep, and stops long before Buffy wants it to.
“Sorry,” she says, hand still on her face.
“I… I didn’t know my emotional trauma got you that hot and bothered.”
“Yeah, you know me, I’m super into the girls with baggage.”
Her words are light and comedic, but her voice is gentle; fingers tucking strands of hair behind her ears.
Buffy sighs. “Y’know… it’s good to just talk, like this.”
Faith nods, letting her hands drop back to the space on the sheets between them. “Almost makes me forget about the whole impending doom.”
“You’re a good… distraction.”
She lets her hand reach out, trailing her fingers down Faith's leg. Her skin dots with goosebumps under her touch, and she can feel the fine baby hairs peppering her thigh.
“Yeah…”
Faith trails off, and Buffy pulls away, worrying she’s said or done something wrong. Everything’s felt so… natural, the way they’ve been talking. She sees a familiar fear in Faith’s eyes, and watches as she plays with her sleeves.
“You don’t have to pretend for my sake. I can handle… I’ve been handling it.”
Faith wants to pull away; hide. She wants to do what she’s always done.
She’s frustrating as all hell.
Buffy treads carefully. “Faith… you know that’s not… I do actually…” Like you. However weird it is to feel. She wishes she could actually put the words together at a time like this, when so much seems to hinge on her being able to spit them out.
Faith sighs silently, and her words are barely spoken; “I can’t give you what you want.”
“You don’t know that.”
Buffy can tell she’s uncomfortable, too vulnerable, face to face like this. But she doesn’t say anything. She just pulls Buffy closer, into the crook of her arm, and wraps her arms around her, over and under.
She doesn’t even know what she wants.
Neither of them has done anything like this before. It feels good. Faith’s endlessly soft; smells like sex, leather, and Buffy’s shampoo. The whole house’s been using her stuff, but it feels more natural on Faith. Like catching the faint scent of a lover on her pillowcase.
“I don’t want this to be it,” Buffy admits, already growing comfortable with the idea of waking up next to her.
If they could just stay in this room, in this bed forever… Because when they leave, everything’s going to change. No matter what either of them say. Even if they don’t speak a word until they find out who lives through this.
Buffy won’t hold her hand in front of the others. Faith probably wouldn’t let her, and Buffy couldn’t even let herself. She wants to, now, before she loses the courage, but it feels too good to be wrapped up in her arms.
“I… I can do tonight,” Faith says, squeezing her shoulder. “But ask me again next Tuesday, yeah?”
She’s not sure if Faith realizes how much that means, coming from her. Telling her that yes, she wants more too, and if they can make it through this fight, she might be able to face that. Buffy can’t even imagine what it’s like for her, to have pined over her for so long, expecting nothing in return — maybe even being too afraid to have someone like her back.
Maybe, by then, Buffy will be ready to do something about it, too. Defeating a great and powerful evil… there’s always been this sense of relief — of a fresh start, of newness and relief and excitement. Maybe, instead of… impulsive wardrobe overhauls, she can do this. God, whatever it ends up being. All she knows is, Faith brings out something entirely innate in her — in both of them — and she’s sick of running from it.
But for now, there’s a girl, and her arms wrapped tight around her, and that’s enough.
“Okay.”
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❀。• *₊°。 ❀° 。。° ❀ 。° ₊ * •。❀
𝙷𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚑𝚊𝚔𝚒 𝙷𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜
❀。• *₊°。 ❀° 。。° ❀ 。° ₊ * •。❀
❀ Hanahaki Hours 2024 Flower Symbolism List ❀
Hanahaki Hours 2024 Calendar
Poppy
Red
- Remembrance
- Death
- Hope
- Love
- Sacrifice
- Success
- Good fortune
White
- Life without conflict
- Peace
- Faith
- Eternal life of the soul
- Pleasant dreams
Blue
- Imagination
- Thinking
- Faith
- Creativity
- Messages from angels
Pink
- Compassion
- Platonic love
- Restful sleep
Yellow
- Renewal
- Optimism
- Positive memories
Orange
- Joy
- Exuberance
- Health
- Regeneration
Purple
- Remembrance for animals during wartime
- Commitment to peace
- Luxury
- Peacefulness
- Imagination
- Beauty
- Tribute and honouring another
Black
- Elegance
- Deep sleep
- Mysterious dreams
Daisy
White
- Purity
- Innocnence
Yellow
- Joy
- Friendship
- Cheerfulness
- Well wishes
Pink
- Platonic love
- Romance
- Gentleness
Orange
- Healing
- Happiness
- Playfulness
- Warmth
- Joy
- Excitement
Red
- Love
- Passion
- Romance
- Unbreakable love and devotion (bundle)
Purple
- Thinking of someone
- Spontaneity
- Peace
- Unity
- Fun
- Apology
- Misunderstanding
- Royalty
- Pride
Blue
- Trust
- Honesty
- Loyal
Forget Me Not
Blue
- Remembrance
- Memory
- Deep emotional connections
- Pledge to never forget them and think of them often (wedding)
- Eternal love
- Think of them often
White
- Charity
- Care for less fortunate
Pink
- Romantic relationships between spouse
- True love
- Respect
- Promise to never forget someone
- Constancy
Sage
- Health and well-being
- Passion and romance
- Domestic Virtue
- Immortality
- Royalty
- Success
- Diginity
- Love
- Resilience
Green
- Balance
- Tranquility
- Growth
- Harmony
- Calmness
- Relacation
- Renewal
Purple
- Royalty
- Success
- Dignity
- Wisdom
- Spirituality
- Life
- Prosperity
- Love
- Resilience
- Protection
- Hope
Yellow
- Healing
- Protection
- Purification
Wolf's Bane
- Danger
- Evil
- Death
- Warning
- Presence of a foe
- Protection (against mythic beings)
- Transformation
- Deceit
- Murder
- Dark magic
Associated with werewolves, vampires, and witches in folklore. Should never be given as sympathy or grief due to its connotation of death. Used historically to make weapons more deadly due to how poisonous it is.
Yellow
- Warmth
- Creativity
- Deception
- Caution
- Malicious
- Hidden dangerous outcomes
- Friendship
- Appreciation
Can be used as a special warning. When all things look beautiful and well, that is not the case, and caution should be practiced for the dangers that hide beneath
Blue
- Healing
- Depression
- Anxiety
- Sorrow
- Trust
- Wishes of fast recovery
- Sympathy
Purple
- Mysteriously wicked
- Mystery
- Murder
- Poison
- Witchcraft
- Mistrust
- Hatred
Use this in a bouquet for your enemies
White
- Elegance
- Innocence
- Honesty
- Thoughtful love
- Purity
Avens
White
- Innocence
- Purity
- Clarity
- Peace
- Trust
- Serenity
Red
- Respect
- Desire
- Courage
- Joy
- Vitality
- Deep afffection
- Support
- Encouragement
Purple
- Passion
- Opulence
Yellow
- Spreading happiness
- Joy
- Friendhip
- Protection
Peony
- Good luck
- Wealth
- Fortune
- Compassion
- Romance
- Accomplisment
It was said that digging them up would result in curses and it was bad luck if they dried out.
Yellow
- Happiness
- Warmth
- Friendship
- New beginnings
- Prosperity
White
- Bashfulness
- Apology
Pink
- Luck
- Prosperity
Red
- Love
- Passion
- Honour
- Respect
Coral (Changes colour as they bloom)
- Elegance
- Good fortune
- Strong relationship
- Success
- Happiness
- Abundance
Purple
- Royalty
- Nobility
- Diginity
- Admiration
- Respect
- Romance
- Ambition
- Luxury
Orchid
- Love
- Fertility
- Charm
Pink
- Femininity
- Grace
- Thoughtfulness
- Love
- Innocence
White
- Purity
- Innocence
- Honour
Purple
- Royalty
- Luxurity
- Admiration
- Originality
- Calmness
- Enchantment
Yellow
- Friendship
- Joy
- Appreciation
- Positivity
- Optimism
Red
- Beauty
- Romance
- Love
- Strong emotions
- Intense affection
- Desire
- Courage
- Determination
Blue
- Confidence
- Loyalty
- Power
- Calmness
- Serenity
- Unique
- Mezmerizing
Orange
- Creativity
- Energy
- Fascination
Green
- Health
- Good fortune
- Sucess
- Growth
- Vitality
- Recovery
- New beginnings
Narcissus (Daffodil)
Yellow
- Mirth
- Camaraderie
- Abundance
- Positivity
- Happy chance
- Good luck
Blue
- Mystery
- Transformation
- Inspiration
Do not occur naturally
Orange
- Well-being
- Courage
- Creativity
- Nurturing love
Pink
- Femininty
- Tenderness
- Grace
- Gratitude
- Affectionate love
- Passion (deeper pink)
- Energy (deeper pink)
- Strength (deeper pink)
#hanahaki hours#hanahaki hours 2024#hanahaki disease#hanahaki#flowers#flower#symbolism#flower symbolism#flower list#the coffee fandom
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What We've Lost
Summary: The prequel to To Be Back In Step; Set a bit post-Endgame. Essentially the pot before it boils over, the pot boiling over, and then having to put more water in the pot to restart making the ramen, and then watching that water come to a boil like a hawk.
Pairing: Christine Palmer x Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Reader (Platonic)
Warning(s): Dark Themes; This is an angsty boi, but hey read TBBIS and you get a happy(?)..-let’s use a neutral word- decent ending for the Reader, The buildup to dark!reader, 616- Chrissy being a bit of a dumbass, Stephen is still a self-ingratiating dick (as per usual in this universe), R and Wanda being two sad bitches with overwhelming powers and trauma and grief….so besties. Also Language (because, again, this is me we’re talking about here-)
Notes: The patience you and I needed to have to get this here- when I tell you this shit has been in the works and sitting in my doc before it was even requested, before TBBIS was even finished, I mean that shit. (Mainly because I had so much more that I wanted to write here, TBBIS just wound up done quicker. To be fair to myself, this shit is just about QUADRUPLE the length of TBBIS-) But I also mean it when I say life has been kicking my ass like this is Mario Strikers T-T. but hey hey it’s here! so I hope y’all enjoy :3
Word Count: bud, you're looking at a little more than 8.3k
*squints* I give NO ONE permission to repost or translate my work. Make your own shit
“When I went under, the world was at war. I wake up, they say we won. They didn’t say what we lost.”- Steve Rogers, Captain America
-----
You were so tired.
Too many people had to die for this “plan” to work. You watched as Tony Stark snapped his fingers to undo this entire mess while stewing on the fact that this shitshow could’ve and should’ve been avoided.
As much as you wanted to just be done with everything after the battle, you had to tend to your duties as Sorcerer Supreme.
You spent your first few weeks back making sure everything was functioning properly. It was probably the most important of the duties The Ancient One prepared you for. The people that were brought back from The Snap in less-than-ideal conditions were moved to safety, those that had loved ones were taken to them as well.
There was an incident in New Jersey that you were meant to look into and fix, but it was suddenly marked out of your jurisdiction as those below your station marked it as “Dealt With”. Trusting this, you had to use your astral form for the last bit of your maintenance. The conditions of the mystical and spiritual worlds needed to be accounted for and settled as they’d gone awry in your absence.
You’d think they have someone able to handle this while you were gone.
As soon as you were sure the time to be selfless was over, you headed out. Despite your fatigue from restoring balance and the heavy decline of adrenaline, you managed to have your sling ring finally take you to the one place you wanted to be. Looking up at your shared penthouse, your only concern was making sure Christine was okay and making sure this dusting mess didn’t take too much out of her, whether she was or wasn’t dusted herself didn’t matter to you.
The lock was stubborn as your key didn’t slide in anymore. Using some quick magic, you simply undid the lock yourself before making your way inside.
You almost thought you had the wrong house.
The walls were repainted, taking you back to the few swatches you remember Christine showing you. They complimented the ebony wood perfectly, just like she said they would.
It was everything else that made you raise an eyebrow.
The sleek metal accents clashed heavily with the questionable minimalist paintings, neither of which you remember being mentioned between the two of you, the big L-shaped couch sitting in the living room instead of the cozy pair of couches you’d gotten shortly after getting this place. These pieces were gaudier than you’d like, and they weren’t really Christine’s style either. One look at the pictures over the mantle of the newly finished fireplace told you why:
Strange.
Pictures of Christine and Stephen together, new pictures you’d never seen, sat in frames. Your eyes rested on the “centerpiece”.
Their wedding photo.
You immediately felt your heart drop, seemingly drilling a hole for the rapidly growing pit in your stomach. You sunk to your knees, eyes fixed on the five by seven.
An icy numb feeling took hold of your body. Coddled by despair and reassured by slowly building anguish.
Then you heard it. The soft click of the door shutting somewhere to your left. Your eyes clenched shut at the sound of those familiar light steps. She was still in her work clothes. She changed shifts.
You didn’t even flinch as you heard what must have been groceries abruptly fall to the ground. It wasn’t until you heard her voice, brimming with a series of emotions that your shoulders jumped involuntarily.
“Y/n?”
You slowly turned your head to look over your shoulder to see her looking right at you. Christine was still in her scrubs, light auburn hair tied back in her usual fashion. As you’d guessed, she’d just gotten off of work.
Taken out of her stupor, Christine rushed forward, joining you on the floor and wrapping her arms around your shoulders. you could only manage to loosely grasp her biceps as your eyes began to water.
Nothing truly registered as Chirstine continued to check you over, proclamations of relief and confusion tumbling out of her mouth as your gaze stayed on the resident of her fourth finger.
That’s not your ring.
Christine stopped fussing over your haggard appearance when you had yet to say a word to her. Bringing her hands to cup your face, your eyes were glassy as you appeared to look through her, hyper focused on the bit of cool metal that met your skin.
“Y/n, baby, talk to me.” Her honeyed words came out thoughtlessly before Christine took a pause, unsure if it was for your benefit or her own.
For you, the phrase brought anything but comfort, because it was tainted. It was scalding ice as your head all but tore from her grip.
“Let go- Let go of me!”
You skittered backward, your palms slipping slightly on the hardwood as you try to keep balance. You go to collect your thoughts when all that keeps running through your head is that this shouldn’t have happened.
This shouldn’t have happened to you.
Whenever something seems to be going right for you it always comes back to-
You both heard a familiar hiss and crackle as orange sparks form into a portal, one Stephen Strange stepping into the room. His steps stop short at seeing your figure in his home.
But you supposed that’s expected.
There’s a lull in the tense atmosphere as Stephen levels his gaze with yours. “Y/n, your presence is presently required at Kamar-Taj. If you’d come with me, please.”
Your eyes squint on reflex at the out-of-place request, taking you out of the vacuum you felt sucked into. While you certainly could understand why they would need to see you, you’d been gone for an especially long time no doubt, you didn’t want to go anywhere with Stephen Strange right now.
One look at the expression on your face was enough to let the sorcerer know you wouldn’t exactly be compliant. “Please, Y/n. It’s urgent.”
Rising to your feet, your jaw clenched as you got ready to deny him with eyes focused back onto Christine. You wanted to talk, to figure out what had happened on her end, and if she was okay, your own pain set aside.
While you were still gathering your bearings, it seemed that Stephen’s courtesy and patience only ran so far as you were brought into another portal he’d quickly created, bringing you to Kamar Taj himself.
Regaining your balance was easy, but the disdain you felt for your situation came tenfold as you were thrust back into a situation you had not wanted to deal with at the moment, nor did it matter nearly as much to you right now.
You weren’t slow. The love of your life had apparently moved on and married Stephen. While that reality broke you, Christine was still your friend. You were both adults, and you wanted to speak to her. Initial hurt and even anger aside, if she was happy now then… That’s all there was, wasn’t it? You don’t know that you could even deny her that, you’d just wish she would have been happy with you.
Like she could have been.
As you watched Stephen walk up the steps to the temple you merely watched him before speaking up, “Take me back.”
Stopping short, Stephen turned around to address you, “Again, the matter is urgent. It has to do with your title of Sorcerer Supreme.”
At this, you merely let out a sigh before begrudgingly moving forward to follow. “Let’s get this over with then.”
making your way into the main corridor, you observed that the other masters of the Mystic Arts were in attendance, seated and waiting. They all stood up to bow as you and Stephen came into view. You bowed toward everyone out of respect before moving to make your way further into the hall, only to be stopped by Wong.
“Well, are you going to let me through?”
Wong kept his hand firm on your shoulder keeping you in place, “You must remain in the center for the proceedings to commence.”
You furrowed your brows, “Why? I’m not being tried for a crime or misconduct, it’s a matter of discussing upkeep while I was away, correct?”
Wong merely remained silent before moving past you to take a seat of his own. “Stay here.” You school your face as everyone goes past you, feeling another brush pass your shoulder.
Once you made your way to the center as requested and everyone else was situated, Stephen spoke up. “We may now begin if everyone is ready.”
You actually raised your hand, though it was unnecessary seeing as though you were at the front of everyone’s vision. “Actually, I would like to know what this gathering is about specifically, seeing as though this is the first I’m hearing of it. Great confusion, as you can imagine.” Even now you couldn’t completely get rid of your snark brought on by annoyance of being left in the dark.
It was Sara who spoke up, “You have been assumed dead, lost to us, for five years, Dr. L/n, and while you have been away many things have had to change.” Her tone was light and even sympathetic. easing into this information seemed the best way in her mind.
One of the masters a few seats down spoke next, “Yes, and one of those things was finding someone to be suited with the title of Sorcerer Supreme in your sudden absence.” They were less subtle going forward and you weren’t sure if you appreciated that or not. Their hands remained folded in front of them as they continued. “Stephen Strange was appointed Sorcerer Supreme in your place. We are here today to give our verdict on who will maintain that title going forward.”
At this revelation, you closed your eyes, taking a second to let the words sink in. Again, logical choices that you could bring no fault to, but as you ran your thumb over the face of your pocket watch in your pants, something began to stink.
While you had been gone for the last half a decade, and you truthfully couldn’t have known what transpired between then and now, you knew one thing: none of this was supposed to happen…but you couldn’t specifically remember why. There was a sudden haziness to your memories that unsettled you.
You simply stood quiet as you listened to them deliberate. Though you had been gone and more than likely behind on mystical affairs, it wasn’t really your fault or intention that you’d been essentially dead for five years.
Some wanted to keep you on, being chosen by the late ancient one herself and wanting to honor that. You’d done especially well as Sorcerer Supreme. Others viewed this to be a moot point as the cycle of Sorcerer Supreme continues with or without you there, and it’d be tedious to catch you up to speed when they already had someone appointed that didn’t need such things. Your eyes were brought back to Stephen, who carefully kept his gaze from meeting yours.
“While we’ve honored and appreciated L/n’s work as the Sorcerer Supreme, the world has changed much while they were…away. The physical and the spiritual plaine have been set off kilter by The Snap five years ago. We need the Sorcerer Supreme to help guide that hand, and preferably one who has seen the damage firsthand.”
“While I agree, Y/n L/n was appointed Sorcerer Supreme by the Ancient One herself who taught them to lead this role, and it was of understanding that the current Sorcerer Supreme was to choose the next. While Dr. Strange’s work is also appreciated a great value, there are also those that see it as no longer necessary now that the rightfully appointed is back. Informing L/n of the current state of affairs is but a small price to pay in their unexpected disappearance.”
“Need we all be reminded how this “disappearance” occurred in the first place? I think we all are aware that it was also Y/n L/n’s duty as Sorcerer Supreme to protect the time stone, and somehow the Mad Titan, Thanos, acquired it without issue. Their incompetence led to not only their disappearance, but half of the population! It was Stephen Strange who tried to fit everything back together with some success before everyone was brought back. I believe the choice is obvious,”
“Well, Dr. Y/n L/n, how do you plead in this course of events?”
How do you plead?
This wasn’t a discussion or even a fair trial. This was more like an arraignment.
Why were things playing out this way, as if the very snap was your fault? You recall going to Titan and having the plan go smoothly, you could see Tony Stark and his spider-powered charge making headway getting the gauntlet off of Thanos’ hand. You even remember getting ready to subdue Peter Quill to stop the stupid decision you knew he was gearing up to make.
Everything was working until it wasn’t.
You’d somehow lost focus as you’d felt the shift that came with not having the time stone on your person. You lost the time stone. How did you lose the time stone?
Your eyes flitted to Stephen as you tried to get your mind to cooperate with your mouth as it felt almost like trying to wade through a pool of molasses. Something fucking stinks.
“While I cannot excuse the loss of the time stone, I can only assure you that my integrity as the Sorcerer Supreme, as merely a user of the Mystic Arts rather, that it will never happen again naturally. The circumstances were grave and cannot all be placed on one individual, but they occurred in part because of me, and I accept the consequences that come with oversight that happened on my part. I would-”
Someone's trying to speak through you.
You stopped to take a deep breath to refocus and gain control. “.... I would also like to bring to mind that the rest of my actions during my time as Sorcerer Supreme go unnamed and uncredited while they are overshadowed by this singular lapse in judgment. Even before knowing the state of things at present, ensuring the safety and stability of our world was the first thing I took to after the battle with Thanos was over. Several issues that were left to fester, in my absence I assume, were handled efficiently. I assure you my absence has not hindered my ability on that front. I simply wish to continue my role as the Sorcerer Supreme in whatever form that takes and bring things to rights now that I’m present. That is all I can ask of any of you.”
While you were able to cut whatever ventriloquist act was going on short, you couldn’t double back now. But you did offer some sort of truth by the end. You see Stephen’s eye twitch out of the corner of your eye. Him with a few other masters were unsettled with the latter half of your statement while others seemed to genuinely think this over. With your statement given, you merely had to wait while the rest of the Mystic Arts users decided. Your head was only somewhat clearer than it had been by the time you got there, and the more it cleared up, the angrier you got.
But even that felt subdued while you were in the temple.
‘What the actual fuck is going on?’
As that question occurred to you, the door to the main corridor was opened by none other than Stephen Strange, and you were almost certain that he was a key player in your plight.
Stephen simply stepped to the side as he held the door open for you to pass through, “We’ve reached a verdict.”
You heaved one more sigh as you made your way back to the main room. By now the outcome was already a foregone conclusion, and maybe that’s why you couldn’t be bothered to fight harder. Everything seemed to cast you in dim lighting, and what were you to do about it?
Why couldn’t you fight harder?
You just walked to the center of the room awaiting the words you knew were coming.
“Everyone that is present, as Masters of the Mystic Arts, have come to the decision that Stephen Strange will fulfill the role of Sorcerer Supreme. Y/n L/n, you, still recognized as a fellow Master of the Mystic Arts and gifted sorcerer, are implored to teach the next of us here at Kamar Taj to be of use-” The rest of whatever shpiel was white noise as you took in their words.
Be of use…
Is that all they cared about?
Surely you weren’t the only one that knew something didn’t sit right. While you’d been made to wait for hours as the council went back and forth their view on the entire matter made it all feel like padded time. Was no one considering the fact that this entire "trial" felt so fucking empty? Why couldn’t you put it into words.
You know things weren’t supposed to be this way.
The green glow by your hip drew your attention to the now empty Eye of Agamotto on your belt. Its glow subtlety made its way up to your temples and passed through your ears with a new sense of clarity. Vague confusion became clear anger as you realized your words were purposefully getting caught in your throat, having to listen to an incomplete verdict. Not being allowed to speak at your own sentencing, for lack of a better term, was probably just what they wanted anyhow.
You stood stock still with a mask of neutrality as you waited for this meeting to be over. They need nothing else from you; You don’t have the time stone anymore, and the third Eye of Agamotto chose you. Its scope of power was outside any of their purview anyways, today only served to prove that.
As the meeting wrapped soon after, everyone began to filter out of the main room to leave, you being one of the last.
You felt a small pat on your shoulder.
“Hang in there, Y/n.”
Looking at the back of Stephen’s head as he made his way out, you didn’t hesitate to kick him in the back. There was only one thing left on your mind as that anger you felt bubbling up came back with a vengeance. “This was all you!”
Stephen, now on the ground, turned onto his side to look up at you, his gaze was almost a smug indifference that made you want to tear it right off of his face. “Look, Y/n, if this is about Christine, it was her choice. That had nothing to do-”
“Don’t try and feed me that bullshit, Strange! You preyed on her vulnerability at my ‘supposed’ death, you piece of shit!” You slammed another bout of kicks into his exposed side as the situation became all too clear. “You gave Thanos the fucking time stone! You got rid of half the goddamn planet, you got rid of me, so you could finally get what you so badly wanted, Stephen! You couldn’t leave well enough alone! You couldn’t stand that someone was naturally beating you at life that you had to go and royally fuck it over so that you, Dr. Stephen Strange, can come out on top!”
“I’m sorry that you feel that way Y/n, even if you have sich a distorted memory of those events. But what’s done is done. We can’t change the past, but we can continue to move forward in the present. I hope that you are able to do that with time, L/n.” The manufactured sympathy wasn’t lost on you. The calm and placating voice he used to mock you seemed to echo as he finally left the main room with an air of superiority.
Watching the doors come together leaving you by yourself, you let out a scream of frustration as your head rested in your hands. You took a look around the hall. You felt your emotions wash over you as the events from the past few days crashed on top of you and knocked you down. The anguish, the confusion, the anger, the sadness. All of it amounts to this foreign, grating feeling of helplessness.
Your eyes stayed to the floor as you mulled over what you would do next, and one thing became clear: You wouldn’t stay here.
You flexed your fingers at your sides as you began to think quick on your feet, they wouldn’t leave you alone for long if they were smart.
Making a small formation with your hands, two portals appeared in a ray of green sparks, one significantly smaller than the other. Taking off your sling ring, you tossed it into the smaller portal leading to a pocket dimension. Facing the bigger portal, you didn’t hesitate to walk through.
You were thrust into the new environs of Romania, close to the Carpathian Mountains.
Looking up, you saw the sun just starting its descent as you looked for any people around. Finding none, you released a quick sigh of relief. Heading toward the mountains to prepare for nightfall, you felt an odd spike of energy.
Magic specifically.
It wasn’t a signature that you recognized all too well, so you weighed your chances. Worst case scenario, they’ll be associated with any of the people you left in Kamar Taj which seems unlikely. They could attack you too, but you could handle them quick enough if you had to. Best case: You get some supplies from a random magic user and go about your way. With your mind made up, you made your way closer to the source of the magic signature.
-----
By the time the sky had gone from peachy orange to plum purple, you’d reached an isolated cabin. Your footfalls quiet, you made sure to conceal your own signature as you made it to the door. Knocking lightly on it a good few times, you stood waiting for someone to answer. No reason not to put your best foot forward.
Eventually, you heard movement from inside before the door slowly opened up revealing someone you didn’t think you’d be seeing anytime soon. “Ms. Maximoff?”
Her own eyebrows furrowed as she took in who was standing in front of her. “Y/n? Y/n L/n?”
Slowly nodding, you looked behind you needlessly to see if there was anyone else behind you before focusing back on her. “Yes, can I come in?”
Wanda also looked out her door to see if there was anyone with you before stepping aside to let you in. “Please.”
Looking around as you walked through, you breathed some warmth into your hands coming from outside. Wanda directed you to a couch as she only stared after you for a second, still confused and even cautious. You hadn’t seen each other since the battle with Thanos as you found yourselves fighting alongside each other.
Wanda idly stoked the fire in the hearth with the poker while her eyes were far away, her mind running quickly in a moment of anxiety. Were you here to issue your own punishment to her for what she did in Westview? Would she be going to a high security prison again? She would have to after all that she’s done. No one would be satisfied with less.
Wanda thought she’d gone far enough away to be left alone and for her to rid the public of her presence, lest they think ill of her owning a house on a row-home corner. When Wanda made her cabin here, she figured it was perfect. She was as close as she could be to home with Sokovia having been blown to bits years ago.
You watched as Wanda Eventually settled in her own seat on the couch, leveling you with her own gaze. “You’ll have to forgive me for the sudden appearance, Ms. Maximoff. I didn’t even know that I’d wind up here really,”
Wanda merely gave a bit of a forced laugh through her nose as she used a waiting tea kettle to refill her cup while red wisps brought another cup out presumably from her kitchen area. “Only if you forgive the lack of hospitality I’ve been able to prepare.”
You let the corner of your lips pull upward as you took the now filled cup of tea, cradling it for more heat to run through your cold hands. “Done.”
-----
There was a common ground between the two of you: You had no one else. You found out that Wanda was behind the incident in Westview, New Jersey as well as why the incident occurred in the first place. Apparently “dealt with” meant they just lost her when she went MIA from the scene. Wanda Maximoff had your sympathies beforehand, but it feels like the world is especially cruel to a select few.
After you explained what had happened in your life recently, Wanda felt a similar bout of sympathy, and she allowed you to stay at her cabin. Her hesitation at you being there all but went away the more the two of you began to talk.
As the weeks turned into months, you and Wanda had come to make your own piece of peace with each other in this cabin and an easy friendship was born between the two of you. Willfully living life without using your powers substantially was a much-needed respite for the both of you. It almost helped remind the both of you that you were human first.
You'd taken to putting together a farm and orchard. It was tiring work and successfully growing them was even more so, but it felt just as rewarding. You eventually used your own sorcery to keep livestock in their designated area to graze in while also helping tutor Wanda disguise and eventually remove her own magic signature so that neither she nor the cabin would be found by others.
You were content...for the most part.
The longer you stayed in the cabin, the more your mind filled with thoughts and memories of Christine.
This newfound experience of domestic bliss you had with Wanda was welcome but mocking at the same time. Taunting you of all the things you could have done with Christine; the simpler things that were few and far between.
~~~
Giving the pot a final stir, you cut off the heat of the stove before feeling two arms wrap loosely around your waist. You give a brief laugh through your nose before looking over your shoulder to catch the eye of the auburn-haired woman. “Yes, can I help you, Chrissy?”
Christine gave you a brief squeeze, “That depends: Are you still holding the kitchen on lockdown?”
You gave her an exaggerated noise of agitation, “I’m simply trying to make us a perfect dinner. If you want half ass we can still order out-”
Christine placed a few quick kisses on your cheek, “Now I never said that. Spaghetti’s never smelt so good, Y/n/n.”
You let out a small thank you with a grumble as Christine moved away to grab plates and utensils for the both of you.
It was the end of your first week in the new house after unpacking. The both of you were still getting used to the new layout and where everything was when you decided to make dinner for the two of you.
Christine made sure to show you her appreciation later that night...
~~~
It was seven months after you’d started staying With Wanda that you’d discussed actually going into the local market to get other supplies and groceries for the cabin. For you, it was all a part of doing things without jumping to using your powers like you had been. Initially, anyway.
There was a darkness that you couldn’t seem to slip out of while you were here, being reminded of you and Christine together and happy, only to remember that she was married and happy to Stephen Strange on the opposite end of the planet.
You just wanted to have a reason to step out and clear your head now and again. You chocked it up to going stir crazy.
Wanda was immediately against this to begin with, not wanting to risk a single appearance in the public.
You set down the drying cloth on the counter as you put the last clean dish away, having just ate dinner together. “I just think it’s something we can consider at this point. Get into a new sense of normalcy, you know?” You kept your eyes trained on the empty sink as you heard Wanda's movements become stunted.
Wanda’s relaxed mood was almost immediately choked out by your proposition, “No. Absolutely not.”
You could feel her want to leave both the room and the conversation, but you pushed it forward still. “Wanda, hear me out please,” You knew she would react this way, practically expected it, and kept a steady stance.
Wanda stared across the kitchen island at you with her head tilted, her palms resting flat on the surface of the island. “We’re not doing this, Y/n and We’ve talked about this before. I’m not giving anyone any kind of fuel to have the public hate me any more than they already do. End of discussion.”
You kept your voice level as you too leaned on the granite top. “You don’t even have to come with me, Wands. At the very least I want to do this for myself.”
“No, you’re not going either! You have people actively looking for you too, Y/n!”
“They won’t find me out here, you know what I’m capable of Wanda. I’m just asking you to trust me.”
“I do trust you-- I just-” She releases an unexpectedly shaky breath as she leans back on the cool metal of the fridge behind her. Her eyes shut as her arms cross tightly over her chest as if she’s hugging herself.
You come around to stand directly in front of the redhead with your hands resting on her shoulders. You watch as she takes a couple of breaths before tilting her head downward, looking at the ground.
“You are my best friend Y/n, my only friend that's still around. I trust you more than I have most people in my life. It’s everyone else that I don’t trust-- that I…I can’t trust. Not right now. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”
You bring Wanda into an embrace as your thumb runs up and down on her back in a calming gesture.
And you didn’t bring it up again.
You understand Wanda’s worry- Wanda’s fear, and it wasn’t necessarily unfounded. Wanda has quite literally lost everything trying to trust in others, and for her, the safest hands her loved ones can be are her own. That’s not something you can just will away. Wanda would have to come around to the idea on her own, and that was something you were willing to forget about.
—----------
A few more months went by, and the leaves began to fall again. You were behind the cabin making your rounds in the pasture. Currently wheeling out the chicken feed, you slowed your pace when you saw Wanda make her way out of the cabin.
You could tell Wanda was a bit uneasy as she made her way up to you. “Everything alright, Wanda?” Her movements were a bit jerky, hesitant as she nodded briefly.
Wanda didn’t know how to go about the conversation she wanted to start, “...We have an excess from the harvest again, don’t we?” It wasn’t a surprise or even a real question; there was always excess.
You carefully set the wheelbarrow off to the side, “Yeah. I still have to place all the extra in another pocket dimension like usual. I’ll probably do that after I finish up here,”
“You aren’t worried it’s going to waste, wherever you put them?”
“Mm, sometimes. I try and remember to cast preservation protectants on everything before it goes in. No big deal.”
Wanda knew how you felt about things as they were now. You trusted her enough to not have your mental barrier fortified all the time.
Wanda knew this sort of monotonous routine was eating away at you.
You thought about Christine Palmer more than you cared to admit out loud. What you'd had together was something you didn’t think you’d ever find again, and it was almost cruel how you were trapped with those memories.
A sort of malice began to build up inside, and it upset Wanda to see you that way. Even if you hardly showed it.
This cabin was supposed to be a peaceful place where you both found solace, and yet, that was getting corrupted for you more and more.
Wanda looked in the direction of the small barn, “Maybe you could see if the locals would take them. At the markets, I mean.” Maybe more room to stretch your legs or even new scenery would help you.
Your eyes widened at Wanda’s idea, “Are you sure, Wands? That’s not necessary, really-”
Turning to rest a hand on your forearm, Wanda stopped you from rambling on. “I’m sure, Y/n. A new sense of normalcy, remember? That’s all this is.”
It took a bit more reassurance from Wanda before you conceded and grabbed a heavier coat while she got a few crates together for you to take along with you to the open market.
Wanda double checked everything for you before sending you on your way, telling you to at least be home by five.
Watching you head off into the sea of trees, Wanda cradles her cup of tea closer to herself, resisting the urge to call you back as soon as she couldn't see you anymore.
Wanda had no desire to visit other people, but that didn’t mean she’d deprive you of the opportunity. She was also worried for your mental state that seemed to get worse under the surface. You’d been nothing but understanding of her, offering to help her through her own plights. Wanda could definitely do the same for you on this front, especially when all you seemed to want was space from familiar surroundings. Even if that small want was enough to scare her.
And even further; the thought that her fear wasn’t misplaced.
—-------------------
You move around people with practiced ease as you make your way through the smaller marketplace, it being more full than usual due to the upcoming holidays. Even with all the customers around, you made your way to the back of a specific stall.
You tried not to spend too much time here any other week, but you were cutting it a bit close today with all the pedestrian traffic.
Reaching your destination, you went around the back of Octav’s shop. This was the most reliable vendor you found in the marketplace to drop off your goods. Octav was a plump old man who never asked too many questions and ran his shop like a well-oiled machine.
You set the two full crates down, “Octav, you and the wife doin’ alright?” You made small talk as you passed the man your crates over the counter.
“We’re good. Our daughter and her family are coming down in a few weeks for holidays.” He would unload your goods and then refill them with his own wares for you to take back to the cabin.
“Well, I know there are a few chickens in there, a lot of produce too. You should really show out to the family; Have a big dinner and all that.”
Octav passed the crates back to you with a small smile and a nod. “My Vena will like that, she likes cooking.” He was never much of a talker.
You give a quick nod back, “Well I’m off, have a good one Octav. Be seeing you,”
“Wait”
You turn your head to look back at the older man, a brow raised in confusion. He gestures for you to come closer with a small hand movement. quickly checking around you, you get closer to his market stall.
Octav places a hand on your shoulder, “There was a man looking for you the other day,” he spoke in a lower voice, his English was highly accented and slightly choppy.
Your eyes narrowed at the counter as you took in what the vendor said. In a way you should’ve expected this. You didn’t notice yourself getting sloppy, but who’s to say Strange didn’t have people checking every crevice they could find.
“What’d they look like?”
“He wore an odd getup with a big red cape. gray hair on the sides with a goatee, pretty tall. Very American.” Stange. Of fucking course.
“He was alone, asked everyone if we’d seen someone who looked enough like you that I just let him pass on through. He made a big stink of things too.”
You let out a sigh as you rubbed the space between your eyebrows trying to relieve the headache that was bound to start. Looking back up at Octav, you set the two crates on the ground. You kept your hand out of view as you made a quick portal to your pocket dimension, the crates easily dropping into it.
You adjusted the cap on your head to sit a bit lower, throwing the hood of your jacket up as well. The last thing you need to do is panic or draw attention to yourself. Blend in and get to safety first.
Octav merely watched you with a glint of concern in his eyes, “Are you in trouble with that man, Y/n?”
You stopped rooting through your pocket for a second, “Something like that- hey look. Thanks for letting me know. I’ll be alright but listen, you get home safe Octavy, it’s just starting to get dark out here. Give Vena and the family a hug for me will ya? I gotta get goin’.” You made sure to thicken your Romanian pronunciation as you finally got your pocket watch out to check the time. 5:27. You’re already late getting back.
Turning to head out of the market, the last thing you catch the old man murmur was a quick “be safe” before you made your way to the edge of the market square.
You had to think this through. If Strange was roaming around this area looking for you, it would only be a matter of time before he found Wanda and the cabin, magic signature or not. He could be thorough like that. Stephen Strange was stupid, but he wasn’t dumb. If Strange found Wanda he more than likely would take her in to punish her further for the Westview incident, and you simply weren’t willing to let that happen to your friend.
Stephen Strange was here to get you, and he would get only you.
There wasn’t a way to avoid being found without raising further suspicion in the area with a zero-energy signature area of land that simply wasn’t there before. There was no way out of this.
You could almost feel the presence following you before you stopped in a clearing. “Don’t waste my time, Strange. Your cloaking has always been shit.” You looked over your shoulder as you watched Stephen appear a ways away. His eyes narrowed on yours with a clenched jaw. “What a year will do to you, those frown lines are much deeper than they were before.”
You were making your way to the smaller wooded area, not too far from the market entrance, where you cloaked a Waystone to get back to the cabin to alert Wanda when you stopped short of uncovering it...
You dug around in your pocket and grasped a small roll of paper you kept in your coat in case of emergency. Rolling it between your thumb and middle fingers, you inconspicuously flicked the paper at the travel-point instead before you changed course walking away from the Waystone and further into the woods. He’s already here. Wanda needs to get clear and quickly.
His glare was unwavering, “All the stress from work if I had to guess.”
You let out an empty hum as you faced forward again. You heard him take a few steps toward you. “I’m not going back, Strange. I feel like you know that.” You could feel your powers surging from within, ready to defend yourself.
Stephen let out an exasperated breath as his own powers were licking at his palms. “Can we skip the dialogue and quit the running Y/n? Seems it’s all you ever do these days.”
A smile crept over your face, but there was no warmth behind it as you turned to face the ‘Sorcerer Supreme’. “Well, here I am. Not running.”
There was a stillness in the air as you both anticipated the other striking. When you saw Strange blink was when you struck him with your own magic. There was no wind up required as your Eye of Agamotto, still fastened to your hip, crackled to life. Green lightning hit him hard and fast, knocking the sorcerer backward. You hit him with three more in quick succession as you carefully angled yourself further and further away from the cabin.
It had to only be you.
Strange began to retaliate with his own strikes to try and gain the upper hand. It wasn’t fully effective, the attacks only pushing you back bit by bit…Like he was holding back….
This almost felt like a-
You were blindsided as another portal appeared by your head as an unexpected Wong came flying out and leveled you with a full force kick to the temple, knocking you out instantly.
As you slumped on the ground, Stephen came to stand above you, his face twisted in a grimace before he looked at Wong. “That could have killed them, you know?” He was uneasy, but there wasn’t any real heat behind his words.
Wong also looked down at your limp form, “It was the quickest way. They would have gotten away otherwise.” He quickly used his sling ring to make a portal to Kamar Taj, Strange following after him.
Stephen turned to face your body and used his own sorcery to lift and bring you through the portal before it closed.
With nothing but a note, Wanda was left safe and sound...and alone once again.
~~~
You and Christine laid together in bed, you on your stomach and Christine on her back. Her nails running up and down your back mindlessly as you both just talked softly and enjoyed each other’s company.
“These moments with you are the ones that I love the most.”
grabbing her free hand, you intertwined your fingers together before kissing them. “Me too,”
You felt the pace of Christine’s nails slow down, “It’s a shame we won’t be able to have any more of them.”
Your brows furrowed before turning to face Christine as she still has that same small smile on her face. “What’re you talking about?”
Christine’s face only showed confusion at your response, “I’m with Stephen now. We won’t have any of this anymore. It would be me and him”
“You and Stephen?”
“Yeah, he and I are married now. Don’t you remember?”
Abruptly the scene began to change as the walls around you became darker, the bed became bigger. You didn’t recognize any of the pictures hanging on the walls anymore.
You could feel your world beginning to fall in on itself as your heart rate hit an uptick. “Wait, it wasn’t supposed to be like this! We were- I was!-” there were so many things that you wanted to say- needed to say.
Christine had a sympathetic smile on her face now, everything just felt cold. “I know, Y/n/n, but-”
The doorknob to your shared bedroom began to turn, and through the open door came the last person you ever wanted to see.
“Oh, back already, honey?” Something twisted in your chest when you saw Christine’s face light up when her eyes rested on Stephen Strange.
His answering smile was coy, and one you wanted to erase from his face forever. “I just went to light the fireplace; it wasn’t that long.”
All you felt was cold. Why was it so fucking cold?
~~~
Suddenly it was as if you were having an out of body experience, moving further and further away from Christine. A bystander in your own nightmare, you couldn’t look away nor would your eyes shut as Christine brought Stephen in for a deep kiss while maintaining eye contact with you. You were made to watch as Stephen Strange ruined Christine in every way for you. You could almost feel the warmth she had for you dissipating as she grew further and further away from you until she was gone.
Ah... That's why you felt so cold.
You woke up in a cell of sorts. Looking around, you recognized the artifacts around the larger room: You were under the main temple of Kamar Taj.
The cell was reinforced with magic that you couldn’t break through, not for lack of trying. Your Eye of Agamotto was still on your person, not that anyone else could remove it anyhow. The cell would almost fight back as it threw your own magic at you. Soon enough, you heard the familiar hiss of a portal appearing as you watched Stephen Strange step through.
Your face immediately set into a scowl as you watched him come closer. “What do you even want with me now, Strange? You’re already the Sorcerer Supreme.”
Stephen’s face was kept neutral as he stood in front of your cell. “The knowledge of the Sorcerer Supreme is unique in that there are things only they know. They pass this knowledge onto the next Sorcerer Supreme before they die and so on. You’ve caused a bit of a hiccup in this cycle,”
Your eyes rolled to the ceiling, “I would say sorry for living, but I fear that it wouldn’t be giving a genuine apology.”
Stephen continued like you hadn’t spoken. “We’ve all come to the conclusion that since you hold sacred knowledge that you can’t just be left to your own devices, as recent developments would have you placed as a risk to the natural and mystic world. All of us at Kamar Taj have discussed how to proceed with your presence here going forward. One option was to simply fix the cycle and have you die-”
“Sounds lovely, honestly,”
“-The other was to have you live out your days here at Kamar Taj and put your knowledge as former Sorcerer Supreme to good use and teach and assist the other students here in the mystic arts as, regrettably, you know things that even I do not. You have proven too volatile to be left to yourself, so you will stay here. This is the best-case scenario that I could persuade the other masters to compromise on.”
“Mmm…Dying still sounds pretty compelling,”
You could tell Stephen was fed up with you, “Would you just listen?! This isn’t a joke Y/n-”
You abruptly stood up, marching straight up to the barrier separating you and Strange. “No, it IS! It honestly is! You cannot be serious right now. This offer I’m meant to leap at because I get to live! I get to live on fucking house arrest in a place I hardly recognize! I get to clean up more messes of ingrates and tutor you on how to do your job in a position that you shouldn’t even hold! Do not come and propose this ‘ideal compromise’ to me as if you did not orchestrate the fucking disintegration of my entire life! Every single piece of goddamn happiness was ripped away from me! By YOU!”
You throw your hands in the air, green sparks fly all around your cell as you unceremoniously fall back onto the ground. Stephen says nothing as he looks at you with a stare that almost reads as regret before it’s gone.
You stare blankly at the ceiling, “Go to hell and stay there, Stephen Strange.”
Without another word, Stephen leaves the room.
If you were lucky, they would just put you out of your misery and be done with it.
But of course you weren’t.
You were kept alive and in your cell like a trapped animal.
You almost felt like the magic mirror or the genie in a bottle. Others came down to see you in latch ditch efforts to fix problems beyond their ability, Stephen more often than not was the one to see you.
You didn’t teach anyone, and maybe that was for the better. You’d been relegated to the scary monster in the basement that others were warned to stay away from. Any sane or rational person would ask why, it wasn’t like you were a criminal. All it did was isolate you further.
And with that isolation came anger.
Came resentment.
You committed no crime and here you were. Made to be a prisoner of life when life had nothing left to offer you. It was like some sick joke. Too dangerous to live but still too valuable to be killed outright.
The Sorcerer Supreme was recently called away with a disturbance in New York, so you hadn’t seen him much. Maybe that was to his own benefit.
In your time alone you were almost haunted by the happy memories that you had, and your mind kept coming back to Christine. How content both of you were with each other until Stephen Strange ruined it all. The reality of things was thrown in your face every time you looked at where you were; every time you looked at the simple band on Strange’s ring finger.
Resignation soon turned into malice. And it continued to grow the longer you were in the presence of Doctor Stephen Strange. Memories gone by became dreams of watching the light leave Strange’s body, falling limp and lifeless. These dreams were what fed you.
There was a familiar magic signature that pulled you out of your stupor as you sat up. What’s going on now?
You ran your thumb over the cracked face of your pocket watch as you heard rapid footsteps above you. Thinking about Christine was pain, but a sort of numbness set in. You couldn’t blame her for how things turned out between the two of you, but you could definitely blame him.
#marvel#marvel one shots#multiverse of madness#doctor strange multiverse of madness#stephen strange#doctor strange#wanda maximoff#scarlet witch#christine palmer#christime palmer x reader#wanda maximoff x reader#what we've lost#back in step#jc ink canons#jc inkworks#ink.chrissy#ink.wanda#ib-jc.
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Hello, I struggle with something really weird.
I get attracted to fictional characters...
I do not think about sex with them, but I obsess over them in a very extreme way. Almost like a real boyfriend.
To make matters worse and more embarrassing, it is often villains I'm attracted to. I'm obsessed with the idea of trying to "change" a villain into being good. It is almost like some fetish, except it's not about sex but about that particular relationship style.
I do not think it is spiritually healthy...
I'm currently very much into the series Made in Abyss and I'm very obsessed with it's main villain. It's platonic, but dangerously close to stepping into romantic territory. Also, he is a VERY problematic character who is villainous because he thinks the ends justify the means. He is written to be evil. Yet I'm obsessed with him to an unhealty degree.
What should I do???
The only advice I can think of is limit your consumption of entertainment media and replace it with reading spiritual books; books about saints and virtue (I recommend C.S. Lewis and G.K. Chesterton for the latter). Reading their books eloquently written on the beauty of virtues will help you learn to be attracted to good character traits (and hopefully separate fact from fiction). That way, you let God shape your desires. I use to be obsessed with the TV show Friends, but as I kept studying about St. John Paul II’s Theology of the Body and learning how sex is best expressed in the loving confines of the sacrament of marriage, the less the show appealed to me because of how casually the characters get into bed with someone else without much second thought. I got so turn off with American TV shows for this very reason that I started opting for Japanese anime because romance there is much more reserved where a handholding actually means something more than a one-night stand.
In the case of being in a relationship to change someone, you have to understand that you have to let God change that person. Perhaps the reason why you’re attracted to a fictional villain is because you desire to do that in real life. No missionary dating; you just have to take people as they are and see if their values and virtues are complementary with yours. You have to respect people’s freewill and not try to control them.
There might be some other psychological issues on why you’re attracted to villains but it’s out of my expertise to comment on that so maybe some of my followers can comment.
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I neglected my worship for a while after getting into a new relationship but I’m excited to be back to regular worship. I better understand the differences between relationships TO ME (does not apply to everyone else’s understanding of relationships) now and I’d like to lay them out:
Romantic: a close relationship where you share a very human form of closeness and intimacy
Familial: a close relationship marked by feelings of obligation as well as love, entirely platonic
Platonic: can be close or distant, can be as close as any romantic relationship, but without the same intimacy of romance. There is a special feeling in romance you don’t get with a platonic relationship, but that doesn’t make either more or less good or whole.
Sexual: purely about physical intimacy
Spiritual: a deeper connection that may have an imbalance of power, with one being revered by the other. Seemingly beyond human intimacy, the intimacy of the soul and spirit. The relationship between a human and a tree can be spiritual. Between life and the landscape.
None of these relationships are better than the other. They are all different. They are all ways to love and ways to feel and be. My relationship with my parents is familial. My relationship with my girlfriend is romantic and sexual. My relationship with dionysus is spiritual and occasionally sexual. These distinctions help me to know how to show love in these different relationships.
#dionysus#hellenic polythiest#hellenic pagan#bacchus#witch#witchcraft#paganism#greek gods#helpol#hellenic gods#deity worship#devotional
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Hi! I'm new here (here being your blog, calendiles fandom, and also just...Buffyverse fandom in general? I haven't been here that long haha) and I finally got around to checking out your work on AO3 and uuuhhh you've written SO MUCH!!! So first of all, THAT'S AMAZING, GOOD JOB!! But second of all, I have no idea where to start reading... Can I maybe get like a rec from you of your top 5 faves? (Not fan faves, but YOUR faves, fics/series you're most proud of, etc.) Please and thank you :)
oh, wow, this is so sweet <333 hello! i have seen your fic in the buffyverse tag and lurked more than once there. expect some reviews at SOME point when my brain will allow me, because you are adding some excellent sapphic/nonbinary representation to the buffyverse in a very lovely way. i deeply appreciate your energy.
as for my top five faves -- i appreciate your specification that they have to be MY top five faves, because i really was about to just point to the braveryverse as smth that i think you personally might like. (not a single straight person, found family, etcetc). but my personal top five is a lil different than the stuff that's the most popular w/ fandom at large. (not by too much though.)
all of these range from "a little lengthy" to "novel-length" but i think they are worth it! and they are also all complete! (except for the first one on the list, which has a sequel in the works, but everything PUBLISHED is complete!)
1. never mind the years of wasted time
so this is my long-standing baby that i am blogging about all the time! it's so important to me! i cannot overemphasize how much this 'verse means to me. it's an improbable little everybody lives/nobody dies au set about three years after canon, and in my heart it does kind of stand as a spiritual follow-up to canon, in that the emotional place that giles starts the story is very much a continuation of the emotional place that he ends canon in. there are so many details within the main fic (what you make) that i cannot pack into a single summary (giles and jenny's eight-year-old son, who she left sunnydale to raise! giles and buffy trying to figure out how to reckon with the concept of giles being a parent to a kid that isn't her! jenny's adoring extended family! a subplot that is literally just all about how giles's parents met and fell in love! giles and jenny's individual baggage from their complicated parents and how that informed the decisions they made with each other and with/for the kids they were in charge of!) also it is impossible to read the fic and come away NOT loving art or alice or nora. nora is literally my url now because i tricked myself into loving her so hard by writing her all the time.
anyway yes! top of my list, this is the thing i am the most proudest of, it is literally novel-length and i have been considering learning book-binding just because i want the physical experience of making it into something that i can hold.
2. as day follows night
this is also long but um, less long? this is The Faith Fic. i don't really know how to talk about it without spoiling it (or if i've already talked about it and spoiled it, or if the tags will spoil it...) but suffice it to say that this fic is about faith right after killing the deputy mayor, and her decision to ally herself with an all-powerful witch. or more like "attach herself." like to the witch's skirts. and hang on while the witch drags her around trying to get her to let go. (this girl has some attachment issues). it's got fuffy it's got fairy tales it's got the force of platonic love being the most powerful force in the world <3 and i think it is the first long fic i ever wrote where i had an outline and a plot that made sense and consistent tone throughout!
3. the tale of princess imogen
FAIRYTALE CALENDILES WHAT MORE CAN I EVEN SAY??? also some background fuffy and tillow bc obviously! anyway this whole fic is about jenny the witch pining helplessly for giles the acting monarch and losing her mind a little when princess buffy lets it slip that he's in love with some dark-haired lady who's constantly hanging around the castle all the time. and then subsequently coming up with a Magic Plan to ruin his chances of ever being able to win this dark-haired lady over, because what if she's bad for the kingdom? what if she's just trying to grab at power? THIS IS FOR POLITICAL REASONS SHE IS VERY NORMAL.
4. illumination
this one is about giles and jenny both realizing that they share the experience of being closeted bisexual individuals in a het-passing relationship & subsequently figuring out how to process this. (so obviously chapter three is pegging. but it's THEMATICALLY IMPORTANT pegging. and if explicit stuff isn't your cup of tea, the first two chapters are totally sfw!)
5. private life
i am actually really proud of this one! this is set in season four and it's about xander walking in on giles kissing a man and having to reckon with a lot of complicated internalized biphobia. i love xander so much. of course he has to make this list. (and this is DEFINITELY the shortest fic on this list lmao.)
also honorable mentions to north star and it's the principle of the thing, which are the fics that i write when i'm not feeling like writing a Big Complicated Interlock-y project, so if you wanna read something of mine that will (uh, someday) be updated and is still in progress, that would be where to go right now until the what you make sequel shows up! north star is essentially a (mostly) scooby genfic that's set in season six where willow resurrects jenny to prove herself to giles, and it deals with the fallout of that. it's the principle of the thing is a super trope-y fic about giles and jenny getting green card married in the middle of season one because that's what you do when your workplace enemy might have to leave :) you propose marriage so he can't :) it's normal :) she's normal :) she's fine :) do not look her in the eye
#fic#calendiles#this list is constantly in flux re: what i am currently writing#but these are the projects i am the most proud of!#anyway this was fun and joyful and so sweet! hello! thank you for bringing some warm new positivity to this fandom <33
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