#my cat is not a girl cat or a she like - those are human concepts of gender. she's whatever she Is.
Text
If you need help practicing pronouns, try using the pronouns you struggle with on your pets!
Animals have very little understanding of pronouns and human gender. They won't care if you use he, it, she, xie, bun, literally whatever - they only care about you and their food. They'll be fine! However, your loved ones will appreciate your effort in using pronouns, and using them properly. It's a win-win situation!
#trans#transgender#lgbt#lgbtq#ftm#mtf#nonbinary#ally advice#and honestly it's you learning more about linguistics which directly benefits you as well!#my cat is not a girl cat or a she like - those are human concepts of gender. she's whatever she Is.#i'll call her a boy cat or a he/him or whatever like she doesn't fucking care#she barely cares when i call her name (which i KNOW she knows#(and like nobody but her vet even needs to know. which i do take her to the vet and she's healthy and i love her so so so so so much <<3)
840 notes
·
View notes
Note
https://twitter.com/parkjmwins/status/1782358915939774874
Idk whether you will even answer this ask or will block me but this is exactly why JK had similar concept pics like Jimin. Jikookers made it to be romantic while Fandom made it to a joke 'JK always copy Jimin' (ofcourse). I've seen you making multiple posts about Jikook concept pics being match is a proof of them being a couple when in reality Hybe don't even take permission of original artist before using their ideas for another. One hybe label just got into trouble for copying newjeans and according to CEO min heejin it was BANG SHIHYUK who wanted to copy newjeans to create a second version of them through illit. And guess what he made sure illit gets 10x more success than newjeans, a 2 day song was already charting in different charts including hot 100. The same bang shihyuk who ignored every bit of Jimin's success but shamelessly copied his ideas and visions of concept pics for another favorite member. He shamelessly asks staffs to copy original ideas of artists who created them and use them for a cheap version of the said artist, Newjeans and Jimin are just examples.
Was it JK's fault ? Not necessarily but unlike rookie Illit he had power and capability to make his own decisions and use his own visions instead of doing what he was asked to do by the staff (his words) but he didn't and sat comfortably while using another person's hardwork. If you still think those similarities were because they were couple then idk what to say because in that logic Newjeans girls and Illit girls are dating.
Talk about TikTok generation ask.
Linking me to a tweet that has zero actual information and/or proper discussion, just stating a fact that isn't necessarily even a fact. Ignoring the full picture (like y'all do when it comes to Jikook as well, btw).
And I also find it so so funny how you are basically hanging your all on something that a very problematic figure within the Kpop industry is claiming, all to try and deflect from despicable behaviour she's being accused of, including using and revealing private info of Hybe idols obtained in illegal and despicable manors, perhaps including having to do with certain private info leaking of certain BTS members (including the one person that you so vehemently claim to love and stand in defense of).
You think that by sending me this link you are proving something?
You say that you read through my posts. Well, obviously you've missed those many posts I've written explaining how JM and JK being a couple can be deducted not from one action or one behaviour alone, but the combination of many many actions or behaviours. A puzzle built of not 10 or 50 or 100 pieces, but one built of so many many more.
I find it funny how with everything that has been going on with JM and JK you guys are still at this.
We're back to JK copying JM.
Like seriously.
Like even if the whole NJ Illit thing was true there was some kind of a comparison to be made with these two men.
Like JK, who's album concept is 180 degrees different than JM's doesn't have stylists at his beck and call to create a concept that isn't a full on copy of JM's. Right down to the studs and colours and minutiae details of some of the outfits.
Like if he did copy JM, that same scorned poor JM (that's how you guys love to portray him, as a damsel in distress awaiting you to swoop in and save him) CHOSE to fly to NY to be with JK and spend Silver day there with him, travel with him multiple times and spend his entire 18 months in the army with that awful copy cat JK.
Your ask tells me that you have zero understanding in human interactions and relationships. JM saying time and time again, JOKING time and time again, about JK copying him, it's a tease but also something that he LOVES. How he inspires JK, how JK perceives him as his catalyst.
But this here, the photo concepts and the whole of JK's wardrobe while promoting, claiming it's all about copying JM is just bull crap. This was planned. And it was planned by the two of them. It's not a coincidence that JM happens to wear the bottom part of a two piece outfit months before JK wears the top part of the same exact outfit.
And if we are talking about copying, is it the concept he's copying or is he so far gone that he's literally copying down to the smallest of details?
Like seriously. You think that's about copying JM?
Or because it worked for JM so he thinks it will work for him? Literally same hairstyle rocking as JM had in Face? Cause why not use a concept that works? Seriously? JK's all "I should do this cause it worked for JM so it will work for me"?
Was that what he was thinking when he rocked a highlight of JM's hair colour over the years? That the colour works for JM so I should have a strand of that colour in my hair as well, copying his success? Is that the theory you're working with?
Or when JK wore the same jacket as JM on Valentines day, you know, in a clip that JM himself records and uploads, that JK also copying JM?
Babe, this isn't just about the concept pics either. And it's not just about Face and Seven or Golden. Wearing the actual same black leather or leather-like pants just because he couldn't find any other pants? That level of copying? Or perhaps it wasn't about copying and more about mirroring.
About "You are me I am you", which they have been screaming at the top of their lungs for years now!!!
It amazes me how you have zero issue in taking an over decade long complex super close relationship (no matter how you perceive it they are super close) and simplifying it into "JK copied JM's concept because JM's concept worked for him", or to even compare whatever went on with JK and JM and those similarities to a claim made (by a disgruntled and caught red handed employee of Hybe) about one new GG copying concepts and whatever from a GG that's been around for 2 years now. No connection between them. No long term relationships between the groups. One group supposedly copying from another. Yeah, definitely the comparison needed to be made between that and Jikook's behaviours or decision making.
How infantile of you.
Oh and that paragraph of yours at the end. Laughable really.
Like I already said, go compare 2 GGs in two different companies to 2 men that have been close for over 10 years now. And let's also disregard the long history of those two doing the similar and same outfit (during official shoots, performances etc, or during their free time) thing and look at this one single concept.
Probably styled (funny how the styling seems to be similar for years now on many occasions, and just with the two of them)
Not styled.
These are just examples of MANY MORE instances.
Oh, and I suggest you go read this post too. Not mine, but recently written and oh so relevant to the conversation.
I can't help but wonder how different your pov would have been if one of those two young men was a female. Just thought I would throw that in here too.
But I gotta give you an A for persistence. You guys, you never give up, do you? No matter what JK and JM will throw at you, you will find a way to twist it around to fit your narratives. I guess you also think that JM was forced into enlistment with JK, ah? And their trips together and the content that will drop, also forced on him? I guess him saying otherwise isn't enough to convince you guys either, right? I love the way how you guys are so intrenched in your belief of victimhood that you don't even listen to what JM himself tells you. You love him so much that basically call him a liar. Good for yous I guess.
So, to clarify my answer to you, just in case it wasn't as clear as day already...
You do you, cause nothing I tell you, or show you, or you know what? Nothing that even JM himself will tell you or show you will satisfy you. Because you are living in a self built fantasy of what and who JM is and what and who those that surround him are, all to fit that narrative of yours in which he needs you guys as his saviours and knights in shining armour to swoop in and save him from the big bad JK.
One more thing.
JM's Face was a masterpiece.
We all agree on that. JK included.
He adores JM, he's his no. 1 fan and he's been showing us this throughout 2023.
JK is not a person that would callously copy a concept used by a bandmate just because it succeeded for his bandmate and might work for him too.
Let alone from JM.
His person.
Not even if, as you put it, he was told to do so by the powers at be (which yeah, he'd tell to go shove it up their asses if they ever did 'tell' him to do that btw, and they wouldn't do it anyway seeing that they know that would be his exact reaction).
So, no.
That is my answer to you.
Just a whole big fat NOPE.
No to copying. And surprisingly no to blocking you.
Yet.
171 notes
·
View notes
Text
the art of falling in love (part five)
natasha romanoff x fem reader
best friend!yelena belova, aroace!yelena belova, internalised homophobia, found family trope, coming of age, angst, fluff (eventual happy ending)
part one | part two | part three | part four | part five (16.3k words) | epilogue
read this fic on ao3!
Death was first explained to you and Yelena when you were six; Yelena’s favourite of her mother’s pigs passed away, and you were both called in from playing outside to be sat down gravely.
“Girls… Wilbur the piggy has, ah, passed away,” Alexi told you. You stared back at him blankly.
“Do you know what that means?” added Melina more gently.
“Uh… Peter from class said his mom and dad passed away,” Yelena offered after a few moments. “And it means that, like, he can’t see them ever again, so he lives with his aunt now.”
“Yes!” said Alexi enthusiastically, before catching himself and adding in a much more solemn tone, “I mean, ah, yes… very sad. Not good.”
Melina looked at him sternly and he fell silent. “You are right, Yelena. When someone passes away, it means they are no longer with us.”
“Like when you go to the store?”
“No. When I go to the store I am always coming back, да? Passing away is permanent, and it means you never see them again.”
“Oh. But I like Wilbur,” said Yelena sadly, and you nodded in agreement.
“That is what makes life all the more precious,” Melina told you gently. “You never know when someone may pass away — only that everybody will, someday. So you must enjoy the time you have with them, my darlings, and never take it for granted.”
As the years went on and the two of you began to understand what death actually means, that first introduction to it became somewhat of a running joke between you and Yelena (because how else can humans deal with such a terrifying concept as death? You can choose to either laugh or cry, and Yelena will always choose to laugh); the idea of someone passing away will often be referred to as going to the store. For example, Alexi is probably the sole man responsible for the entirety of Ohio state’s roadkill — neither you nor Yelena can remember a car journey with him in the wheel during which some unfortunate creature has not stumbled into his path and suffered fatally for that mistake. Every time it happens, without fail, Yelena will turn around eagerly in her seat or poke her head out of the window and assess the damage before gravely announcing, “That one is definitely not coming back from store.”
It’s a euphemism that can be used in any situation — and often is, actually. Whenever the TV signal packs up (as it often does in such a rural town as your own) and the Kardashians begin to cut out awkwardly, Yelena will throw down the remote and shout in frustration “Ma! The fork thingy on the roof has gone store again,” and Melina will know exactly what she means. Or whenever your history teacher Mr Fury hobbles into class, who is so old he looks like he’s witnessed half the events he teaches you, Yelena will nudge you and whisper “he is close to store’s doorstep now, eh?” Et cetera, et cetera. The phrase gets used often.
You feel silly for your mind wandering to those words, given the circumstances. But all you can think of right now is your overwhelming hopes and prayers that Liho has not gone to the store — and that neither has your bond with Yelena. As for Natasha… well, recent times have been a cruel wake-up call.
It’s been a few hours since Melina left with the cat, and the only text you’ve gotten from her since then says cat in surgery now. Yelena has barricaded herself in your shared room — her room now, you think miserably to yourself. You have never, ever seen her so upset, not in your whole life. You don’t think you’ve ever even argued with her, outside of your usual half-hearted play wrestles. But now she’s shouted at you through your thick heavy door, a solid wall between you, putting miles between the two of you but still not enough distance to lessen the brutality of the words she hurls at you from the other side of it. Words you can’t think of for too long or tears will begin to brim in your eyes all over again. Words which you know you deserve, but ones you never thought you’d hear your best friend say to you.
Now you sit uncomfortably stiff on the couch, feeling like a stranger in the home you’ve grown up in, the silence threatening to suffocate you. You feel almost like a prisoner in your body, unable to move as you relieve the last few hours over and over in your head. There’s no doubt in your mind that Yelena is right. You are an awful person. If you weren’t, if you were better, maybe Natasha would still want you, instead of casting you aside once you began to bore her. Maybe if you were better you’d have been sensible or strong enough to not sneak around with her at all. But you’re not, and now you’ve broken apart a family you weren’t even worthy of in the first place.
Natasha is sat in the armchair opposite you, legs curled beneath her, nursing her bloody nose. Her gaze has been fixed on you for the indeterminable amount of time you’ve both been sat here, but you are too exhausted to care. For once, you have much, much bigger problems than her feelings.
Eventually, she speaks, more subdued than usual. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Your voice doesn’t sound like yours. It’s somewhere else, someone else’s, far away.
“For…” She hesitates. Like there’s something she doesn’t want to say out loud. “For not, uh. For treating you badly.”
Well, that’s not really what you expected her to say.
Your silence prompts her to flounder further. “I just— I don’t, well, I can’t really explain a lot, but I— I know I messed up. You deserved better. And I’m sorry.”
And you’re so done with her, and so little of yourself is left now that you simply stand up and walk away.
Natasha doesn’t even call after you, just kind of makes this sad and defeated little noise that makes your heart hurt. You know it would just ache even more if you turned around again, though. So you don’t. You walk the hall for a few aimless moments before your feet carry you to the only person currently home who you still have a dependable relationship with — Alexi.
His workshop, as he calls it, is adjoined to the kitchen; a tiny wooden door which he has to bend himself double to fit through, leading to the garage. This has been his space for as long as you can remember. You have no idea how he moves with such ease through it when it’s like a maze to you — huge chunks of greasy half-repaired machinery everywhere, cluttered workbenches and racks of tools and shelves of liquids labelled in his indecipherable Russian scrawl. He often has the tiny tin portable perched on a shelf squeaking out radio shows in his mothertongue which he guffaws merrily at, but as you enter now the room is peacefully quiet, save for Alexi’s disjointed hums of a thousand songs in one and the little chink noises the piece of metal he’s working on makes every time he hits it, slowly bending it into shape.
“Ah, привет! Good evening, daughter,” he says cheerfully, without even turning around as you creep up barefoot behind him. He doesn’t say anything more, and neither do you, for a while; you opt to simply sink down onto one of the wooden stools littered about the place and watch Alexi absently while he works. This doesn’t faze him at all. On the occasions where Yelena was busy without you as a kid, you would do this very thing. Alexi would simply chuckle at you and ruffle your hair with a large bearish hand, oftentimes leaving behind little smudges of black motor oil in it. You’re still in your prom outfit, though, with your hair done up intricately, so tonight he stops himself in time.
“Do you think Liho will be okay?” you ask after a while, in a very small voice.
“Oh, да,” he replies, without hesitation. Even with his back to you as he tinkers busily you can hear the sincerity in his tone. “Yes, yes. Think of what that kitty has been through already, eh? When you found him he was doing worse than that. He is, uh, tough meat. A fighter.”
Seeing Alexi so placid and unshaken in the face of tonight’s events is strangely calming and you nod, soothed by his words, before another thought strikes you. “Oh… but the vet bills.”
Alexi lets out a low but not unkind laugh. “Ah, не будь глупым, you worry so much. We will figure those out. Melina is a sly fox, has money tucked away in hidey-holes, eh?”
“But— I mean —” You twitch uncomfortably, and Alexi seems to finally cotton onto what it is that you’re really worried about. He sets down his tools with his usual gentleness, which never fails to look foreign on such a giant of a man, and turns to look at you.
“You are member of this family,” he tells you. “No matter what Yelena say. She is angry, sure, but it will blow over, eh? You love the silly little fur man, and we do too. So if these bills will help him of course we will pay it. There is no need for worry.”
“But I ruined everything,” you say quietly.
He laughs again. “Nonsense. You have not ruined any of the things, голубка.”
“But… your date night. And— Natasha,” you hiccup.
“We have date nights all the time, подсолнух, there will be others. And Natasha… well, me and your mama are knowing this for long time. Yelena will be coming round also, eventually. We will figure this all out, we are a family. She is your sister. All of the things will be okay. None of them are ruined.”
And you can’t help but cry at that, at his earnest sincerity, his certainty that things will work out — and because you love him, and he is your family. You tell him so through choked sobs, and he just looks at you softly before wrapping you into a petrol-scented bear hug, prom outfit be damned.
Maybe he’s right. Maybe everything will be okay.
Yelena sinks into another episode over the following days. She does nothing much but sit, a vacant look in her eyes, devoid of any feeling, and stare for hours at a time as though seeing something that the rest of you cannot. She has no words left to give, and drifts around on autopilot, only performing basic functional tasks when prompted to — as if they’re an afterthought. Seeing her like this wracks you with guilt in a way none of her episodes have before, because for the first time you know with a crushing certainty that this is because of you. You offer countless times to return to your parents’ house across the road, the residents of which you haven’t conversed with in months, but Alexi and Melina dismiss this as if it’s the silliest idea in the world.
“You are family,” Melina tells you firmly. “Fights happen, да? You stay.”
Even if you’re still welcome in the house you’re certainly not welcome in your usual room. Natasha offers to put you up in hers but drops this very quickly after the look that you give her, so instead a section of the loft is cleared for you. You and Alexi spend a merry Sunday together in his workshop assembling a bedframe for your new space, only to discover once you’ve made it upstairs that it’s actually too large to fit through the attic hatch, so you have to take it to bits to get it up there and then rebuild it all over again. (It doesn’t really matter though, because Alexi is so bemused by the whole thing and his own oversights that it’s impossible to be frustrated at the setback. He just grins so goofily.) When Yelena is in the shower you sneak back into her room to gather as many of your belongings as you can and begin to turn the little space into yours. Melina brings home some fairy lights from the store, you order some posters online and within a week or so you’ve organised yourself a very cozy nest amongst the mess of the loft.
Even now you’ve moved in, over half of the room is still piled high with boxes of various things and piles of junk and the distinct, cloth-draped, dust-gathering shapes of Alexi’s abandoned projects (which he insists on keeping on the basis that he might need them someday, much to Melina’s theatrical chagrin). The various artefacts throughout the room create a kind of ever-changing maze, and you remember playing up here with Yelena when the two of you were kids and it was too cold to play outside — for you, anyway, being someone who’s grown up in a relatively warm American state. To this day Yelena often scorns you for your inability to tolerate any kind of cold, and reminds you of the climates the rest of the family has lived in.
Thinking of her makes your heart involuntarily twinge, and you wince, standing from your perch on the end of your new bed in the vain hopes of shaking it off. As you do so something in the opposite corner of the room catches your eye; the neat pile of scrapbooks Melina worked on for years when you were kids. “I’m going full American mama,” she would quip, spending hours of an evening painstakingly prettying the pages laden with pictures that Alexi had taken throughout the day. You find yourself warmed by these memories, and drift over to the pile of books, settling before it. The newest scrapbooks are naturally at the top, so you shuffle through the pile until you reach the very first scrapbook Mama Melina ever made, which begins the day Yelena came home. You settle down comfortably on the floor, cross-legged like you’re a kid again, and begin to flip through its pages; the very first are adorned with pictures of Melina and Alexi in their youth, and then on their wedding day. After that is the day Yelena came home, absolutely unfazed by this strange new country and its drawling people. Every single photo has the date it was taken written beneath it in perfect cursive, and through the timeline shown you can see that it was barely two weeks into Yelena’s residency here before you and her properly met, and became firm friends. Things progress like that for two years, from when you were five until when you were seven; regular entries are made in the scrapbooks documenting road trips and school plays and lost teeth, all of which you smile upon fondly.
Halfway through the third scrapbook, Natasha comes home. You recognise one of the many pictures documenting this milestone as one that hangs large and framed with pride downstairs above the fire; a stunned, still blue-haired Natalia swathed in thermals, huddled in the corner of Alexi’s rickety old fighter jet on the journey back from the motherland, beaming widely up at whoever’s taking the photo. Despite the fact that you see it every day, seeing it alongside so many others in which she’s so bewildered but so, so happy makes your heart feel so strongly that you have to flip ahead.
You pore over the pages of the main scrapbooks with interest for a while longer, until the main timeline ends and divulges into you, Yelena and Natasha each having your own dedicated scrapbooks. You have no interest in studying your own baby photos, and given all that’s going on reliving Yelena’s would be unbearable right now, so instead you find yourself picking up Natasha’s, and pushing the others aside.
Seeing her grow up before your eyes like this is surreal. In reality you were by her side every day, and most of these changes happen so gradually that you barely even noticed them, but here are immortalised stills from throughout the years which show how she’s grown. When she first came home she hadn’t had her growth spurt yet, and still had her gentle Russian lilt which the rest of her family retains to this day. As she starts attending public school and socialising with her peers you can see that something changes very hastily within her; a light kind of fades from her eyes. The blue is bleached from her hair, and as the red fades back in its place she seems to fade a little too — into the quiet, observant Natasha that you know today. She doesn’t seem unhappy, as such, but… uncertain, and it dredges up a kind of sadness in your chest that forces you to push the book away, lest the tears in your eyes follow through with their threat to overspill.
You’ve always seen Natasha as someone so secure and sure of herself — so much so that she doesn’t feel the need to speak over anyone else in the room in order to get her opinions across. When she does speak it’s usually a quick, cutting remark that earns laughs and leaves everyone eager to hear more out of her. When she walks into a room heads turn to look at her, no matter where she goes. She knows that. She’s someone worth paying attention to. It’s never occurred to you, not once in your life, that her behaviours aren’t the result of something different. But looking at these pictures has stirred up something in you which you can’t quite describe. A deep sadness at the fact that you’ve probably never known her at all, aside from the parts of the real her that have slipped through the cracks; her Russian accent and sleepy kisses first thing in the morning, her goodnight texts, the way she doesn’t need to ask your order at drive-thrus or coffee shops, the notes she’d leave under your pillow. That’s Natasha. Not whoever this is who’s pushed you away. Not this girl who has bleached the childhood from her hair and taught herself how to be from another place.
You pile the scrapbooks back in the neat and tidy order in which you found them and crawl back to your bed, flopping into it, utterly emotionally exhausted by this trip down memory lane. You think it’s dark outside… you’re certainly tired enough to rest now, anyway, and you do; drifting in and out of an uneasy slumber, visited by vague and twisted recollections from your childhood which disappear upon your waking again, before you can grasp them properly, like the sand of your youth slipping through your fingers.
Mama Melina is a woman of science. She’s always considered herself a grounded person. She doesn’t concern herself with what she doesn’t understand, or care for (namely whatever she cannot see for certain with her own two eyes) to the extent that this is the path her career has taken, and is now what feeds her children. She is, objectively, an intellectual woman. Her analytical methods of thinking have led to scientific breakthroughs in her area of expertise, and she is renowned as an expert at her job. She did not reach this point through belief in the spiritual, or abstract. Hell, being raised in an orphanage herself, she didn’t even really believe in true romantic love until Alexi bore his whole earnest heart to her.
One day, when you were young, you came home from school and, with frightening nonchalance, came home and asked if one of your classmates had been correct in saying that people who kissed others of the same gender were hell-headed sinners. Melina abruptly halted her mundane household task and sat you down, taking one of your hands in hers.
“Sin is a fairytale,” she told you, as delicately as she could. “Nobody knows for certain whether sin or God or heaven or hell are real. To believe that is a choice, a leap of faith which certain people make. But all we know for certain is what’s here now, да? Like I am real, you are real,” she cupped your little face between her warm hands and squeezed gently, making you wrinkle your nose and wriggle happily, “Baba and Yelena are real. But sin is thing you choose to believe in. It is made up stories to make us feel better about death but it does not matter, малыш. What matters is what we do now, when we are alive, not what we do to secure a place in an afterlife that might not exist, eh? We are kind to each other now while we live because we know it to be true that we’re alive. To tell someone else who to kiss was wrong and unkind of that boy at school. Worry about the afterlife once you get there, да? If you want to kiss girls, kiss girls. No one who is kind or worth your time will care.”
She kissed the top of your head before standing back up and returning to her cleaning. No more words were exchanged on the prospect, but from that day onward it has appeared to be common knowledge in the household that you like girls, and that Melina is not a fan of religion justifying bigotry.
In all honesty, she is not a fan of anything that’s not an irrefutable truth. Science is her preferred method of explanation for any problem that may occur. But as her relationship with Alexi has blossomed, and then in turn the ones she shares with her daughters too, she’s learned that facts and feelings do not have to be mutually exclusive. Some of the complexities of the human mind are far beyond her understanding, or indeed any of us — and yet this is a truth which ought to be embraced, not feared. The greatest joys in Melina’s life are its mysteries.
And so Mama Melina has never questioned the dynamic you and Natasha share; at least to her, it’s seemed crystal clear since day one that the two of you harbour affections for one another — admittedly for reasons beyond her comprehension, but it’s nonetheless undeniable to anyone who knows you like she does. She’s watched you grow all of your lives, delicately inching closer to one another like two flowers craning their necks to reach the sun. Melina long ago accepted she’ll never in this lifetime know what higher power reigns as a puppeteer over her, or understand the complexities of love, but she knows better than to pretend as if some things in this world aren’t inexplicably and cosmically connected. You and Natasha only prove this point. If she looks hard enough, Melina can see the red thread that runs from your body to her daughter’s.
Alexi, by far the romantic, wholeheartedly agrees with her, which only furthers Melina’s convictions (he would know better than her, she reasons) — although admittedly the events of the last few months have blindsided the both of them. Melina appears to be more concerned by it than her husband, though; so much so that one night she actually sits him down to ask if he even knows what’s going on, and why there’s this big gaping gulf between her daughters, tearing her family apart.
Alexi just guffaws, so full of mirth that Melina is startled. “Ah Боже мой, my love. Do not be silly, I would have to be blind to miss those daggers over dinner, no? No, do not worry, I’m understand. But love is not easy, ah? Its course has never run so smooth. Remember when I first asked out you? You were so… skittish, like little kitten, for weeks,” he recalls with shining eyes. “And look where we ended up now, ah? These are silly babies. They’ll make mistakes. They need the time that you did.”
His words soothe her, in the way that they always do. She relaxes into his comforting embrace with the knowledge that even if she’s the intellectual (and financial) breadwinner in this relationship, Alexi always knows what to say in the face of the heart’s unpredictability. Maybe he is right. Maybe everyone just needs some time.
So, despite her doubts, time is what Melina gives.
Two weeks after that conversation, Liho comes home. His fur is patchy where it’s been shorn off and started to grow back again, and one of his legs is still bound tightly, but he’s back and he’s yours. He leaps happily into your arms when he sees you (despite the yelp of alarm Melina makes) and it’s like he never left. Yelena comes the closest to you that she’s been in weeks to pet his head while he’s curled up against your chest, and she even allows a smile to escape. You can’t help but smile back, like the beginning of spring after a long harsh winter, hope blossoming in your chest once again.
In the time that it’s taken him to come home, other things have happened too. Natasha’s nose, displaced by the punch Yelena successfully laid on her, heals quickly. Your relationship does not. Something unspoken festers between the two of you, hardening and shrinking and blackening into a sickening nothingness. You can’t look at her now without the taste of something bitter filling your mouth — and yet that boiling hot liquid rage still fills your chest when you think of her with someone else. How is it possible to love someone so much but hate them at the same time? You wish, more than anything, that none of this happened. You wish she would just let you love her without having to ruin it for the both of you.
It’s such an indescribably lonely feeling that the two of you are like this now, when only a short time ago the two of you bore open hearts to one another — well, you gave yours to Natasha, anyway. The more you think about it the less of her you have ever known. She’s a stranger to you. Quite a few times since prom night she’s tried to speak to you — offering another half-assed apology, no doubt — but you’ve only ever shut her down. What is there left to say? Nothing that you want to hear, for sure.
(And maybe the things that still hang heavy in the air between you are better left unsaid.)
A few days after Liho comes home you’re laid on your bed in the attic, with your baby boy himself curled comfortably on your chest, purring away merrily as you scratch at his head. There’s some soft music on in the background but neither of you are really doing much. You’re just trying to enjoy his company, (and he’s evidently enjoying yours,) now that you know not to take it for granted.
The scare you’ve had with him has shifted your perspective on a lot, actually — it’s been a rude but much-needed wake up call. Yelena, just like Liho, is your family, and you want to make up with her. Who knows how long either of you have left, or what might happen?
Yes, you absolutely want to be her sister again. You’re just not sure where to even start.
The knock that comes at your door is unexpected, though, and only more unexpected when you see who your mystery visitor actually is. Yelena stands in your doorway, eyes fixed on Liho on your chest. He mews happily when he sees her.
“Кот,” she says hoarsely, holding out her arms and making grabby hands. You blink, stunned for a moment at the fact that she is talking at all, let alone talking to you. This would usually be a good sign, one that she’s coming back into herself, but these naturally are unprecedented circumstances, and you can’t really be certain what anything means anymore.
Yelena steps forward, jerking you out of your trance; you shoot to your feet and kiss Liho on the forehead before holding him out to her with your hands beneath his armpits so that his legs dangle underneath him, rendering him comically long and thin. Lena scoops him up and curls him against her chest; he purrs contentedly and her eyes crinkle in quiet gratitude before she leaves, humming her song to herself.
You almost call out to her, but your body freezes. The door closes behind her you scold yourself for not reaching out, for trying to close this rift between you, but maybe you’ve not given her long enough yet.
What Yelena needs is time, you know. Her whole world has been turned upside down and she has to rebuild it piece by piece. But how much time is enough?
Well, as it turns out, you won’t have to wait much longer.
It’s the last week of school, just over five weeks now since your catastrophic prom night, and you’ve just walked out of your last final. Sam Wilson is waiting for you outside the doors with your favourite flavour of popsicle in his hand, and is already busily consuming his own. When he spots you he waves a broad hand merrily, and you make your way over to him.
“I’m sure you aced it, squirt,” he says before you can even open your mouth, and offers you the popsicle. Unfortunately you’re all too familiar to Ohio’s stifling summer air, making every thought or movement damp and groggy. You accept it gratefully.
Your core friendship group, which you’ve been in for years now, has been pretty turbulent since things went down between you and Yelena. Pairing that with finals and early graduations, you can feel a permanent shift occurring, and it’s frightening. Everyone’s still making effort to maintain contact with you, but this change on top of everything else has you feeling like you’re drowning when you think too long about it. It seems like you never know what are the golden days until they’re gone. (You got twelve golden years with Yelena, but is that where it ends? Will she ever tolerate your presence in her life again?)
Someone who you couldn’t be more grateful for throughout all of this is Sam. One day not long after everything happened you came to him crying, and confessed everything. He patted your back with an aura of awkward concern until your sobs subsided, at which point all he had to offer was, “Huh. Well, I guess that explains why prom night went to shit.”
You can’t help but admire the way that he takes everything in his stride. Nothing fazes him. It’s welcome after spending so long around Natasha, who’s constantly on edge, worried someone else might see her with you. Sam is so unbothered, just being in his presence is calming. He’s become a good and valued friend to you.
“That was your last final,” he reminds you, bringing you back to the present moment. “You’re free now for the whole summer.”
“Oh fuck yeah, man,” you say as the realisation dawns on you.
“How’d you want to celebrate?”
You look up at him and a toothy grin takes root on his face as he realises what you’re about to say.
“Arcade,” you say and he nods fervently in agreement. In recent times you’ve become its most loyal patrons; you retreat there often after classes, whether it’s to recuperate from a bad day or celebrate a good one. Today, thankfully, appears to be the latter.
“Arcade,” he repeats happily, and the two of you amble off out of the school gates and down the hill toward the centre of town, where the Boulevard housing the arcade is located. You chat happily for a little while, about your plans for the summer and what you might do together.
“And, uh… any updates on your… anything?” he asks delicately. It’s a vague question but of course you know what he means.
“Not really.” You deflate a little. “I’m not sure Lena wants me around anymore, to be honest.”
“I’m sure she does,” Sam consoles with a startling certainty. “Seriously. What about Natasha?”
You just shake your head. “I don’t want to… I can’t. Not until Lena…”
“Gives you the okay,” he nods understandingly.
“Yeah, I guess. But until she’s sorry, too. She was really mean,” you say quietly.
“Yeah, I get that. It’ll be okay, man.”
You’re not so sure about that, but before you can express this you cross the road and the two of you have reached the arcade, where your troubles are promptly forgotten.
Sam’s words are very quickly proven correct, though — within only a few hours. You arrive home from your arcade trip with some silly winnings tucked under your arm and a smile on your face. It is Friday night, date night for Melina and Alexi, so a car is missing from the driveway and the kitchen is empty as you enter.
Perfect, you think to yourself, and begin to fix yourself some food. These days you’re very careful not to venture into the communal areas of the house unless you’re sure you won’t be treading on anyone else’s toes. You kind of feel like a burden as it is — you’re not a proper part of this family anyway, not in the way that everyone else is — and you don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable in their own home. So you’ve moved bedrooms and now you meticulously strategise what times you’ll make an expedition down to the kitchen. (Sometimes, when you’ve not had a chance to eat yet, you’ll open your bedroom door to a plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of you. Everyone in the house denies knowledge when asked but you have your suspicions of who’s behind it.)
Sometimes you think about moving back to the place where you were born, but you’re not sure if you could stomach that. That feels like a forever choice. There’s no going back from that.
Liho pads up to you, excited that you’re home and even more excited that you’re making food. Unable to help yourself, you indulge him with some chin scratches and scraps. Life’s too short, you say. Why shouldn’t you make a fuss of your boy?
He winds himself around your legs contentedly while you cook. It is just you and him and school has finished and you have the whole summer to do what you want, and you are cooking, and for the first time in a while you are able to shut off and experience a moment of complete peace.
Naturally, with the trajectory of your life at the minute, this peace does not last long.
“Is Sam Wilson your new best friend?” says a cool voice behind you. You actually yelp in alarm, and very ungracefully fumble with the piping hot utensils you’re using, burning your hand in the process. Liho hisses, and you do too, making a beeline for the sink.
“Don’t sneak up on me like that,” you mutter half-heartedly. Yelena, now moving to stand fully in the light, just makes a noise in the back of her throat as she opens the cupboard above your head and reaches for the first-aid kit. Her face is carefully unbothered.
“I only asked a question,” she says, moving your food off of the heat. Liho claws at your ankles worriedly. You struggle to process Yelena’s words, much less the fact that she is talking to you. Did you blink and miss a chapter?
“Uh,” you rub at the back of your neck with your hand not under running water, “n-no. No, he’s not my new best friend. I don’t,” your voice drops, and you look away, “I don’t think I have one anymore.”
“You do,” she informs you matter-of-factly, hopping up onto the counter beside you and swinging her legs while you continue to bathe your hand. “If you still want one. But she is very mad at you.”
Your voice catches in your throat.
“She does love you,” Lena continues, “but she is wondering why you did things in the way you did.”
There’s a moment of quiet. You gather your thoughts. You weren’t expecting to have this talk tonight.
“I was scared,” you tell her.
“Of what?”
“Of,” you gesture between the two of you, “this. Of making things bad. I always figured it would be like a,” you tilt your head back to keep from crying, because now would be a stupid time to cry, “a stupid schoolgirl crush, you know? She never even spoke to me, I was just her little sister’s dumb best friend, but then things happened and it was so fast and I was so scared. And I wanted to tell you but she… didn’t. She only wanted me when no one else could see. I guess I hoped that she would — come around, eventually, and then I wouldn’t be lying anymore.” You’re heaving with the effort to not cry. “I was wrong.”
“All this time the mystery girl was treating you like shit, you could have told me who it was,” Yelena implores. “I love my sister but she makes me sad also. She can be a dick, absolutely. She’s the worst. Why wouldn’t you tell me?”
“She’s your family,” you choke. “I couldn’t cause a— a rift or a problem like that. And what if you believed her over me? And it kept getting worse, and —”
“Сестра,” she leans over, cupping your damp face between her hands and forcing you to look at her, “I would always believe you. Always. Never before have you given reason to not.”
You nod tearfully, and she lets go. The only noise is the running water for a few moments.
“That is probably long enough under tap,” Lena murmurs, turning it off and taking your injured hand in her lap. Opening the first aid kit, she begins to dress the burn. “I am sorry for making you jump.”
“I am sorry for everything else,” you reply honestly. “I was stupid.”
“Yes,” she agrees bluntly. Then, “Natalia was stupider.” When you look up in open surprise, she rolls her eyes. “Close your mouth, you will catch flies. Of course she was stupid, she has fumbled so hard. You,” she pinches your cheek affectionately, “are a catch. I am not even into all of this, but if I was a dater we would be together and I would treat you like four million times better than she does.”
“You already do,” you say quietly, looking down at your hand in her lap as she continues to bandage it.
“Oh absolutely, I am the best.”
Another, much longer, pause. She finishes wrapping your hand, and pats it three times to notify you that she’s done, the exact same way that Mama Melina does. The action makes your heart swell and eyes fill with unexpected tears.
“Do you know why I was so upset by all of it?” she asks unexpectedly. You blink in surprise. This feels like a trick question.
“Because… I lied?”
“Because you picked Natasha over me,” she tells you.
“No I didn’t— what?”
“Yes, you did,” she says, and she’s a little choked all of a sudden. “All of my life Natasha has been the one who everyone looks at first. She is the special one. You are the only one I had first, who was mine. My близнец. And then I find out that for months you have been lying and picking her over me instead. When she is mean, she is so mean sometimes, yes I love her but she is not much like when we were kids anymore, she is so mean. But everyone likes her more than me. Even you.” She turns away.
“No, no I don’t,” you rush to her side, unable to help it now, scooping her close to you. “No I don’t. I was wrong, and I’m sorry. It was stupid to think she’d ever love me, I shouldn’t have— and I shouldn’t have left you out of it. I think I was trying to protect you? I don’t know. You’re always the one to protect me and punch everyone else, I think I was trying to stop you from getting hurt. And her? But it was dumb. Very dumb.”
“Very, very dumb,” Yelena agrees.
“The dumbest.”
“You have broken world record, кролик.”
You laugh a little tearfully, and while Yelena’s arms are wrapped around you she feels it throughout her body. She revels in the feeling of you holding her and loving her again, after the longest time.
“So we are back from the store?” she asks hopefully after a moment. It takes you a moment to process what she means.
“Oh,” you laugh, “we were never there. You will always be my favourite person, Yelena Belova-Shostakov.”
“Okay.” She exhales in relief. “Good. Just, because — well, you know, we have not spoke in so long and you didn’t think you had a best friend, and—”
“No— what? No,” you frown, “that was me giving you space to process and heal. I wasn’t sure you’d want me back,” you laugh. “I wasn’t ignoring you. I promise.”
“I will always want you back,” she says in a small, content voice. “I will always want you home. With me. Not at store.”
“Not at the store,” you repeat.
And just like that, you have your best friend again.
One familial bond repaired doesn’t mean all of them, though — and Yelena’s relationship with her sister has been patchy recently, to put it mildly. In your eyes it’s a plus that they haven’t outright fistfought in the way that they absolutely would if they were any younger, but Mama Melina doesn’t seem to see things that way.
A few days after you and Yelena make up, the two of you along with your parents are sat around the dinner table. At the very least Melina is able to fuss over her twins again, and Alexi is able to once again boom “here comes trouble” whenever the two of you enter a room together. They both take great pleasure in it, much to Yelena’s entertainment and your endearment. You love your parents.
The conversation halts when the front door slams, though. Natasha appears in the kitchen doorway for a second before processing the scene in front of her and slowly backing away, back out of sight.
“What is this about?” Alexi calls after her through a mouthful of food. “Come eat, love.”
There is no response, only footsteps on the stairs.
“Our daughters hate each other,” Melina sighs heavily. When you and Yelena look up at her, she clarifies, “no, not you two. You and Natasha.” She pinches Lena’s cheek.
“We do not hate each other,” Yelena says placidly, much to everyone’s surprise. “I am just angry at her. We will be fine.”
Natasha, who is still within earshot at the top of the stairs, feels her heart skip a beat at this and thinks to herself that just maybe Yelena is ready to be receptive to her attempts at reconnection. Her only issue is she has no idea how to facilitate it. She’s done all the things she can think of, aside from straight up cornering her younger sister — she leaves offerings of food at her door and texts her when the Kardashians are on the TV — but all of it has been treated with nonchalance that’s left her bewildered as to what her next step should be.
Yelena’s got her covered, though.
It’s her turn to strike, she knows, and again she chooses to do it when her sister will least expect it. Nat traipses home late one night, exhausted from cheer practice that overran. (Their next game is the last of the season, and her last cheer match ever considering she’s graduating this summer, so this semester’s team captain Sharon is determined they go out with a bang — even if that bang is a cheerleader toppling from the pyramid out of sheer exhaustion.) She mumbles her greetings and goodnights to Melina and Alexi, who are huddled around a decanter of whiskey in the study with Liho, and stumbles upstairs. All the lights are off up here, and she figures you and Yelena are probably settling down for the night. With a long, wistful look up the spiral staircase towards your firmly closed door, she trudges into her own (pitch-black) room. When she flicks on the light, though, she shrieks in horror. Sat expectantly at the foot of her bed is a long-limbed and blonde-headed figure, with hands folded neatly in its lap.
“Good evening, сестра,” greets the figure, sometimes known as Yelena Belova, with vaguely ominous nonchalance.
Natasha leans back against the door and closes her eyes in a desperate attempt to revert her heart rate to normal. Her first instinct as an older sister is to yell at her to get the fuck out, but in light of recent events this probably wouldn’t be the wisest of choices. Instead, she clamps her mouth tightly shut as she attempts to regain herself.
“I don’t,” she pants after a moment, “I haven’t— what? Hi. What?”
“You should really get a better lock,” Yelena says amusedly. “Very easy to pick.”
“You don’t have to break in,” Natasha grumbles, letting her bag slide to the floor and flopping backwards onto the bed. “Just knock.”
“No fun.” Yelena pokes Nat’s thigh with her toe just like she would when they were kids and for a moment they’re both young again. But she blinks, and the moment is gone, and now they’re two almost-adults with an entire universe between them.
Natasha just groans and flops back to stare up at her ceiling. A few years back you and Yelena helped her paint it blue and now it looks like the sky. It makes her smile when she’s sad sometimes. Yelena joins her, and the two cloudgaze for a moment.
“Why are you in my room?” Natasha asks quietly.
“To annoy you,” Lena quips.
“Success.”
“And to talk,” she continues.
“Also success. We are talking.”
The blonde lunges for her, and Natasha rolls away playfully. “No, I’m serious. Real talking.”
“Alright, I’m all ears.” Nat puts her hands behind her ears and pushes them forward to emphasise her point — again, like they would when they were kids.
“I want to know what you were intending when you started dating Y/N,” Yelena says, and Nat’s stomach drops. She knew this was coming, she knew this was where the conversation would lead, but she was still hoping to stall it for as long as possible just for the joy that her sister is talking to her again. The excitement is short-lived, though.
“We were never dating,” she reminds her quietly.
“Why not?”
The bluntness of the question makes Natasha stop short.
“Because it just, didn’t work out like that, I guess,” she tries. Yelena remains eerily stony.
“It’s not nice to lie to your baby sister, Natalia.”
Natasha deflates. “Because w— because I’m a fucking idiot. I don’t know what you want me to say. I know I messed up.”
“Step one is awareness,” Yelena nods sagely, while Nat grits her teeth. “So what are you going to do about it?”
She shrugs. “Graduate, and leave town, I guess. You and Y/N are twins again now, and I caused all these problems, so once I leave things should be fixed.”
“Untrue and false,” the blonde interrupts sharply. “That is lie. Y/N/N is crushed. This will not magically be fix if you take off for college.”
“But it will help,” Natasha insists.
“No it won’t,” Yelena pinches the bridge of her nose in frustration, “oh my god, how are you so stupid. She is in love with you, and she is so patient with you, she is not even angry. Which I would be, by the way, but she’s not. She’s only sure you don’t want her.”
“Huh? But I do.”
“No, like wanting her,” Yelena says gently. “As a whole. Like… unity, ah? Влюбленный. She feels so not good enough for you, and every day you are prove her right. You take only what you want from her and leave the rest. That is not what love is. She feels not loved by you, and that you only like her for the things she can offer you.”
“Oh. But I didn’t mean to,” Natasha says tearfully. Suddenly she is very small, and she draws her knees up to her chest. “I was only… Lena, маленький, I didn’t know what to do.”
“The answer seems pretty simple,” the blonde observes astutely, “all you had to do was either tell her you love her and want to be with her, or tell her it is over. You can’t keep having things in your way forever. She has feelings too, and the relationship cannot be on just your terms. She is not a doll, or toy.”
“I do,” she says hoarsely. “I do, t- the first one. It’s- I do. But I’m so…” She raises a pale trembling palm to run a hand through her hair, inhaling shakily, and with a blink of surprise Yelena realised how scared her older sister truly is.
“What is so terrifying?” she asks tenderly.
“Y/N is a girl.”
Yelena almost laughs at the confession but is able to refrain, and is proud of her capability to do so upon seeing just how agitated her company is over the subject. “Is this all that holds you back? Nobody would care. Ma and Daddy wouldn’t. This is not end of the world.”
“No, you don’t get it,” says Natasha fiercely. “Ever since I came to America... you were here first, you and Y/N, and you just get to be you. You have who you are. But I don’t know who I am, so I have to — do all the American girl things. I have to fit in. I don’t have a Y/N. And American girls don’t kiss girls.”
Yelena stops to consider this. It’s true that Natasha has always put far, far more effort into fitting in and Westernising herself more than she or their parents ever did. Yelena is perfectly content with her slightly broken English and her raspy accent and her life of in-betweenness. She’s okay with being from two places. To her, when she looks in the mirror, that is Yelena Belova. They’re just parts of who she is. She’s never even stopped to consider those as potential insecurities — not when she had other things and feelings (or lack thereof) to worry about. How could something so unchangeable be a source of doubt? And yet here she now sits, struggling to wrap her head around this invisible binary which has suffocated her sister for so many years.
“But you are not… what?” she says confusedly. “You did have a Y/N. All of this… you’re being someone else. I knew something felt strange. I do not understand why? I like who you are before. It wasn’t bad. I like Natalia.”
This seems to break Nat, who buries her face in her hands. Yelena lets out a motherly cluck of sympathy and scoots closer to loop a gangly arm around her sister.
“I just want to be normal,” breathes Natasha.
“But it is not worth all this,” Yelena says, squeezing her sister tightly to her chest. “What does normal even mean? Being cool is not the most important, Natalia. Everybody liking you doesn’t… fix you not liking yourself.” She cringes at her own words, reminding herself a little too much of Darcy’s Pinterest feed, but the words seem to ring true with Nat, at least.
“I am just so scared,” Nat says in a small voice. “And I think I’ve made this so bad it can’t be fixed.”
Yelena pulls away to look her sternly in the eyes. “Things can always be fixed. Maybe not in ideal way you want them to be, but we can always make amends. But you have to be sorry.”
“I am,” Natasha cries, “I am sorry.”
Yelena holds her. “I know.”
She’s not so sure you know it, though.
Maybe somewhere deep down, you do. You see it in the saddened smiles Nat offers you whenever she steps out of your way or leaves a room so you can use it. You see it in the way she brings your favourite snacks home and leaves them in the pantry without word or question, like she doesn’t even expect you to notice. You see it even in the absence of her; in the way that she gives you space, quietly leaving rooms when you enter them so you can use them despite the fact that you can feel in the air how much she wants to stop and talk to you. Sure, you can tell that she’s sorry. But you’re not sure that she knows what she’s sorry for.
You’re not sure she knows how badly she’s really hurt you, with her every move stabbing into you repeatedly over a course of months. Now that the knife is turned on her and she’s the one in exile, a selfish part of you wants to leave her there, just so she knows what it’s like. You guess that’s kind of what you’re doing now. You know this can’t go on forever though. In a couple of months Natasha leaves for out-of-state college, which she announced over dinner a few nights ago. You had to excuse yourself from the table to process that information. Your time is limited, you know, and it’s clear what Natasha wants (to kiss and make up) — but what do you want? To leave this wound untreated, festering for the next eternity? Or to allow yourself peace and let this go?
“Why do I have to be the bigger person?” you half-heartedly complain to Yelena one night as the two of you wash the dishes. “It’s not fair.”
“Because you are the bigger person,” Yelena laughs. “Natalia has given you the control. The next move is on you. That’s just the way it is, if it’s fair or no.” She whips you playfully with her tea towel, and the conversation moves on without further incident.
The issue plays on your mind long after the words are spoken, though. Whether you like it or not, Yelena is right. The next move’s on you. But how are you meant to make that call? What is the right move to make?
Well, one of Natasha’s friends appears very opinionated on the subject.
On a particularly warm afternoon, you and Yelena stroll into town, and stop off at May Parker’s ice cream parlour — the best in town.
“Ah,” Yelena grimaces, as you draw close to its glass windows, “it is so busy in there. I go in, you wait out here?”
You smile at her gratefully, and she disappears inside.
“Y/L/N!” a voice calls out behind you, and you turn around to see Bucky Barnes making a beeline for you. He’s about twice your size in every way imaginable, and you gulp.
“Hi?” you say uncertainly. You don’t think you’ve ever spoken to him in your life.
“What’s up with you and Romanov?” Well, he’s straight to the point.
You flounder, mouth opening and shutting, and he’s gracious enough to continue, “look, I know you and her are a thing. Were. I don’t know, she’s being so weird about it. It’s okay, it’s okay, I was her beard. And she was mine,” he adds, gesturing over at Steve Rogers, who’s stood on the other side of the road waiting patiently for his boyfriend. He smiles and waves amiably on cue.
You blink. “And no one thought to inform me?”
He shrugs. “Not my place. I think it is my place, though, to ask what’s got her so torn up. You and her fallen out? I’ve never seen her like this. I’on know what to do.”
He may not mean it menacingly, but he’s towering over you and you’re finding it hard to breathe. “She was an asshole, dude,” you say, perhaps a little more defensively than you envisioned. “She wasn’t nice to me and we weren’t even together, because she didn’t see me like that. So yeah, I guess we fell out.”
He frowns, deeply, and takes a moment to process this. “Oh. That… but she does feel that way about you.”
“It’d be nice if she’d show it,” you say bitterly.
His face softens. “Maybe… Look, even if the two of you don’t work it out proper, wouldn’t it be easier to at least clear the air? She likes you so much. She just wants you in her life, I think.”
You look at him uncertainly for a moment, but he holds your gaze earnestly. You know him and Natasha are relatively close, and you don’t see why he’d lie about something like this. It’s definitely tempting to believe.
“Okay,” you say, “I’ll bear that in mind.”
He looks like he’s about to say something else, but you feel a hand on your shoulder and instantly recognise Yelena’s presence just behind you. “What is going on?”
“Just talking,” says Bucky smoothly, but it seems apparent that the moment is over. “See you around, kid.” He crosses the road back to Steve.
“Kid,” you mutter, “he’s one grade older than me.”
“What did he want?” Yelena asks you, and you relay your strange interaction to her. “Oh. Well, he is probably right, but I’m not sure how much it means coming from Natasha’s ex.”
“Were they really together?” you ask, your stomach turning at the thought. Wouldn’t that co-occur with your and her relationship? “He said he was her beard.”
She shrugs. “Not my expertise. Come on, the ice cream will melt.”
You don’t see Bucky Barnes again for the weeks that follow, although you can’t help but wonder what he meant, and what he was trying to achieve. (And a little part inside of you thinks that maybe he could be right.)
“Ma?” says Natasha suddenly. “How did you know you loved Alexi?”
It’s late at night, and the two of them are on the car ride home from Nat’s last cheer game of the season. (At her request it was not a family affair, despite Alexi’s insistence that it was his right to make a fuss of his talented daughter’s performance at her last high school cheer game.) The roads are empty and the towns are sleepy, but Natasha’s question has Melina wide awake.
“Eeh… it was not like a revelation. I did not wake up one day with new clarity. It came to me over time. It took me long time to accept, though. Your father is very patient man.”
“But was there anything specific?” Natasha persists.
Melina purses her lips in thought. “Well, when I met him I was not trusting person. One time when we were in the kind of in between bit right before being proper couple, ah —”
“The talking stage,” Nat supplies helpfully.
“— yes, да. We were in that, nothing proper but something, and he went to touch me and I had a… panic? I shut down. Achh, моя любовь, I was still figuring out who I was and what I did and didn’t like and… still growing up and healing from when I was kid. I was scared.”
Natasha nods solemnly. There are some childhood experiences which, despite unspoken, bind she and her mother at the soul.
“So I freak out, and I expected him to… belittle or leave, or something. But he stays and he is so patient, he apologise for making me jump and fetch me tea, and I thought like wow, he is so gentle. And he is not like the other men I known.”
Again, Natasha nods. Gentle is the perfect descriptor for her father. He’s the most wonderful man she’s ever met.
“So we spent more time together, he was patient with me and always caring. That was the time that I knew I would fall in love with him. But I’m not really know when it happened. Maybe by then it already had, ah? I have only ever had eyes for him. He make me feel… valued, and worthy.”
Natasha just hums in response, for she’s suddenly and embarrassingly on the verge of violent sobbing. She blames Ma and Baba and their beautiful relationship. Nothing else.
“Is this about Y/N?” Melina asks quietly. Natasha opens her mouth to reply and there it is, just as she feared, the waterworks are unleashed. Ma sighs heavily and pulls over.
“Идите сюда,” she says, holding her arms out, and Natasha crawls into them. She rocks her daughter back and forth, exactly how she used to so many years ago when the girl was half this size, while Nat’s face is buried in her mother’s neck. They stay like that for a while, until Natasha’s tears begin to die down.
“Do you want to go and get milkshakes?” Melina breaks the silence. Natasha hums her assent.
The 24-hour diner isn’t far from where they’ve pulled over, and it’s almost empty at this time of night. With no words exchanged Melina orders Natasha’s usual, or what was her usual when she was a kid — a strawberry milkshake and fries. A young Natasha decided strawberry was her favourite as soon as she found out that pink was a girl’s colour. Thinking about that now, especially with the hindsight of her conversation with Yelena, has her stomach turning a little. How long has she been letting her view of the world colour every single choice that she makes? Which parts of her are really her, and which are the ones she’s willed into existence?
It’s a scary line of questioning, and Natasha can feel herself beginning to spiral. No more, she tells herself. Yelena was probably right about needing to get to know herself — and learning her real favourite flavour of milkshake seems a manageable starting point.
“Can I have the caramel one?” she asks Melina gruffly, pointing at the menu. Her mama just nods and alters their order accordingly.
They sit at their usual booth and eat in a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the occasional “pass the ketchup”s. Once they’ve finished, though, and Melina can sense her daughter has calmed enough to leave, she turns and says to her, “Love isn’t easy thing to admit. But it’s… not something to be ashamed of. When it comes, just let it happen. It’s scary, but it does not make you weaker, ah? It will do you no good to push it away.” She hesitates, but then seems satisfied with what she’s said. She turns on her heel and heads back out to the car. Natasha, dumbfounded, follows her.
When they finally make it home, Alexi is snoring away upstairs and you’re on the sofa with Yelena sprawled on top of you, fast asleep. You’re wide awake, though, and look up as the two of them come in.
“Night, ma,” Natasha murmurs to her mother, kissing her cheek before tiptoeing off to bed. Melina hums at the action and pads into the living room toward her twins.
“Hi ma,” you chirp, voice a little husky. “Everything okay?”
Your mama nods, and holds out a brown paper bag. “We stopped at diner. Got your favourite. Some for Lena too.”
Your eyes crinkle up into half-moons as you smile at her in gratitude, and Melina smiles back fondly, her chest filling with warmth. “Thank you.”
She kisses Yelena’s forehead, who does not stir, and then yours, lingering for a moment.
“I love you,” she tells you sincerely, and a fierceness glimmers in her gaze that you’re not quite sure what to do with. “We all do.”
“I love you too,” you tell her honestly. You only hope you’re matching her intensity. She holds your gaze for a moment longer as if searching for something within it, then nods, seemingly satisfied, and retreats upstairs to join Alexi, leaving you alone with a meal to demolish, a slumbering blonde pinning you to the sofa and many, many thoughts.
A few days after that conversation, you wander into the backyard (Melina’s carefully pruned pride and joy) to pet Liho, who’s basking peacefully in the summer evening sun.
“Careful of the flowerbed,” you warn as he flexes his claws and kicks his legs happily. “Someone will suffer if Ma’s roses are ruined.”
He huffs in what could be agreement, and you toe absently at the sandy dirt you and Yelena used to play in.
A gentle creaking sounds from somewhere nearby. It’s a noise that makes you feel ten years younger, and curiously, you rise to your feet.
At the far end of the backyard, nestled among the pines and pratia, is the swing set Alexi built a little while after Yelena first moved in. It’s a little haggard-looking, as when Natasha came to America Alexi bodged a third swing so all of you could play together, but to his credit it’s still held up all these years. Sure, it doesn’t get so much use anymore, but sometimes when one of you is feeling a little down you’ll revisit the simpler times of your childhood.
This seems to be what you’ve stumbled upon Natasha doing now. She’s sat on the middle swing (which in times gone by was your swing, as the middle spot often was when you were a kid, so both siblings got to be next to you), rocking back and forth gently as she cradles something small in her hands, turning it over. She’s lost in thought. Wondering if you’ve intruded on something private, you begin to slowly pace away. When you catch sight of what it is in her hands, though, your stomach turns; a small and glistening pink rock, rubbed smooth by years of love.
“You kept that?” you ask quietly. Natasha’s head shoots up and she takes note of your appearance in the same way that a deer takes note of rapidly approaching headlights. Her mouth opens as she fumbles for words, but she just settles for nodding vigorously before lowering her gaze to her lap again.
You don’t really know what to think, or do. You hesitate for a moment, and find yourself thinking of Bucky’s advice — wouldn’t it be easier to clear the air? This tension is suffocating. With this on your mind, you seem to surprise Natasha as much as yourself when your feet march you over to the swing on your left, and your knees bend to seat you. Her entire body tenses as yours nears her. You can tell that, since you’ve gone to great lengths to escape her company recently, this is the last thing she expected. (In all honesty you weren’t really expecting this either. What now?)
“You know that I’m in love with you, right?” Natasha says suddenly, and you freeze. Your chest tightens, and it’s like she’s wrapped herself around it, claiming your breath as her own.
“That’s not funny,” you reply in a small voice. “Don’t— don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Play with me like that.”
Her stomach lurches. “I’m being serious.”
You’re quiet for a moment. “Were you and Bucky ever actually together?”
“What?”
“Bucky Barnes. Were you with him when you were with me, too?”
“N- no,” she says with vehement certainty. “I was — well, I guess it doesn’t really matter now, but when him and Steve were a secret I was his cover story. And I guess he was mine, so that I could… yeah.” She gestures towards you, pressing her lips together.
“But even after they came out I was still a secret.”
“I—” Natasha says, and buries her face in her hands for a moment, because this is not how she hoped this would go. “Yes. And that was wrong of me. I’m sorry. I think I was trying to protect you, and me, and you from me because I know how messy I can be, and I wanted you so bad but I didn’t want to drag you down with me. And I still did anyway.” She sighs heavily.
“That’s an interesting way of showing affection,” you quip.
“I know,” she says quietly. “And I’m sorry. I know I haven’t shown it well — at all — and I don’t really blame you for not believing me. Or, uh, hating me.”
“I don’t hate you,” you say softly.
Her shoulders sag. “Oh. W— well that’s good, then.”
“But I wish I did,” you add.
“No, yeah. That’s fair.”
“You’re really mean.”
Natasha just nods.
“And it’s even worse because I can’t even hate you because you can also be really nice.”
She nods again uncertainly. She’s not really sure how to respond to that.
“Why?”
“What?”
“Why are you so mean sometimes?”
This makes her stop up short. The way that both you and Yelena never fail to cut to the chase or ask the questions that nobody else would will always catch her off guard. “It’s kind of just who I am,” she begins, but at the way your face scrunches she adds, “or who I’ve decided to be, anyway. I don’t really know. I’m not sure… who I am.” Even uttering the statement aloud is a weight lifted from her shoulders. “It’s scary. I guess I… I thought that, like, I have to be the mean one, or someone else will first. To me. You know?”
“Why would anyone be mean to you?”
“Because I like girls,” she says truthfully, and there’s a tremor to her voice.. “And I’m not from here.”
You stare at her. “…? I like girls, and Yelena isn’t from here. No one is mean to us for it.”
“Because Yelena can and will beat the shit out of anyone that tries something,” Nat snorts. “But I just… I don’t know. It’s different for me.” You nod encouragingly and she adds with reluctance, “I don’t— belong here, not really. Or anywhere. I’m too American to be Russian and too Russian to be American. Ma and Baba and Yelena have it figured out, they’re just both and themselves and they don’t even have to think about it. But that’s not so easy for me.”
“Maybe,” you say carefully, “it’s to do with the people you choose to surround yourselves with. Is it possible that you’re… spending time with the wrong people? If you’re made to feel as though these things make you lesser.”
She shrugs. “Probably. But that doesn’t change the fact that I just… I really don’t have a lot going for me. So I kinda pretend that I do, and then it gets out of hand and I’ve convinced myself that I’m a lot more interesting than I am, to the point that I don’t know who me is. And I get all freaked out. And I’m so scared I kind of just shut off and try not to think, so I guess I’m just an asshole instead. Like it’s a reflex, you know? But it’s not really me. Nothing is me. My entire life is one perpetual identity crisis.” She drops her gaze to toe at the ground.
Your swing comes to a still as you clasp one of her hands between both of yours. They’re warm and perfectly manicured, and her eyes light up at the contact. “You don’t have to know who you are. You just have to exist, and you find out. I’m learning things about myself all the time, and so is Lena. This was my first relationship —” Nat’s stomach drops at the use of the word was “— and I’ve learnt a lot about myself and how I like to be treated. And Lena only came to terms with being aroace this year. Even Ma only just decided she’s demi,” you point out, and Nat can’t help but smile at this. (A little while ago, after Yelena first came out, you and Melina began joining her in attending weekly meetings at the local youth centre for young queer people and their parents. Your mama was determined to be a more educated advocate for her three queer daughters. Very recently, with all this new terminology at her disposal, she dropped into a dinnertime conversation in the presence of the whole family that she thinks she’s demi. “Not that it matters,” she added, “the only one for me is your father,” and she kissed his beaming crinkly cheek with a motherly tenderness. It was a beautiful moment to witness, despite Yelena’s playful booing.)
“I guess,” she says quietly. “Um, I’ve been talking to someone. Professional,” she adds at the look on your face. “Yelena said some stuff that made me realise I probably shouldn’t sort through this alone.”
“Yes, you shouldn’t,” you nod. Natasha raises an eyebrow at your ready agreement. “It’s not something to be ashamed of. Lena sees someone. I do too.”
She blinks. “Really?”
“Yes,” you laugh, “Baba takes me every other Thursday. I have horrible abandonment issues. I guess after everything that’s happened, I’ve kinda internalised some stuff.”
“I definitely took advantage of that,” Nat says guiltily. “I’m sorry. Honestly, I am.”
You look at her. “I know.” Your hand squeezes hers before letting go and she instantly aches to feel it again. “I’m sorry, too. For not… I don’t know, setting more boundaries. Or being more forceful.”
“No, no, it wasn’t your fault.”
You hum, and the two of you sit in silence for a long while as the sun begins to retire.
“You know,” you say suddenly, “you don’t have to move across the country. You can if you want, obviously, it’s your call, but if it’s just because of me… you don’t have to.”
“But-? I’m trying to give you space? To heal,” she says confusedly, and you laugh.
“And it’s very sweet, but I don’t need that much space. I’ve already forgiven you.”
Natasha’s soul leaves her body. “You— huh?”
“I have,” you laugh kindly. “I did some of my own thinking, and I just… I don’t know. I don’t think you need me being mad at you, on top of everything else going on in here.” You tap at her temple gently to emphasise your point, and she shivers. “And I don’t think I need that either. I don’t want to carry that with me.”
“Okay,” Natasha breathes. “T— thank you.”
You wrinkle your nose at her affectionately. “You’re silly.”
She’s awash with the overwhelming need to kiss you, and instead twitches a little, digging her nails into her palm. You take in the movement with such wide-eyed concern that she has to close her eyes for a moment, because she’s almost ill with how much she feels for you. This feeling only grows more intense as you continue.
“I know we’re… whatever we are, but… if there’s anything I can do for you, let me know,” you say more quietly. “I know you’ve been through some stuff, and even when you’re seeing someone for it it can get overwhelming. I do care about you.”
She nods, and swallows thickly. “ I don’t— I— uhm. What does this make us?”
You can hear her hopes heavy on her tongue, and your heart is like lead. “Friends?” you offer. “I— I don’t think we should be anything else, right now.”
Natasha nods, and swallows thickly. With it she swallows back the words but I love you. It must be written across her face, though, because you cup it between your hands (which really isn’t helping her self-restraint at all).
“I love you,” you tell her honestly. “And I always have. But love isn’t… you don’t… I don’t know. That kind of love is something that you earn, I think. And we both need to take care of ourselves.”
“I understand.” Natasha’s voice is hoarse, and barely above a whisper. “And I want you to feel like I respect your decision. But I also want you to feel like I’m serious. About you. And I will prove it if I have to.”
Against your own better judgement, you smile at her.
One thing about Natasha Romanoff is that she’s not a quitter.
Some would say it’s an endearing quality. More would probably tell her it’s the reason she finds herself in so many messes in the first place. What’s objectively certain is that she’s a stubborn little shit — and and with this determination she’s decided she’s going to win you back. Your slight encouragement, no matter how vague, is enough fuel for a fire that could simmer for months.
It starts as chocolates, and flowers. At this point she seems to have cottoned onto the fact that you’re not one for big, theatrical confessions of love, but rather consistent affirmations of it. Actions, not words, she’s heard you say (although now more than ever before she’s seeing for herself what you mean). So there’s no four-act sonnet recitals when you receive her gifts — although you don’t really receive them at all, in the traditional sense. Rather they seem to begin popping up everywhere you go. At one point you open your locker to a bouquet so over-endowed that flowers begin to tumble out onto the floor. Sam steps neatly to the side and watches with glee as you scramble to clean the mess. (He’s most definitely enjoying watching all of this play out.)
Your favourite of all these surprise gifts is probably one delivered by your own four-legged Cupid himself. Liho headbutts the door to your room open and stalks in with a scowl on his face and something attached to his collar. As soon as you remove it to inspect it he rolls onto his back and looks up at you expectantly, clearly expecting compensation for this favour.
“Yes, you’re a very handsome boy,” you tell him distractedly, using one hand to rub his belly while you attempt to unfurl the note he’s delivered with the other. Yelena lets out a noise of amusement. She’s perched on your bed with the Kardashians paused on her laptop in favour of watching this play out instead.
“You are so ungraceful,” she comments mildly, making no move to help you.
“I love how you always see the best in me,” you reply through gritted teeth.
After a moment, you manage to succeed in your task. I picked these for you :), the letter reads. You glance over at Liho’s collar again to see a tiny bunch of forget-me-nots, only slightly battered from their journey and bound neatly by brown twine.
“Another gift from the mystery girl?” Yelena teases, and you groan.
“Okay, saying mystery girl is officially banned. It’s giving me war flashbacks.”
“And that is fair,” your sister muses, getting to her feet to inspect your latest delivery. After she’s done she sits back on her heels. “You don’t have to keep turning her down, you know.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if it’s just because of me. You have my… blessing, or whatever. But on the condition that you’re not gross about it.” She rolls her eyes, and nudges your cheek with her nose. You squirm good-naturedly.
“Why thank you, your Grace.”
“Yes, I’m the graceful one,” she preens.
“Sure,” you snort, and she smirks. “Um, thank you, though. That’s good to know. I guess I’m still… figuring it out, but she’s growing on me again.” And it’s true. You have your reservations now, but she’s trying to remind you why you first fell for her (and yeah, she might be succeeding). Part of you wonders if she’s turning on the superficiality again, but after she spilled her guts to you on the swing set you’re trying to have faith that she really is turning a new leaf, and charming you authentically.
Yelena considers this. “Yes, okay. This makes sense. Remember to tell me if she tries anything again though. I will put them up.” She raises her fists and you giggle, but you know she’s at least partially serious. She’s very athletic in her own right and people at school go out of their way to avoid crossing her. That’s how you’ve stayed out of trouble your whole life — by standing behind Yelena and letting her handle it instead. Where you hesitate, she dives right in. You adore that about her, though.
“Do you know what you’ll do once she’s out of state?” Lena asks, and you shrug.
“Figure it out as we go, I guess. I don’t know if she’ll lose interest in me.”
The blonde looks up fiercely. “If she does that I will stick them up.”
You beam at her, admittedly less for the violence and more for the sentiment behind it. She beams back for reasons more ambiguous.
“Do you know what we will do?” Yelena queries. Upon your frown she elaborates, “next year when it is our turn to pick college. You and me, what will we do?”
“Pick the same one, and both get in because we’re super smart, and we’ll be roommates. And you can make us mac and cheese every night,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
She contemplates this.
“Okay,” she says, seemingly satisfied with your answer. “Can we hit play now? I want to know what’s happen to Kim’s diamond earring.”
“Two cookies say she gets it back.”
“Two cookies say eat my ass the way a fish ate her earring,” she retorts, and the two of you settle on the bed again. (You have two more cookies than usual after dinner.)
Despite the witticism you take Yelena’s blessing with pride, and it means a lot more to you than you let on. Now that every single member of your family has shown their support for your relationship you can’t help but feel a slight ray of hope, the likes of which you thought had been stomped out long ago. Never before have you dared to imagine a situation where you could actually have a shot with the girl of your dreams, who you’ve wanted for as long as you can remember — and yet here you are, with her putting her back out working overtime to win you over, and your family watching with interest. Every morning you wake up a little warmer to the idea of letting this happen.
That doesn’t mean Natasha’s out of the woods yet, though, and you’re careful to make this clear to her. She senses your hesitance, and completely understands its presence. She’ll wait for you as long as it takes. (She’s genuinely stunned at how forgiving you have been of her, in all honesty.) In fact she takes your reluctances in her stride in a way that actually has you feeling more for her — but again, you know better than to repeat your mistakes of the past, and so you take this as slowly as you can considering she’s coming on strong and you live under the same roof.
Three months of summer lie ahead of you, stretching out like an endless expanse of sunset-tinted possibility. You and Yelena manage to land jobs at the video store in town — Yelena goes blazing into the interview and makes it clear as she can that the two of you are a package deal. Wong, the guy who runs the place, just seems grateful for the help.
The store becomes somewhat of a hangout spot for the two of you, who work the same hours and are joined at the hip like always, and it’s a safe bet to stop by if anyone wants to find you. Sam often swings by to playfully irritate the both of you, since the marina where his parents’ boat is docked is just round the corner, and Natasha will meet you when you’re closing to take you out for dinner after. (Sometimes Yelena tags along to these meals, and gleefully revels in the awkwardness her presence causes.) Since you and Yelena are twins again too, things are looking up for your friendship group and they’ve taken to visiting also. You’re delighted to spend time with them again. (Seeing Makkari’s face light up when she steps into the Deaf & Subtitled section of the store makes your whole week.)
In fact, word seems to have gotten out about the fact that Wong’s employed you, because one sleepy Tuesday afternoon Bucky Barnes drops by to rent a DVD. He picks one at random, not even glancing at the cover, and as you scan it through for him he says to you lowly, “thank you for making Natasha happy again. She cares so much about you.” He offers you a genuine smile before heading out abruptly and almost forgetting his DVD in the process. (You suspect his purchase was a mere means to talk to you.) It’s a strange interaction, but decidedly more pleasant than your last with him, so you take it no further.
Another perk of having this job is that you have your own money now. You’re not really sure what to do with it at first; the only thing that occurs to you is that you want to get a gift for Natasha. At the end of the summer is her graduation — she’ll walk and wear the square hat and everything, and you’re very excited to embarrass her with photos of the event — and after that she’ll leave for college. Her graduation is the perfect time to present her with said gift, you decide.
You know you want the gift to be meaningful, but you’re not really sure of the specifics. Luckily for you, one night on the roof with Natasha is all you need for the inspiration to strike.
Can’t sleep, you text her one night, after hours of fruitless tossing and turning.
She replies immediately.
Me neither
Come down to my room :)
If you want to!!! she adds after a moment, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. She is adorable.
Omw, you tell her, rolling out of bed.
The door is unlocked!!!!!! just come in
You follow her instructions and slip inside. The room is cosily lit, with her fairy lights on and her little lamp shaped like Calcifer flickering merrily; the bed is unmade, as if someone’s been in it recently, but Natasha herself is nowhere to be seen.
“Nat?” you call out uncertainly, and squeak in surprise when her head pops through the window. She smiles softly at your reaction.
“I’m out here,” she tells you. “C’mon, there’s space for both of us.” She wriggles along her perch on the flat row of tiles of the roof, and pats the empty spot beside her. Antics like this don’t faze you after twelve years of friendship with Yelena. You clamber out beside her readily.
“Hi,” says Natasha a little bashfully, once you’re settled. You lean up to peck her lips and she flushes. “Y— yeah. Um, hi.”
“Hi,” you reply sweetly. “It’s nice out here.”
“It is,” she agrees, her gaze not straying from you. You take no notice, though; your sights are set to the heavens. No matter how much you snipe about how annoying it is to live in a small town, the views still take your breath away. The stars shimmer bright above you, as they do almost every night. They’re not the only beautiful sight your town has to offer; Wanda adores the rocky hills at the edge of town, where many scavengers like squirrels and raccoons have made their home (one boy in your grade, Peter Quill, has befriended one of the raccoons and affectionately named him ‘Rocket’. He visits Rocket every day after lunch with his leftovers from the cafeteria). Occasionally she’s able to convince everyone in your group to accompany her hiking there. Despite your grumbling, it does make for an enjoyable day out.
“I come out here when I can’t sleep,” she tells you quietly.
“I sit on the roof sometimes,” you reply, and you beam at each other. It’s true — you do, but sharing the information feels vulnerable. You’ve figured out how to hoist yourself up through the skylight in the loft and onto the utmost point of the house, but it’s an activity you’ve kept as your own for now. While you adore more than anything being twins with Yelena, and living your life with her, you’re also learning how to exist by yourself for the first time in your life, and enjoying having your own space. Your little corner in the attic has afforded you many freedoms, and not just material ones.
“You see the moon?” Nat asks. The planet in question hangs round and heavy over the horizon, not quite full.
“How could I miss her?” She’s the most beautiful thing in sight.
“You know the difference between waxing and waning?” Natasha prompts, and you shake your head, solely because you love when she talks about her passions. “Waxing is when the moon transitions from a new moon to a full moon — so she fills out. See, that’s what she’s doing now.”
“She’s nearly full,” you remark quietly.
“Yup.” She grins. “Now when she’s waxing, she fills in from the right side — so she kinda looks like a C.” She makes a C shape with her left hand and holds it up against the sky to confirm that, yes, while the moon is waxing it vaguely resembles the letter. “But soon she’ll start to wane — maybe next week? After the full moon. Waning is the transition from the full moon back to the new moon, so she shrinks away into nothing. She’s eaten away from the left side, so she looks like a reverse C.” Nat makes a C shape with her right hand this time, so that it’s reversed, and holds it up to compare to the moon. They don’t match up right now, but they’ll get there someday.
“This is my favourite period though,” she confesses, her voice dropping a little lower, “of the lunar cycle. When the moon is waxing.”
“Why?”
“Because it feels,” she hesitates. “I don’t know. It feels like gross to say out loud but it kinda just feels like, encouraging. Things are always changing. They won’t be like this forever, you know? The cycle keeps on repeating itself.”
“The cycle keeps on repeating itself,” you repeat, and she smiles at you.
“Yeah. You don’t think it’s… dumb? I don’t know, I’ve never brought anyone else up here. I —”
“I don’t think that at all,” you tell her, and she kisses you gently.
The next day you go out and buy a crescent moon necklace.
Natasha has been coming into your room more and more often lately, and you don’t trust yourself to not leave it lying around in plain sight, so one day while she’s out you enlist Alexi’s help to loosen one of the floorboards in the attic so you can stash things under it inconspicuously.
“It’s not for anything suspicious,” you tell him quickly, “you can look under it whenever you want. It’s just to hide gifts and —”
“Relax, sunflower,” he chuckles, “you are entitled to your secrets.”
The necklace stays hidden there until summer draws to a close.
The weeks fly by in a golden haze and before you know it, you’re getting ready for Natasha’s graduation.
Alexi is stood on the landing in his smartest suit, and flexing proudly in the mirror on the wall. “It still fits!” he booms triumphantly.
“Don’t forget to wear your nice shirt, любовь,” Melina calls up the stairs to him. “No one with holes in.” He deflates a little, and retreats back into their bedroom to change.
“He looks fine,” Yelena scolds half-heartedly as she lumbers down the stairs, holding out her wrists to Melina. “Can you do my cufflinks?”
“Where’s your please?” Melina retorts, but she sets her clutch down so she can use both hands to help her daughter.
“We have to leave in ten minutes,” Natasha announces as she bursts from her own room. “Семья, I know what you are like, and we cannot be late.”
“Relax, love.” Alexi reemerges from the bedroom in a different shirt this time. “I will go and start the car,” he starts down the stairs, “and— oh.” He pauses as several buttons pop off his shirt simultaneously. “Ебать.” He turns around and subduedly makes his way back up the stairs.
“Baba,” Natasha groans. “This is what I mean.”
“Hey! I am nearly ready,” says Yelena indignantly, nodding at her mother in thanks for doing her cufflinks before ducking in front of the mirror. “Oh shit, where is my tie?”
“Language,” reprimands Melina.
“See?” Natasha sighs exasperatedly. “Y/N/N is the only one who’s ready.” She hurries down the stairs to where you’re stood in the hall, watching the scene unfold serenely. You’ve been ready to leave for the last ten minutes. She beams at you and pecks you on the cheek just shy of your lips. You flush, and the crescent moon necklace burns a hole in your pocket. Now isn’t the time, though.
Eventually, you all make it into the car, with everyone now sporting correctly-fitting outfits. As always on car journeys, you’re in the back, sandwiched in the middle between Natasha and Yelena. Lena scrolls through her phone disinterestedly, headphones in, while Natasha vibrates on your other side with anticipation and nerves. You take one of her hands between both of yours and she stills instantly.
“I am very proud of you,” you say quietly, “to have made it this far, with these grades. You’ve gotten into your dream college. You can do anything. Today will go fine.”
She doesn’t speak for fear of bawling and potentially ruining her eyeliner, so instead she rests her head on your shoulder in silent gratitude. She doesn’t move until you arrive, at which point she shows you all to your seats (front row, you note) and disappears to the backstage meeting point for all of the graduates.
The actual ceremony doesn’t begin for a while, so Melina converses with the other parents seated around her while Alexi nods politely, and you and Yelena compete in a thumb war. Eventually Principal Rambeau steps onto the stage and a silence settles on the gathered audience.
“Thank you all for attending,” she begins. “We’re here to celebrate our wonderful seniors, who have put in so much work to make it here today, and walk this stage.” She continues like that for a short while before they begin to call the students’ names, and they each walk across the stage in turn to claim their diploma. Natasha is a little later on the register, so you just sit back and enjoy the show — you’ve lived in this small town all your life, where most people know of each other, and so you recognise or even know the vast majority of the people who make their way across the stage. Some of them choose to make a memorable exit from their high school career (like Happy Hogan who chooses to breakdance his way across the stage, or Ned Leeds who walks proudly in a hot dog suit), whereas others take the more graceful route (see Valkyrie King, a prominent athlete of the school, who walks with confidence and regally basks in everyone’s recognition of her). When Natasha Romanova-Shostakov is called, she walks the stage a little bashfully, and with a blush accepts the cheers showered upon her after several years of being the cheer team’s star. You clap and shout louder than anyone else, and to Yelena’s glee capture several shots of her in her square graduate cap. Front row seat privilege.
After the presentations, the students flood into the crowd and people break off into little groups. The air hums with the joy of people laughing and congratulating and embracing one another. Natasha makes her way over to you and Yelena, who are stood now with your parents beside the refreshments. She brightens when she spots you, and is instantly by your side, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
“There is my girl!” Melina cheers. An outbreak of hugging ensues.
You mingle politely for a while with the other families milling around your own. Natasha appears intermittently, being the centre of attention today. Yelena is by your side (with her arm annoyingly resting on your shoulder to remind you that she’s taller) until one of her hockey friends pilfers her to show her something. In the few moments that you’re unaccompanied, Natasha resurfaces from the crowd, takes your arm and leads you somewhere a little quieter, and a little less visible to the masses.
“I just, um,” she realises she’s still holding your arm and lets go of it with a blush, “I wanted to thank you for being here. Like actually. It means a lot to me. I know— I know that in a couple of weeks I won’t be here properly, and it might make things weird, but —”
Now is the perfect time, you decide. As she continues to nervously ramble you pull the crescent moon necklace in its little velvet box from your pocket, and present it to her. She falls silent and looks at you.
“It’s for you,” you say unnecessarily, opening it to show her the treasure inside. Her eyes widen. “I— I want to do this with you. I want to give us a try. I like being with you.”
And as you clasp the delicate chain around her neck, and lean up to press a chaste kiss to her lips, Natasha understands. Love is something you earn.
She entwines your hand with hers, and together the two of you make your way back towards your family.
#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff x you#natasha romanoff x fem reader#natasha romanoff x female reader#natasha romanoff#natalia romanova#black widow#high school au#marvel high school au#mama melina paramore reference u get a cookie if u spot it
215 notes
·
View notes
Text
jellicle lineups; part 3/4
LETS GO PEOPLE!! LETS GO !! sorry for taking so long to get around to this one !
demeter | 🔒 🍰 🌇
DEETER
ive seen a lot of complaints about demeters design being toned down over the years so i decided to bring some of the bolder design choices back for mine. mullet demeter is REAL now ! honestly i couldve done more w/ their makeup but shhh its ok....
i tried to push the gold in their design by making the eyeshadow really obvious and giving them gold lips. enjoy their lacy dress too... i tried to design something which they could dance comfortably in
demeters newer 3 words (nervous, sensual, secretive) mean everything to me. love them so much. i think theyd be 29 in human years
bombalurina | 🌹 🍓 🛼
so i totally based her hair on that concept art for drag queen bomba. the bob is too cute ! i had a blast doing her design for the most part. i struggled w that makeup and the color of her dress but its ok.
i also tried to give her something she could dance in—just like. imagine the length of the dress a little shorter. im not going back and fixing it
i based her color palette/patterns directly on her concept art because tbh, i dont love blond/ginger bomba ! so black/white/red hair bomba it is
i think she would be 27 in human years
hysperia | 🪴 ⌚ 🍡
this is my version of exotica, renamed hysperia, because i do not love her og name. its not fun. the name hysperia is taken from an ensemble kitten character from the og london production
i also based her design on a multitude of things, asides from her 2 costumes in 98—like some nbq/greycat designs since i feel like that design not becoming a common ensemble character was a waste. A WASTE I TELL YOU! ive also based her fur length on warsaw victoria because oh my godddd that design is so good. peak
her neck bow is a nod to the 2019 movie... the macavity girls w/ those bow collars. they were onto something there
she would have a much more prominent role than the few times she cameo'd in 98, still retaining the elegant/shy personality she shows in the film. shed be 29 in human years
cassandra | 🪐 ♠️ 🥯
i originally made her makeup a lot closer to her replica designs but decided to go for something a little different based on a makeup look i saw on pinterest LOL. so like. enjoy her slight earthy gothic vibes. i also didnt struggled too much on her outfit since i came into this knowing that i wanted her to be wearing something formfitting and bejeweled. a little circus-y too
more people have got to play up her disdainfulness. she'd be 26 in human years
alonzo | 🎹 🍢 🎳
once again, another design pretty similar to his standard replica one. i just tried to make the black patch on his face a little greyer and with some white detailing. because tbh every alonzo with white mascara makes me go crazy its so cute
i also tried to make his head fur/bangs a little distinctive—inspired by a random pic from a production i dont know the name of
enjoy his little cute fit too. pinklonzo. pastelonzo
that one gif of him pantomiming eating a playing card IS canon to me. he'd be 28 in human years
munkustrap | 📼 🥧🎙
verrrry similar to standard replica munks makeup-wise ! however, fur wise.... say hi to mulletstrap. to manestrap. 2 me he is tuggers brother so he gets that. i have no justification for the mullet other than idk, looks good, is funny, and the oslo 1985 production was right to give him one. also he and demeter can match now
i do like when theyre seen as something of a prince... so say hi to the gothenburg and opera populaire-esque epaulettes. theyre cayoot. they also get warsaw munks Big Pant Vibes
give this man a break. hed be 30 in human years
macavity | 🔥 🥂 🎯
he was actually one of the first cats i made design notes for when i started hyperfixating on this musical like.... two months ago. i really tried to mix elements from a bunch of different designs 4 him.... and sorry yall hes a deut brother too. im predictable
the manginess, mane, more ginger-y head fur, tugger-ness and the mouth markings from the 2016 revival... the big big hair, white fur and general makeup from his replica design... and the stylings of il sistina mac with the fitted coat. he also gets unique eyelashes like tugger—this time white instead of gold. he also gets that ominous magic cat eye shading
i think he would act a lot like 2019 mac... suave. but also not as dorky and desperate as he is in that movie LOL. he'd be 33 in human years
ONLY ONE MORE LEFT..... THE OLDIES........ MAYBE... I MIGHT MAKE DESIGNS FOR SOME OF THE SWINGS TOO LOL
#cats the musical#cats musical#sfw furry#character design#chibi#my art#demeter#bombalurina#hysperia#exotica#cassandra#alonzo#munkustrap#macavity
69 notes
·
View notes
Text
—Deadly eyes concept art v1 ₊ ⊹
Hi! I have been working on my content since i been very inspired and i already have art of my oc's in addition to the dibaboys' opinions about my girls! this is volume 1!
—KIRARI MASAMI ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧
—diaboy´s thoughts on kirari ୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆
—shuu:
·:¨༺ while kirari was on drugs ༻¨:·
"such a weird woman, walking like a ghost and bothering me while a sleep.."
"terrible smell, i´d kill her if i could but its such a bother.."
"dont really care, not my problem.."
·:¨༺ when kirari recovers ༻¨:·
"a lewd woman, not good with words but her eyes and expresions tell me everything i need to know.."
"a little anoying, but i dont want her to stop anoying me.."
"kinda funny and mean when it comes to people she dosent like, basically hot.."
—reiji:
·:¨༺ while kirari was on drugs ༻¨:·
"bad blood and bad manners, such a case.."
"doesnt talk much, but when she open her mouth she only say´s strange thing´s.."
"why would that person send her if her blood is´nt good quality? and as a sacrificial bride?.."
·:¨༺ when kirari recovers ༻¨:·
"such a needy human, wanting me to hold her while she sleep... "
"even if she is´nt a worthy woman for me, in some ways she turn to be... what i never thought i´d crave..."
"maybe she is not teh worthy woman i always picture, but is enough to be by my side, taking my father´s place with her by my side.."
—ayato:
·:¨༺ while kirari was on drugs ༻¨:·
"yours truly doesnt care for a bad blooded woman.."
"ok? and?.."
"if i ignore her then she isnt here..."
·:¨༺ when kirari recovers ༻¨:·
"her blood is ok? but not really yours truly favorite.."
"she thinks is so cool just because she plays basketball and do boxing, she looks rediculous..."
"It's a little outrageous that Mako prefers the company of that woman intead of my company, yours truly is too good for her anyways.."
—kanato:
·:¨༺ while kirari was on drugs ༻¨:·
"who?..."
"such an unpleasant woman, teddy and i couldnt stand being around her.."
"the only good thing about that disgusthing woman are those eyes of her, shiny and clear... i dont have that kind of eyes in my collection hehe.."
·:¨༺ when kirari recovers ༻¨:·
"still, the only good thing are those eyes, her blood is too thick, not really my taste.."
"she spend too much time with reiji, i hope that when she dies, reiji let´s me take her eyes hehe.."
"she is´nt as anoying as i thought, rather quiet.."
—laito:
·:¨༺ while kirari was on drugs ༻¨:·
"she acts like an abandoned cat, trying to isolate herself from others and acting tough, but cying in silence at nigth.."
"the messier the better.."
"sadly, her blood is terrible and her attitude is boring, what a same.."
·:¨༺ when kirari recovers ༻¨:·
"reiji make her what she is now but, its odd that now they arent as close as before, funny right?.."
"i see her, how the others watch her as if we dont realize, they will not take her as they please, not that i care, but my big bro does.."
"kirari-chan doesnt make cutes faces as my pretty mako-chan, but i enjoy dessert.."
—subaru:
·:¨༺ while kirari was on drugs ༻¨:·
"the stink its unbreathable, her presence its disgusthing, she is disgusthing.."
"humans are so dumb, so sad and melancolic for no reason.."
"i dont care if she dies, as long as she doesnt make a mess.."
·:¨༺ when kirari recovers ༻¨:·
"she become emotionally dependent of shu and reiji, but none of them seems to be interested in what she really is.."
"she often hides in the plants but in silence, i appreciate the silence.."
"she doesnt try to kill herself anymore.."
.・。.・゜✭ bonus ✭・゜・。.・
—kirari
·:¨༺ while kirari was on drugs ༻¨:·
about shu
"fucking arrogant bitch, hope he choke´s on his own saliva.."
about reiji
"cool, control maniac but kinda cool? acts like a father and speaks funny.."
about ayato
"think he is a big deal but really is just a spoiled brat with a pretty face.."
about kanato
"please never touch me.."
about laito
"fucking weirdo, a little hot without the hat but too scary, he appears out of nowhere everytime and looks like he knows things, dark things.."
about subaru
"pretty boy but those anger issues, idk, too much anger inside one person.."
kirari opinion of the diaboys when she recovers its a secret hehe :p
.・。.・゜✭ ty! ✭・゜・。.・
hope you guys like it! mako comes in the next concep art volume post! if you have any suggestion tell me! i´d appreciate it!
btw the cover was inspired on @ausd art, go check her work it´s precious!
#diabolik boys#diabolik lovers#shu sakamaki#reiji sakamaki#ayato sakamaki#diabolik lovers ayato#diabolik lovers kanato#diabolik lovers oc#laito sakamaki#diabolik lovers smut#diabolik lovers reiji#diabolik oc#diabolik brothers#diabolik lovers subaru#sakamaki reiji#oc art#my ocs#original character#digital art#my art#artists on tumblr
65 notes
·
View notes
Text
Isn't bite also touch?
Chapter one! (Weekly updates)
(Loki x Female demon!reader, eventual smut!)
Check chapter two here!
SUMMARY: Loki was saved by a demon and now the demon girl is attached to him like a cat is attached to catnip.
Is this trickery? Is this Devil lying to Loki to gift him punishment?
Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence (future chapters), angst, mentions of trauma, emotional manipulation, demonic creatures.
Tags: Hurt Loki, protective Loki, protective reader, grumpy Loki, fluff and angst, Grumpy/Sunshine, hurt/comfort, soft Loki at times (he's touch-starved but emotionally unstable), bubbly reader, (future) demon-sex.
Note: Hello! This is my first time writing for Loki and sharing a story of mine, English is not my first language so please be kind.
Everything has been made with lots of love, and I'll see if I add more tags as the story goes. If you like it, please let me know your thoughts!
“We caught him. We got Loki.” Steve Rogers bragged, spreading the news to the team through the tiny speaker the headphones had.
Some sighed relieved, others—specifically Tony, accompanied by Natasha, hurried to examine the cell he was going to stay at, temporarily, before being sent to receive Asgardian punishment.
Loki didn't seem even slightly defeated at the concept of staying in the cell once again, it's almost as if he's planned it, and with Loki, you could never know. He still had the smugness in his expression, but he lacked his army and scepter, so the Avengers couldn't help but be overly suspicious of his unbothered behavior.
The cell was intrinsically made to protect the external side from whatever— or whoever— was inside, a stronger, hopefully more long-lasting copy of the first that was destroyed before the official New York attack. The concept was created by S.H.I.E.L.D with the support of Stark to provide safety to everyone whenever Hulk decided to come out, and Loki knew it was still that way, but at the moment those were the special occasions in which it can be lent to any dangerous individual.
But seeing as they had to strengthen the new cell, based on what happened to the first, Loki didn't know what the improvements of this one were.
Anyhow, none of the Avengers expected that a being was rushing to the same spot some of them were, at the same time. You hurried sneakily hoping not to be found, hiding in the shadows to find the local you were informed of.
The shadows moved with you whenever you walked, in the literal sense, and morphing to whatever shape you desired. The silence that your footsteps provided was unfamiliar to human (or enhanced humans, or alien) ears.
When you arrived at the cell responsible for locking Loki — recently having discovered his name — you hesitated coming closer, seeing that Stark and Romanoff were there first. You chose the option of sticking to your shadows by the corner.
“Second time you come here, and this time Banner is well-protected and miles away. Should you have a plan for this, we'll lock you again so you can see that you will always lose no matter what you try next.” Tony's voice was loud and clear, giving no room to thinking otherwise, that's what he always sounded like.
His confident tone did not manage to afflict Loki's expression, so if he did feel the impact or had a change of emotions, it was unknown to the two watching his every move.
Natasha kept a serious glare at him, one that'd inspire others to shiver until they even dare question the temperature of the room. She waited patiently to see if Loki would snap and try some escapade at any given moment.
He didn't.
“I always have a plan, Stark. By now, you should know that. It would make our little encounters way simpler.” His velvety voice was surprisingly smooth and showed a contrast to the silence of the room, impacting them with the sophisticated and kept-together tone. Almost managing to make them shiver.
At least Tony, not Natasha (she didn't seem to be easily intimidated). Or you, the one that's still in the shadows.
“Well, then you can calculate your plan for as long as you'd like, for as many days as it takes, 'cause you're not getting yourself out of this prison. We made sure of it.” Natasha stated, and Tony quickly nodded in response, glancing at Romanoff and having his eyes come back to Loki.
After that, you watched them leave.
You could sense every moving thing in the huge room, your powers presented to you the incessant—and quite loud— heartbeat that was coming from Loki's chest. Blame it on yourself for being able to detect that but you silently wondered how they didn't notice.
After some more time spent in silence, you could sense Loki's nervousness increasing, it was palpable, and honestly, the atmosphere was becoming kind of pleasant to you, who decided to wait and analyze the way his emotions were changing.
Fear. Although he seemed to not want to demonstrate that, perhaps also afraid someone might be watching through the cameras.
Was nobody really going to come?
You realized with disdain that maybe his plan involved counting on a third-party. This time he couldn't possibly understand the patterns of the cell beforehand, he also couldn't appeal to the team's distaste for each other, so a fight like the other time wouldn't be able to be induced.
Maybe he thought Thanos would come for him, seeing as he led the army of Chitauri. Maybe he thought he'd be tracked and they'd come for him again, to finish the mission.
You knew this, you knew everything that involved vulnerability. Humans were somehow unique in this matter, but Gods always carried something special within and most of the times it is related to their godlike trait of specialty.
You get Zeus as an example: the leader of the Gods on Olympus, will always be scared of failure and being inferior, and when found in situations he sees as disrespectful his anger will always be human-like, his punishments will be tainted by an emotional and human anger.
This is something special about the Gods we can live with, this is what makes them and their stories interesting to humans, the feelings and flaws. Semblance to humanity.
Their flaws are deeper and carry more pain than humans could possibly experience. The God of Mischief, Tricks and Lies carried a long-time pain and years of trauma for being betrayed and lied to. It was interesting to watch life be ironic and to see the flashback coming to life behind their eyes.
To be frank, you weren't expecting him to depend on someone else to escape, it's supposed to be common nature for him by now. The distrust, the tricks any time, to be wise in the nature of misleading and manipulation.
But anyhow, you decided to wait and check if any other noise or heartbeat would make a sound in the room.
It didn't, still just Loki.
So you approached, still covered, protected from view by your shape-shifting shadows.
The atmosphere was colder than you had expected once you were in front of the cell, your hands touched the armored glass. Invisible now, abandoning your shadows. You didn't know if the cold was coming from him or if they just kept the air that way. Probably both.
Loki was in the middle of the cell now, facing his bed for the night.
His thoughts kept betraying his facial expressions, being louder than he allowed his face to show, they were a constant mess of scheming and planning different ways out, a bunch of diverse techniques for trickery with the intent of finding his freedom.
Honestly you were getting a bit of a headache, but you realized he clearly didn't know that to do. You could sense his restricted powers moving through his veins.
You touched the glass with your fingertips first, then, with your fingernails, applying a slight pressure to it. Making Loki violently flinch and turn his body back to the entrance expecting to see one of the Avengers there to taunt him.
He saw nothing and immediately frowned due to that. Then relaxed, noticing there was nobody there and thinking it might have been something else. You wondered if he could sense you or if he thought it was an illusion.
You decided to make use of the fact he still kept his front to the entrance—where you secretly were— and once again slowly scratched the glass he was being kept in.
Loki visibly flinched once again.
“Fine, I thought it was nothing at first but I can definitely feel someone here now. Who is it? Who's there?!” He asked out loud to the empty room.
You waited in silence, seeing his fear was quite the spectacle. It's humanly cruel to admit but the fear that comes from Gods are a treat to be felt and experienced. To you.
You were slightly shocked he could feel your presence there, although it did answer the doubt you had before to know if he could feel your presence or not.
You were tempted to scare him further, so mischievously as you decided to be, you closed your hand to a fist and knocked on the glass. Different areas, at the same time.
He looked around dramatically quick, closed his expression after noticing this was possibly a trick. He got back in place and his eyes dared to look forward— frighteningly exactly where you are—, and crossed his arms, presenting a —also—dramatic stance.
“Very funny, really adorable. I don't enjoy playing with witches, especially ones that won't show themselves, I'll let you know. Take off the spell.”
Really? I thought he liked tricks. You guess fear changes people, you could laugh at his scaredy cat behavior some other time.
You took off the spell and showed your human form to him, making a mental note of how he seemed to gasp when you appeared out of nowhere. You noticed the cell seemed to restrict his powers although it seemed not to erase it completely, which is a capable downfall for the team of humans, they should've checked this before.
You presented yourself in a full black uniform with a long matching cape covering your shoulders, and your hair was kept down and loosen. The most noticeable detail was the metal mask you kept covering your nose and mouth. Allowing him to stare only at your eyes, not being able to see your full face.
“Loki, Loki of Asgard.” Your voice broke the silence, your eyes seemed to shine a little brighter after pronouncing the words.
He stared at you, his eyes questioning and doubtful, multiple questions running through his mind.
“And who are you? One more of the freaks coming to teach me how to behave in midgardian society? How do you know who I am?”
“Let's humbly say that I'm here to…save you,” he couldn't help but laugh at that.
“And what's that supposed to mean? You were in silence just then for a while, you clearly want something from me, and I want to know what it is. And I wish to know who you are, or maybe…who you're probably working for.”
“One of Thanos' children?” he thought, you don't care enough to ask what it means.
You gave him a strange look he could not decipher.
“I work for no one, only myself. You can think of me as an angel, if you want, or if you need it. But I want to help you. Your powers have drawn me to you.”
“No angel would ever assume they feel drawn to greatness or power, I can only believe you may be a witch,” he eyed you up and down again, you noticed he seemed to do it a lot. Like he was constantly trying to understand things about you.
“No, I'm no witch. But I do admire them,” you let your head down a bit, then stare at him. Allowing your hands to try and reach the glass once again.
His eyes widened even before you managed to complete the touch. He thought you were going to scratch it again.
“No, no, don't do that! Stop scratching the glass!”
“Don't worry, I'm merely touching it this time.” you reached the glass and analyzed it, your hands glowing a black flowing matter, your powers, attempting to understand what it was made of and what could be its weakness. “Someone really doesn't want you to come out, it seems. The cell is reinforced by an invisibility spell that's hiding a layer of Adamantium.”
“I don't know what that is, but the cell wasn't built for me that's for sure.”
“It's a special metal, possibly the second strongest metal on Earth. Maybe it was built for you, or maybe not. I could sense your powers from miles away. You're more powerful than you think you are, with more experience you could turn a prison of Adamantium into multiple pieces.”
He seemed to get angrier at what you said. Immediately scowling at you.
“Are you claiming I'm not experienced with magic? What would you know?! I'm over a thousand years of magic experience, I'm pretty sure I can handle anything by now.”
“Then break the cage yourself.” you simply stated. “Do it then.”
“I can't, you dim-witted creature. As you can see, my magic is restricted.” He gesticulated to the cell around him, crossed his arms and looked at you.
“I know you carry more power than the supreme sorcerer in person. Again, if you had more faith in yourself mayhaps you'd be able to break it and find your way out on your own.” Your eyes wandered to the ground, making it seem like you didn't even care much, turning around slightly as if to go away.
“And you…you can break it?” he asked after some seconds, lowering his voice.
You turned back, looking over the whole glass. Your body leaned a bit backwards with you, showing a bit of drama through your movements.
Then you placed yourself exactly where you were, and straightened your posture to speak to him.
“Yes, yes I can break it for you. I'll help you.” You decided. He seemed overly suspicious of every movement you made.
Placing your hand on the glass you let yourself feel all the tingly numbness that comes with allowing your powers to overcome, then you feel the glass start shattering under your fingertips. The strength of the material was stronger than anything you were used to physically handle daily.
Surprisingly, Loki's hand started glowing a light green color and his eyes closed as if putting the same effort as you into attempting to break the glass, less than he usually would be able to but still trying. His body got closer to the glass, not actually daring to touch it yet.
Your powers together managed to crack the top of his glass cell, this was when the loud warning noise came along, ringing in your ears and making you flinch.
Loki grew alarmed and his magic was visibly weakening as the noise took over all the place. Seeing as these were extreme measures, you started putting double the effort to break it faster.
“It would be incredibly great if you could just help me again. It was good before, it was working.” You told him to make him pay attention to you once again. “You shouldn't let your emotions get in the way like that, I can sense your desperation from here, it's distracting!”
He looked at her in disbelief but he put his hands in front of himself again, his powers grew strongly green and the glass cracked more and more.
“You talk about desperation but I'm not the one that's raising my voice…” He muttered in the middle of everything.
“If you helped me I wouldn't need to!”
“Didn't you say you could do everything by yourself?”
“I'm just saying in a matter of hurry to get you out, it would be great to have your powers help me break the second most powerful metal on Earth!”
“You should thank the gods that I-”
“Well I don't! I simply DON'T thank the gods,” you said louder than before. He seemed surprised but quickly recomposed himself. “And stop attempting a threat, should the humans arrive I can let myself out easily. Be more grateful.”
“As if! For all I know you must be a witch planning on kidnapping me… But seeing as being with the midgardian costume-show is worse, I don't mind the entertainment of being kidnapped by a…“ He took a pause to look at you, and you raised an eyebrow at him, slightly tilting your head. “Uh…insane, scary witch.”
You could feel the heat increase and the announcement that there was an escape plan happening kept ringing loudly into the ears of both you. It would be a matter of time until the Avengers could track you and come back to the room. You both turned your heads to the entrance door that was right behind you, nothing yet.
Loki watched as your eyes seemed to go completely black in an instant, hands were getting shakier both yours and Loki's, then in the blink of an eye, the glass smashed in tiny little pieces.
Loki put his arms in front of his face due to the impact but you didn't, your hands were still glowing with darkness and gray speckles of light as the magic slowly dissolved. One of the multiple pieces of glass crossed your forehead marking a small bleeding cut, that's when you noticed you probably should have had the reaction to protect your body to the glass. You noticed a few tinier pieces made contact with your mask, making a quiet but obvious sound of ripping steel, only a little, but what a shame.
You didn't want Loki to get too suspicious of you so you didn't make it heal faster, you let it bleed a little and it's close to your left eye.
You watch it with interest, you quite like blood, you like the reminder you can bleed.
Putting your hand to the light wound and taking a bit of the blood on your skin, you let it taint your fingers a little red.
“We should go then.” You stated as a final decision.
You noticed that the moment the glass was destroyed, Loki's eyes seemed to get a bright blue shade for an instant, they even seemed a bit lost, then they went back to the green-grayish tone.
“Wait, we could–”
You teleported both of your ways out of there, right before the Avengers arrived.
★
You realized your plan carried no real structure and it upset you immensely. Now you were stuck in an isolated mossed area with an alien God that appeared to be in deep distress.
“You know this is great, where in the all the Nine even are we?” He looked around at that, checking the varied tree species the place had. And turned to look at you in disbelief.
“Are we still in the United States?!” He questioned loudly once again and started walking straight ahead.
“If there wasn't such pressure on us I could have teleported us somewhere nicer. I couldn't let them be too close,” with that you followed right behind him, managing to keep your footsteps steadier to make it seem as if you know what you're doing.
“If you had waited a little before teleporting us I could have gotten the Tesseract back! If we had the Tesseract I'd manage to find somewhere to hide, very far from here… You didn't let me dictate our plan and now look where we are,”
“The Tesseract?” You asked a bit confused, then you slowly nodded as you just remembered seeing something about that. “The bright blue cube the Avengers carried with them? Is it important?” You were curious now.
“Yes, it is property of Asgard. And it should be with me. They took it from me.” He started going faster and you hurried to match his steps.
“First of all, why? Second of all,” you paused as you tripped on the rocks. “Ugh. Second of all- I definitely should be the one on the front. Let me lead the way.”
You certainly didn't appreciate feeling inferior.
You ran a little to go and stay in front of him, turning your back to Loki and proceeding to walk first.
The Asgardian behind you was confused by the suddenness of your actions, and stomped his foot seemingly taking your choice as insolence.
“Where are we?! What the Hel is going on?!”
“I told you I was going to save you. I did, I took you out of that god forsaken cell, I freed you.”
“Freedom would be a solid belief if I could be by myself right now.”
“Hey. I have been nothing but nice,” you don't know why you were defensive. “And you have yet to mention why the Tesseract should be with you. I said I can do anything, if you convince me, maybe I can bring it to you,” you said firmly and stared right at him.
That made him pause his steps for a while, you were almost near a tunnel. You paused as well.
He blinked, and looked at you before speaking.
“It's the space stone, a stone that allows you to teleport anywhere you want at any given moment. It controls space in time, and I was using it to my benefit for my plans.”
You looked down to the floor deep in thought with that. Keeping quiet for a little.
“You don't need that, you have me.”
He stared at you quietly too, you almost didn't notice how his eyes shined a little greener after your words, looking… lively, or honest.
“You'd…move us whenever we needed?”
“Yes, of course,” you exclaimed bubbly.
Everything seemed warmer to you, noticing the Tesseract wasn't going to ruin your plans if you lacked it, your powers are useful enough for that.
He looked at you oddly, then kept walking. Indicating with his hands that you should walk as well, silently not caring anymore if you're first.
“I wish you would tell me who you are. The only thing I can see other than your eyes is the mask.”
“You wish for me to take off the mask?” You smiled sardonically. “Are you this curious?”
“You did call yourself an angel,” he began. Your eyes turned slightly darker at the mention, but you were looking at the floor, you kept smiling under the mask.
“I did, yes. I am one, somehow,” you lied.
You know he can see through your lies, he chose not to comment.
The tunnel was right in front of you two now, you both kept walking. It brought nothing but humid ground with water puddles that kept announcing you in the dark, sometime or another you could hear the small noise of a bug.
Overall, it was quite cold. You thought the cold in the cell had been due to keeping the atmosphere that way, but Loki's presence felt as cold as the air around you, literally.
“Are you cold?” You asked.
“Hm?” He was distracted analyzing his whereabouts. “No, why? Is it cold? I didn't notice.”
You hummed, you were kind of sensitive to the cold so you weren't sure if you were the one on the wrong. Maybe it was just the tunnel.
Either way, you opened your hands spreading all your fingers, absorbing as much warmth as the place could have.
You noticed Loki's fingertips growing immediately the green it gets when he uses his powers, and…oh.
He conjured you a blanket. A dark green one, that looked very soft.
“I'm a gentleman, I can't let you go cold.” he looked at you and waited for you to take it.
Still, you kept your hands growing warmer and warmer, you got both of them together and huddled a tiny speckle of… fire.
You were satisfied with that, but made it a bit bigger. Now you carried a small flame in the air among your fingers, and your entire hands were glowing red. You felt warm enough, the pyrokinesis required the warmth of your entire body.
You didn't notice Loki's admiration right beside you, his eyes sparkling with the movements of your fingers through the air.
“You can control fire? Impressive,” he said in awe.
“It's nothing,” your cheeks felt just as warm as your hands, you supposed you could blame it on the pyrokinesis effect. “You can still give me the blanket, put it around me or something,” you moved your shoulders trying to demonstrate.
So he did, he placed it around your shoulders. It wasn't exactly long, good because it wouldn't touch the dirty ground. Or come close to it.
As you two walked the rest of the tunnel, now feeling less cold than before, a green light flowed by your side again. Loki's hand grew a green light to help us see the dark way in front of us, the fire helped already but it's nice that he thought to add to it.
You just assumed he liked feeling useful as much as you.
Maybe you were a creature cursed to desiring greatness for eternity, however, his powers did draw you to him even further. Your eyes brighten as you look at the green surrounding his fingertips.
He looks at you curiously, eyes changing from his hands to your face back and forth.
Both of you don't say anything.
★
The 'Avengers' as they have recently been named, decided the world was under a giant threat again seeing as Loki had not only escaped but he did so with the help of an unknown person.
This opened possibilities for a thousand different theories. Maybe the God of Mischief had fans, but it'd be really quick enough for them to plan and manage to save him?
Plus, they knew the 'person' was powerful when checking the cameras, seeing the woman appear out of nowhere, and seeing they teleported together. At first they thought Loki was the responsible one for that, but what if he wasn't? It mainly worried them the fact that humans —if it was what saved him— do not simply have superpowers like that.
It became a S.H.I.E.L.D case the second they discovered.
“What if he has more aliens he brainwashed?” Clint asked at the table. “I don't wanna deal with these aliens any more for today, I've had enough.”
“Considering the fact you were just brainwashed by the guy, I can give you that,” Natasha answered, putting a hand on his shoulder. She looked at him more caringly afterwards when the others weren't paying attention to them. Saying quietly: “Are you okay? Don't you think it's better if you rest for now?”
“I'll have enough time to rest after we get that serial killer slash crazy alien back to the cells. Or better yet, out of this planet.” With that, he looked at the other teammates.
Tony was checking the securities and zooming in on the screens, recording to save every detail of the presented outfit, mask, all the angles of this person, anything he could get.
Thor was relentless, demanding to know any information the humans could grant him with. He didn't understand how it wasn't quicker to locate him.
For him it seemed more like a family missing thing than a mass murderer villain missing, they guessed that after all, Loki was still his brother and Thor still had such a big heart.
“If this being is more powerful than my brother is, I don't think we'll find them in these…” Thor turned and gesticulated to the cameras Stark was studying the scenes from. “What are these again?” He mumbled in a hurry, just wanting to get his point across.
“Cameras.” Steve replied.
“Cameras! Of course,” Thor said again making a dramatic case with his booming voice, “I need to check in Asgard to see if he's not there, maybe the Asgardians even know something…I don't know, I'm not sure.” He kept looking around nervously, and picking on his hands as he spoke.
“Thor, relax. We're going to find him, it's our main mission to get a hold of this freak.” Bruce replied now. “If there's one thing about our group of very strange individuals is that we don't like to fail, we're too arrogant for that.”
“Speak for yourself, I'm far from arrogant.” Tony replied clicking on another screen and bringing it closer to him, the technology making the images clearer.
Steve tries to hide a snort, and Natasha can't help but actually laugh. “Come on now, it's not time for jokes.”
“Yeah, don't make us laugh,” she says.
“Is this amusing to you, Steve?” Tony said. Looking away from the screen. “If you think I'm too arrogant-”
“I have no time for this.” Thor turned around, picking Mjolnir with extreme ease and turning it in the air. “I'll be out for a while. If you find news about my brother don't forget to look up to the sky and scream very loudly the name 'HEIMDALL', please.” He made sure to give a quiet scream to interpretate them screaming to Heimdall.
“And who's that Heimdall guy again?” Clint asked.
“The man that sees it all. The guardian of Asgard. I asked him for news regarding Loki's location, but he seems to find absolutely nothing, it's unbelievable. He said there's strong magic protecting his surroundings, or him in itself.”
“If Loki is on Asgard, make sure to send us a letter or a text message to warn us and proceed be sure to keep him there, forever, no need to bring him back.” Tony said dismissively. “We've got enough trouble as it is.”
“Well, now you're just being rude. I bet Loki didn't mean any real harm with his actions. He wasn't like that before.” Thor replied once again, and then turned to the exit to go outside. “Again, if you find anything of him, make sure to yell to the sky!”
The moment Thor left and they saw the rainbow appear through the window and make quite a loud opening, Natasha looked at them and said:
“So who's going to be the one to take the role of insane and yell at the sky?” She asked with a smile.
“Hopefully no one, his brother might be having a blast with Asgardians chicks in a pool, if they have those there. And everything will go back to normal, we'll have no need to worry,” Tony said.
“Just because that's what you'd been doing if you escaped prison doesn't mean that that's what Loki's doing right now.” Steve argued.
“Who let the popsicle speak again? I don't know about you, but other people are familiar with the concept of having sex-”
“Is this conversation really necessary, Tony?” Steve argued back.
“Well, hopefully Tony's right about not needing to worry and-”
Mary Hill entered the room before Bruce could finish the sentence, “Am I interrupting? I apologize, I hate to be the bringer of bad news…actually, no, I'm alright with that.” She said menancingly. After that, she put a laptop on the table they were meeting at.
Also, putting next to it a bunch of information resources, such as multiple other tablets and laptops containing images that are some blurry and others in perfect quality. One of them even contained an image of a woman, seemingly an ID, but they weren't sure.
“Fury was in contact with other agents that could know anything about the characteristics the unknown person had. They studied the height, the weight, the length of their hair, and other things. We tried to study the precise gender this person has but aren't so sure, so we call it Being, they weren't even sure it's human. Still, they checked the powers, the speed in which the glass was broken, everything they could through the images. Changed the angles and studied for news about it, checking specifically also the mask she wore.”
While she narrated every step of the professionals she opened one of the screens and displayed it to another device to share Fury's screen. That's when he began to talk to them, to tell the story through his side as well.
“The creature, we were looking first for witches or any enhanced human beings such as other possible soldiers like Rogers. We were both relieved and worried to see it wasn't the case, our work couldn't be granted with much, but what we found of it should be enough for now to know what we're working with.”
Hill presented a specific image on screen, one that seemed like the one on the ID, the 'woman' had her eyes wide open seeing as she had to look directly at the camera for the important exam.
The image was black and white, of course. But she had her eyes completely empty, the document was inked with white the part where her eyes should be.
“They checked for occurrences and similar characteristics on other people surrounding the same places. What we found complicated is that the situations in which people disappeared like that and appeared out of nowhere were brought up by different people in different parts of the world.” The images kept moving to present women, men and children, not much, probably just up to eight identities that they could collect from around the whole world. “But what's most interesting is that, none of these people actually exist.”
Fury stated and caused the silence of the room to grow instantly tense. They immediately found that frightening.
“Has Loki really been planning the attack on New York for that long? This must be related to him somehow. When, how-” Clint began and was interrupted by Fury again.
“These people would appear on a certain day and disappear at any moment. It was uncertain, it has no pattern, we're in doubt of our process because we can't seem to be sure just one person could be responsible for this. And we're unsure of Loki's relation to this being, at least any relation before today.”
The pictures presented could vary from news where there would be people morphing out of shadows or coming out of something slimy to become human. They weren't sure these things were related to one another but they carried similarities with the pattern of power presented in the cell earlier.
There were videos of men, women, even animals, morphing into something else. And mainly all of them had to be related to the shadows one time or another, that's all they had, they had to stick to it.
“We believe we're dealing with a shapeshifter, and even worse… We believe it's a demon.”
#loki x reader#loki fluff#loki x you#loki laufeyson#loki friggason#loki angst#loki fanfic#dom loki#dom!loki#sub loki#dark!reader#loki odinson#loki imagine#loki x female reader#loki#demon!reader
305 notes
·
View notes
Text
my persona 5 ocs: the crow's nest (aka a glorified pthieves hate club)
warning!!!!!
this post contains spoilers, as well as every other post related to this one.
by clicking the "read more" button, you are agreeing to spend a good few minutes reading my walls of text and thus giving your soul to me forever and being forced to read even more text in the future.
will you sign the contract?
cool, thanks.
the crow's nest is an au of mine featuring my (very cool!) ocs about our favourite goro akechi creating and leading his own ragtag group of outcasted teenagers to help take down the phantom thieves! through a bit of online chatting and human experimentation, akechi manages to gather SIX whole allies!
let's start with the first one, who isn't actually an adolescent outsider, but akechi's cute coworker.
that's right. a robot cat. with cannons built into his arms. akechi felt the same way, don't worry.
his name is lysander. like akechi, he was made to be a hitman sneaking around in the metaverse. but unlike akechi, he was made by rich people. then he was given to even richer people to turn him into a killing machine that makes snide comments every now and then.
as you might expect from a robot, lysander is very robotic. unemotive, dedicated to his routine, unable to grasp concepts like wordplay and human phrases, starts speaking in a southern american accent when magnets are brought near him-- that's just a lysander thing, actually.
akechi's not the biggest fan of his new coworker. he's a great assassin, so akechi's just a bit jealous of him. he's not a very good conversation partner, so akechi's rather bored of him. but he's a cute kitty, and you wouldn't hurt one of those, would you?
lysander uses both weapons and a persona in the metaverse, and for the people who have absolutely no clue as to how a robot could have a persona (probably because they haven't played the earlier games. no shame to you), i have an explanation.
but i don't remember it. whoops. maybe when i make the post about the infodump about their deal in the metaverse, i'll have recalled it. for now, just trust me, there is canon lore that supports this possibility.
it's not like they're ALL robots anyway. onto our next—fleshy—ally!
this is roxy okanoue. the witty and playful yet formal and intellectual girl akechi met on a forum, the leader of the Official Phantom Investigation Team (the lame OLD name), and the most passive aggressive asswad you will ever meet.
roxy puts up the front of a fun-loving, good-natured girl who's just living out her youth, but it's a little too late for that to be her truth. around her team, which she considers private time, she's much more jaded and quick to irritate. she really values her role as a leader, but any criticism towards her, genuine or not, will get a "haha, you're so funny" or a slight jab at your self-image.
her and akechi verbally agreed that they would both lead the crow's nest, but neither of them actually do. it's a subtle back-and-forth consisting of backhanded comments and not-really-compliments that tend to derail the serious group discussions.
meet bunki kuboyama, the shujin academy newspaper club member so unpleasant that the only other member considers him dead to her.
bunki is the one with all the attitude. where roxy is subtly malicious, he will not hold back on ranting to you about just how unflattering those colours are on you. he's very keen on voicing every thought of his, actually, which means he expresses a lot of—frankly, unwanted—opinions. it doesn't even matter if he wasn't in the conversation before, because he is now. and god he will not shut up.
akechi isn't fond of bunki's nosy nature, and especially not how much he insists he tells him about his private life outside . but bunki's failure to grasp the concept of fun makes him good for serious discussions where he brings in his actually good ideas, and he's within literal inches of the real phantom thieves, so akechi won't curbstomp him. not today, at least.
another one of bunki's good traits is that he's observant with a good eye for details, which makes him a plausible navigator in the metaverse. but that's another post for another day.
next is chifuyu oishi. he was born in a back alley dumpster and raised by feral dogs.
okay, not actually, but it would explain a lot about him. chifuyu is loud, aggressive, and his temper is as foul as spoiled milk. however, if you're trustworthy in his eyes, he'll have an undying and unconditional loyalty to you, as well as the impression that you'll always answer his pleas when he pesters you about his latest big bang burger craving.
unfortunately, akechi turns out to be the main target of said pestering because he's a "rich, famous celebrity or some shit like that, yeah?", and thus has to pay for his meals. akechi feels like he could really be doing something better with his time, but... whatever stops the bomb from going off, i guess.
chifuyu's fixation on combat makes him a useful asset in battle, at least. he's good at following commands, except for the ones telling him to take it easy, meaning he gets injured. a lot. nothing he's not used to, though.
introducing the girl who would probably be very upset to learn that she needs an introduction since she expects everyone to know her already, kiyoe hino!
kiyoe comes from a family of old wealth. you can tell, because she brings it up in every sentence. she's excessively prideful with lots of badges and trophies and medals in all kind of competitions to justify it. kiyoe likes to believe that she's composed and elegant like a princess would be, but if one dares to question her she will become extremely upset and petty.
akechi finds that she's rather hard to work with, seeing she has a tendency to follow commands from nobody but herself, but all it takes is a bit of bargaining and boot-kissing and she's willing to help out. it's not something akechi wants to do, but he has to, otherwise he's lost an ally. and knowing kiyoe, if she's not in the crow's nest, she'll probably try to find some way to take the phantom thieves down herself, disrupting the others' plans in the process.
that said, she definitely could if she tried hard enough. kiyoe isn't the best at managing her emotions, but she is cunning, calculated, and a good strategist. her intelligence is a great weapon if used correctly.
and last, but not least, is etsumi fukunaga. she's an ex-ballerina with a personality as fragile as a flower, making you wonder how she wound up with these guys in the first place.
well... "fragile" can mean two things in her case. either delicate, dainty, and precious... or very, very unstable.
etsumi is a sweet girl, sure. she's soft-spoken and a good listener and an obedient teammate. but put any pressure on her, and she will crack. it's difficult to have a productive conversation with her because it can never be her fault, she's the victim, and she only ever does good. etsumi also has a tendency to think aloud, and her thoughts are... violent. graphically so.
but akechi actually likes her. her crying can be annoying at times, but she's extremely dedicated to eradicating the phantom thieves, follows orders without resistance, and it's quite obvious she looks up to him.
etsumi's previous experience in the art of dance makes her a capable fighter (and an elegant one, at that) as well. she also offers good morale, seeing as she's the only one on the team without a stick up her ass.
if you've read this far, it means you gave me enough time to suck your soul from your body. it's mine now, and now you have to read more oc posts in the future.
i sure hope that's not something you'll complain about. i hope you enjoyed learning about them, and thank you for your time! bye now
#persona 5#p5#persona 5 oc#p5 oc#persona#persona oc#goro akechi#he is the star of the show here!#oc: lysander#oc: roxy okanoue#oc: bunki kuboyama#oc: chifuyu oishi#oc: kiyoe hino#oc: etsumi fukunaga#the crows nest au#so many tags... hghabd...#koto.txt#koto.png
37 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hazbin Hotel Synopsis
Salutations! My name is Jade and I have to make a blog for my Composition class. When given a free range of topics, I decided to write about Hazbin Hotel. Mainly character information, headcannons, theories. You know, that kinda stuff. I realized for my professor to care about any of this stuff, she probably needs to know about the show. And I highly doubt she already does. So! let's get into a basic rundown of the show, in mostly my own words. Obviously, spoilers ahead.
On October 28th, 2019, YouTube channel "Vivziepop" uploaded a video named "HAZBIN HOTEL (PILOT)." The video soon blew up, and got praise and backlash for the idea of the show. It got a lot of criticism for being an animated musical, since those are mainly geared towards children. However, Hazbin hotel is a show with a target audience of 18+ (weird to think I was like 15 when this came out.) With many dark themes including commentary on the toxicity of the porn industry, this show is obviously not meant for children.
Despite the backlash, it obviously did something right, because in early 2020, before the second episode could come out, A24, an American independent film company, decided to take the concept and make a whole series out of it. Four years later, on January 19th, 2024, the show's first series was released on Amazon Prime.
The show follows the Princess of Hell, Charlie Morningstar. She is a very energetic demon who believes the sinners in hell deserve a second chance. She builds a hotel and basically gets laughed at by everyone. But after getting back to it after an interview about said hotel, there's a knock on the door. We then meet one of my favorite characters, Alastor. Alastor is known as the "radio demon." He offers to help Charlie with the hotel. Charlie says yes and that's kinda the end of the pilot.
Alastor then enlists the help of Husk, a cat-like demon who runs the bar, and Niffty, a small cyclops who does the cleaning. It is immediately evident that Alastor is a powerful demon. He is known as an "overlord," and is feared by many, having the ability to control basically anyone, along with summoning help for any number of things.
As the show goes on we find out that redemption is basically impossible. The angels literally laugh in Charlie's face when she suggests it. Adam, the first human soul in Heaven and angel, lets it out that his army "exterminates' sinners and demons like once a year (which later gets changed to 6 months and then 1 month.) This upsets Emily, a Seraphim who shares the views of Charlie. Emily and Charlie say that:
If Hell is forever, then Heaven must be a lie (Emily!)
If angels can do whatever, and remain in the sky
The rules are shades of gray when you don't do as you say
When you make the wretched suffer just to kill them again.
Adam then says he will see them in 1 month instead of 6. (this is apparently because of a major timeskip, but I feel like it wasn't really explained like that in the show. it really just reads that Adam keeps moving up the date cause he's a prick that wants to kill all the demons.) Charlie decides to take things into her own hands and finds someone who knows how to Kill the Angels. So, what does she do? She gets her own army, her own weapons, and the guts to kill, and proceeds to kill literally any angel she can. Alastor gets injured and is unable to fight off Adam, which ends up fine because Niffty kills him. The scene is actually hilarious because Niffty is described as “10 pounds soaking wet,” by Angel Dust. So this tiny demon who was given a knife and told “stab any angel you see,” kills what is essentially the hardest angel to even touch. That's like the president dying from a mosquito bite.
That’s not even mentioning Sir Pentious, who originally tries to kill Adam. After Alastor is killed, Sir Pentious decides to go after Adam himself. Pentious is one of the most cowardly characters in the whole show. He is so scared to confess to a girl at some point, that upon her questioning why he bought her a drink, he says “Because i bought everyone drinks!” when he hadn’t but then he does because everyone hears him. He does that like 2 more times and the situation repeats himself, even when the drinks turn into sex. He is too cowardly to admit to liking her that he has sex with a stranger instead of just confessing. But I digress, because he redeems himself by going after Adam. He resolves. He confesses to his crush. He kisses her. And then Adam kills him like, almost immediately. Despite Pentious being a coward, he isn’t weak in any sense of the word. He is a skilled inventor with many war machines that could have killed Adam. Adam just kinda snapped and suddenly Pentious and his minions and his blimp are dead. But Niffty, a masochistic, child-like cyclopes kills Adam. I love Niffty, but how does that work?
It fine though, because Sir Pentious ends up in Heaven. His sacrifice for his friends proves enough that after he dies, he ends up in Heaven in front of Sera and Emily, the Seraphim. Thats the end. The last thing we see of the main plot is confused faces and a less dark version of Sir Pentious.
#hazbin hotel#charlie morningstar#angel dust#sir pentious#hazbin angel dust#hazbin charlie#hazbin alastor
26 notes
·
View notes
Note
I love your Terror catboy AU, it’s a funky combination of adorable drawings and Victorianesque pseudoscientific hierarchies. However, it made me wonder about catgirls/doggirls; if you’re happy to answer, how do you see the intersection of gender and hybridity playing out in this universe?
I LOVE THIS QUESTION THANK YOU FOR THIS QUESTION i have a lot of thots on this bc the whole "angel in the house" image of the ideal (middle class) victorian woman is such a fun concept to play with more under cut
ok so what im about to say rn really only applies to middle class and upper class women in this au as those are the main characters in the terror if we get into the lower classes its a more complicated and nuanced story.
anyway in victorian times women were expected to be chaperoned everywhere by an older woman such as a female relative or female servant lest she be corrupted by the ills of the world and by men etc. this is where cat/doggirls come in. its expected that if you have a daughter then you goooootta adopt a companion or two for her both to show off your status and to ensure that your daughter has a friend / chaperone / mentor / moral compass for life. so in cat/dogpeople households the cat/dogboys usually go off to whatever institution their bloodline is associated with and cat/doggirls usually become companions for the wives and daughters of the men employed by those institutions. its very different from human family structures because the expectation here is that your child will not stay with your household, youre making children knowing that they will likely not belong to you regardless of whether they are male or female and that you might never see them again once theyre adopted and they need to be adopted or else its a failure on you and your bloodline. (grim i know) this system is also why each generation of cat/dogpeople tends to be fairly large, little and hodgson and irving all have an overabundance of siblings and cousins many of whom theyve never met in their life.
interestingly, cat/doggirls are actually more valued amongst these families than cat/dogboys because cat/dogboys can only be sent off to the institution the bloodline is associated with whereas cat/doggirls can be sent off to any upper/middle class household regardless of association and it would still be considered respectable AND it creates new relationships between human families that the human owners might find beneficial (kind of like how marriage was historically the exchange of women to strengthen political ties between families). this means that excess cat/dogboy sons are often disappointing to the parents - edward little is one of these. all 3 of his elder brothers had already left for the navy so he grew up playing w his sisters and getting dolled up in their dresses and being told that oh he'd make such a pretty girl and pretty bride oh if only he'd been born a girl etc. totally doesnt fuck him up.
speaking of fucked up theres hickey and his whole situation w sophia. having a catboy as a companion for an upper class girl is a big no-no and only happened because [insert hickey backstory here that is too long and really should have its own post]. no body approves of this but sophia loves him so very much and they were inseparable up until they were separated when sophia went to tasmania with the franklins and hickey was abandoned to the streets against both his and sophias will. sophia refused to adopt a new more appropriate companion in tasmania and after the franklins returned to england she tried to find him but couldnt and assumed he died. then when it seems like the ships are lost and jane starts campaigning for a rescue mission suddenly hickey shows up and for a few blissful years they are together again. he is older and quieter and has scars he wont explain, but hes still hickey and sophia still loves him. and then sir john comes back and fucks all of that up again.
sorry this was meant to be about gender dynamics in my deranged catboy au but i got distracted by hickey (as per usual)
#hope this answers some things#it might also raise more questions#which i probably have answers to#bc i think way too much about this au#Purror and Erebark
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
So The Woman Called Fujiko Mine feels like an argument against itself.
I don't mean that in broad metaphorical terms. I mean that this show quite literally looks into the camera and tells you that the very concept behind it is bullshit. It's a grim and gritty re-imagining of Lupin III that seems to regard grim and gritty re-imaginings as little more than contrived nonsense, something hastily slapped onto a perfectly fine piece of media with no regard for what makes that media work in the first place. I don't think I've ever seen a more purposefully self-defeating work of fiction in my life.
What do I mean by this? Well, the basis of this show seems to be explaining the backstory of Fujiko Mine, the Lupin franchise's resident femme fatale cat burglar. What kind of experiences, it asks, would lead someone to sleeping and stealing their way through life? And this being a supposed grim and gritty re-imagining with Naked Titties and Fucking, the answer it comes to is, of course, horrific sexual trauma. The final arc descends into this ludicrously overcomplicated conspiracy involving hallucinogenic drugs, human experimentation, possibly actual magic, all to explain how Fujiko was horribly abused as a child and repressed those awful memories through a life of cheap sex and fancy trinkets. Even the OP screams this point at the start of every episode: "The act of stealing lets her forget everything and keep her memories at a safe distance." She covers herself in jewels and men as if they can hide her shameful, scarred body from the horrors it was forced to endure, a lifetime of cheap thrills to escape the pain of her womanhood.
Except just when you think the whole conspiracy justifying this backstory can't get any more complicated, it overcomplicates itself even further to reveal that none of this actually happened. Turns out, Fujiko's repressed trauma memories were false memories implanted in her when she was already an adult as part of some roundabout cry for help from the actual victim. And in fact, Fujiko was already a sex-loving, treasure-grabbing femme fatale by the time those false memories were put in her. Not because of trauma, but because she just likes having sex and stealing things. And I'm not exaggerating when I say she all but looks the audience in the face and outright says, "See? Isn't it stupid and condescending trying to force a contrived rape narrative onto a female character just because she likes sex? Why can't I just be a bombshell who loves what she does without having to feel ashamed of it? Or does it only count as feminism if characters like me have to suffer for our sexiness?"
It's a genuinely wild subversion that feels a decade ahead of its time. But therein lies the problem: you still have to sit through a mostly straightforward grim and gritty deconstruction to get to the point where it points out how stupid most grim and gritty deconstructions are. And if the point was to criticize those kinds of stories just by being an example of one, well, all I can say is that it succeeded. It absolutely feels at times like a pointlessly dark and edgy paint job slapped on top of a story for the sake of feeling "mature" when all that really means is lots of rape and uncomfortable sexual hangups. Did I mention there's a Class S episode where Fujiko becomes the teacher at an all-girls school and proceeds to have affairs with multiple of her students? Because that happens, and I could feel my skin trying to crawl off my body the entire time.
Like I said in an earlier post, this isn't fanservice in the traditional sense. In fact, with the ending reveal in mind, the presentation and execution is almost maddeningly confrontational, as if daring you not to see it for the cheap shock value it is. You can almost hear Yamamoto and Okada laughing behind the scenes as you scramble to find an explanation for why all this misery porn needed to exist, only for the show itself to say "Actually, yeah, this was all pretty tasteless and crass, who would actually want Fujiko's story to be like this?" But it's still a frustrating fucking show to watch in the moment because all that possibly intentional metafictional subversion just reads as straight-up boring edgy grimdark before you're shown the man behind the curtain. Or, woman behind the curtain. Whatever.
I dunno, I don't think I can give this one a proper score. 5/10, I guess? Ask me in a few months and see if that's changed at all. For now, I'm more than happy to polish off my Yamamoto back catalogue and move onto something else. Which 2013 show will take its place, I wonder?
#anime#tabw#the anime binge watcher#the woman called fujiko mine#lupin the third#lupin III#2012 aniwatch
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
A funnyman's recap on Blue Archive
Preamble
Welcome to Kivotos.
A gigantic, sprawling supercity that features a variety of biomes within it. Those include
Snowfield
Snowy pine forest
Desert
Lush
Mountains
And whatever the fuck else we haven't seen probably a lava lake
It is a city full of technology at a similar level of advancement to ours, although with some notable exceptions.
Said notable exceptions are robot people, which are considered much like anyone else running about. Apart from them, there are also dog people and cat people. Effectively, bipedal pugs and shibas are the most commonly seen animal people alongside.
Lastly we have humans, or "humans", really, as some of them have animal traits of elf ears. They are represented by solely girls.
With halos.
About that.
It is both my own as well as the fandoms theory that these girls are manifestations of concepts, either mythical or scientific. Some are more obvious references than others, but only after the relevant key word is dropped and we go from there.
As an example: this is Asuna
(I totally did not include this because I accidentally put in a poll and couldn't figure out how to remove it shut up)
Asuna's personal shtick is being lucky. As in, stupidly lucky. We are talking "can pull maximum rarity ten times in a row in a gacha" level lucky. As her school, Millennium Academy, has a hat that reads "science" in bold letters, we can conclude she is manifested probability in the way of "luck". How she is as a character, I will elaborate in a different post (if you lot are even interested)
Anywho.
I did mention an academy, didn't I? Well yes, that is also a part of what Kivotos is: it's an academy city, run by large schools. This, of course, asks the question just how long these girls are in school.
Is it some simulation?
Is it deception?
Is it some sort of divine nature allowing time to progress several times slower than it usually would?
Probably the latter, which is why I will use this as an excuse to wax poetic about girls I think are hot. A very flimsy excuse, I am aware, and certainly not helped by the general reputation of the game...
But yeah, girls are hot, they might be timeless, sue me over liking fiction.
But yes, that's about it for the preamble to Blue Archive. Anything else worthwhile to mention can be combed over once I reach that part of the story where it's actually relevant.
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
Patreon Reward: Begging To Be Bred
Jaune has a problem. He swears that the girls on his team are seducing him and his willpower is not strong enough! Fortunately, they have a mission out in the field soon, so hopefully they have a chance to cool off...
As the team leader, only male, and only human member of Team JNPR, Jaune was used to dealing with odd things.
Everyone had either given him the stink eye, thinking the worst of him due to him being the only male in a team of women (in a position of authority, no less), incredible jealousy, or given him looks of sympathy. He wasn’t really sure why, considering he dealt with seven sisters growing up.
Oh, don’t get him wrong, each of the three girls were a true beauty. Pyrrha Nikos, an apparent four-time champion in Mistral (he couldn’t say anything about that, since he knew nothing really about the tournament scene. It had never interested him.) who was a Tiger Faunus, her trait being a red tail with black stripes, with long red hair held in a ponytail and bright, expressive emerald eyes.
Next to her was Lian Ren, a svelte beauty of a feline faunus, her trait being the ears emerging from her hair (from the ear shape, he suspected panther), with long black hair, broken by a single pink streak in the front bangs, and surprisingly pink eyes.
The final member of his team was Nora Valkyrie, a bombastic and incredibly energetic (and curvaceous) cow faunus, her trait being a small pair of horns on her head (although a tiny part of his mind whispered that her trait was really attached to her chest, due to her bust size) who seemed to ignore any idea of the concept of “personal space”.
To be honest, it wasn’t bad. They weren’t too different than wrangling his sisters, save the fact that he, well, he wasn’t related to them, so it made certain instances more awkward as they got more comfortable with each other. So much more awkward.
Like the times that Lian needed help stretching after class! He had no issue with that (he knew he was always sore as hell afterwards as well) but the fact that she wore only a sports bra and thong of all things made it awkward! Never mind the moaning and pushing her rear back against his pelvis! He swore it was on purpose!
Or the time (times, it happened multiple times…) where Pyrrha had forgotten to take in clothes or a towel into the bathroom when she showered, and came out naked as the day she was born and glistening with water, her muscles rippling and sizable bust and bottom bouncing as she walked shamelessly to get a towel and clothes.
Or Nora asking him for help with something personal, only for him to get the shock of his life when she whipped off her top and bra and she asked him for help milking herself, as she had gotten ‘extremely backed up’ and needed to have her breasts drained. That had been a long and hard (on several different levels) two hours, as not only did Nora have a lot of milk in her chest, like she said, the constant quivering and shaky “Moos” she released were hell on his libido.
If he didn’t know those three so well, he’d swear that they wanted him to do something…but no, he knew that they were just lonely and somewhat forgetful girls. Lian and Nora were orphans and often looked over by everyone, and Pyrrha had been put on an unfortunate pedestal by practically everyone. They simply trusted him not to be the same.
There couldn’t be more to it.
~
“OH MY GOD!” Nora exploded, tugging at her hair as she fell forward, burying her face into Lian’s lap. “WHY IS HE SO DENSE!?” she whined softly as Lian gently ran her fingers through her hair, rubbing the base of her horns tenderly.
“Now, Nora…it’s not Jaune’s fault…not really. You know he has seven sisters, so what we have been doing is probably something that he’s seen before…that, and we honestly haven’t actually overtly said anything about our interest, so it’s just as much our fault, if not more, for not telling him.” she soothed, even though Lian’s cat ears were twitching in agitation at the fact that their team leader hadn’t taken them and dicked them down yet.
Pyrrha was pacing about the dorm, her tail flicking back and forth slowly like the predator that she was on the prowl, her eyes narrowed. Her nostrils were flared as she drew in the scent of the room, and more importantly, Jaune’s scent.
All three were currently agitated and on edge, as their heat cycles were upon them, and while this normally meant between one to two weeks of intense discomfort, they now had someone that they could trust to help their needs…
They just had to get the lovably dense man to realize it!
Pyrrha froze, her tail going straight and still as she tilted her head, a slow smile forming on her face. “We have a training mission coming up…” she purred, getting both Lian’s and Nora’s attentions.
She turned to them, her eyes almost glowing with eagerness. “Listen to me very carefully~”
~
Juane hummed softly as he set his tent up. They were in a rather secluded area, one that they had placed traps around to warn them of any excess Grimm heading their way. While they were still technically in the village they had cleansed the Grimm from, the inn had been full, so they were in a slightly secluded and isolated area away, but still close enough to get food the next morning before heading back towards the pick up area.
As he crawled into his tent and laid down to sleep, he was oblivious to three sets of hungry eyes watching him.
~
LIck! Slurp! Smack! Jaune gasped, his eyes snapping open and his body lurching upwards as pleasure filled him, emanating from his groin. He glanced down, sure that he’d be met with the sight of a soaked blanket and boxers that he would have to hide from his three-
JauneLancelotArc.Exe Has Stopped. Would You Like To Reboot?
Before him were his teammates. His three sexy teammates. His three, sexy, naked teammates, all their curves bared as they rubbed their faces against his dick, pink tongues slipping from their mouths and lapping at his shaft and balls, sending great amounts of pleasure through him.
He gasped as their trailed their tongues over his shaft, starting at the base and working their way up towards his leaking tip, their tongues doing a seeming tango against each other on the sensitive helmet, making him release a louder, choked sound, one that made their attentions turn towards him.
Emerald, Pink, and Turquoise eyes stared up at him in lust. Somehow, Jaune found his voice, shaky as it was. “G-Girls? W-What’s going on?” he gasped out as Pyrrha and Lian licked at the weeping head of his cock again, being able to tell that their feline traits were more than just external; their tongues slightly raspy and dragging along his cock in such a way that made him thrash, even more when Nora buried her face into his balls and audibly inhaled, a slutty moan leaving her lips.
“Jaune…we need you…our pussies are so empty…our wombs need to be filled…we want to be bred…please help us~” the fact that it was LIan who was begging threw Juane, just as much, if not more, than the fact that Pyrrha of all people was shamelessly sniffing and rubbing her face against his cock and Nora was happily sniffing his balls, wiggling her fat ass as she did so.
A gentle caress to his abdomen brought his attention back to Lian, who had sat up somewhat, her modest (but still sizable) breasts jiggling, her dusky light brown nipples hard as diamonds as they pointed at him. “We all want you, Jaune~ Please? We’ll be good girls for you, we promise~”
Jaune swallowed at the earnest, hungry looks that the three gave him. But…they needed him. How could he say no?
~
“AH! AH! AH! YES! OH FUCK, JAUNE! FILL MY TIGHT LITTLE COW CUNT! BLOAT MY WOMB!” Nora cried out as he fucked her on her back, her legs wrapped around his hips as he thrust firmly in and out of her tight, burning little pussy, feeling the folds of flesh tighten and loosen in a rhythmic fashion as he moved.
~
“YES! YES! MORE! OH, GODS! DON’T STOP!” Lian wailed as she arched her back as Jaune hovered over her, pounding into her pussy with great intensity, wet smacks filling the tent as his balls smacked into the underside of her ass cheeks as he thrust with everything he had.
~
“MORE! MORE! WANTED THIS SINCE I GOT TO KNOW YOU! WANTED YOU TO MAKE ME YOURS! WANTED TO MAKE YOU MINE! DON’T PULL OUT! I WANT MY WOMB FULL OF YOUR SEED! MAKE IT LAND ONLY YOU WILL EVER CONQUER!” Pyrrha screamed, being the most animated of the three, thrusting with Jaune, her own hands not idle as she roamed his body, her hungry eyes glowing with joy at the fact that she finally got what she wanted. Gotten the man she wanted.
And some pride sisters as well, since her moaning and well fucked teammates were curled up on either side of them.
A Jaune came again, for what must have been the fifth time in their mating, Pyrrha tipped over the edge with a scream of passion, her womb so full she swore she could feel his cum swirling around inside her.
As she slumped down, she started purring happily as Jaune followed, gathering her, Lian, and Nora up and cradling them all close.
They might be tired now, what with their heats sated properly for the first time in their lives, but they were going to continue in the morning, no matter who heard them!
#Patreon Reward#Begging To Be Bred#Jaune Arc#Pyrrha Nikos#Nora Valkyrie#Lie Ren#Rule 63 Lie Ren#Tiger Faunus Pyrrha#Cat Faunus Ren#Cow Faunus Nora#Heat Cycles#Jaune Has Trouble Seeing Signals#He Has Seven Sisters Okay?#It's Not Easy
252 notes
·
View notes
Text
Master Recs: The "N64" Trilogy (2023)
Pseudoregalia
Let us muse over a very small, three-dimensional Metroidvania game stylistically fashioned after the Nintendo 64 era of graphical fidelity. It stars a deliciously polygonal rabbit-y, goat-y, cat-like girl.
Now, I am playing this on the fabled Steam Deck. It runs and controls smoothly on the platform but you might require to fiddle with the video settings as the default configuration is slightly blurry due to a very specific and fascinating reason.
It turns out Pseudoregalia vaunts a certain level of depth in its technical customization, one that's surprisingly fun to manipulate. There's an option to toggle on or off a retro graphical scale and character movement rate, which graciously emulate the old school console experience. You can also manually reduce or augment the maximum framerate for the whole game. You could theoretically play something that looks like a 30 fps 3D Platformer from 1997 or the most HD upscaled version thereof at 144 fps, or everything in between! The default, blurry configuration comes as a result of the aforementioned retro scaling clashing with the 4K resolution in full screen mode.
This is the first and last time in recorded human history that I will ever be this enamoured with "specs talk."
The point is, we have a darling gem with a cultivated aesthetic, a good level of polish: it will look "right" regardless of your favoured settings. I'm impressed by the extra layer of work placed in the subtle use of limited framerates for the character's movement.
Pseudoregalia captures the idea, the abstract concept and low-poly charm of a N64 title with a gameplay that recalls your memory of it, rather than the unwieldy reality. I say this as someone who doesn't have nostalgia for early 3D graphics: the game makes them look spiffy.
I shall be honest, this is normally not the sort of title I would enjoy playing, as precise platforming and traversal puzzles are my nemesis. I mentioned afore the level of polish, which is generally consistent, but some of the movement upgrades you get (such as the jump/wall kick) can be rather finicky to master. In that sense, be wary that the game does not openly provide you with tutorials for the moves that require more finesse, choosing instead to hide an additional set of instructions in the inventory descriptions. It's "old school", you see.
Older versions were bereft of maps thus making exploration a burden for those like me who are directionally challenged - both in games and in real life.
Regardless, I kept getting drawn by its world, its somber atmosphere, its tight gameplay and especially its protagonist, Sybil.
An appealing design for your avatars goes a long way in ensuring an emotional connection to them and Sybil just so happens to have one of the most striking and instantly recognizable appearances I can fathom. It's a pleasure to look at her go! Furthermore, I would posit that she has a lot in common with my precious videogame fluffy boy, Klonoa - and I do I mean, a lot. I will not elaborate. If you get it, you get it.
In conclusion, Pseudoregalia is an impressively put together jam. It's easy to pick up yet punishing to handle, it's fun and fascinating in spite of its more irritating aspects. The best overall critique I can give it is that it made me want to keep trying, and trying, and trying, until I eventually became good enough to complete it several times and even beat the insanely hard Time Attacks.
In short: game is good. Play it.
---
Corn Kidz 64
If I had a nickel for every time a throwback 3D Platform game starring a cute goat-like creature managed to grab my attention, I would have a whopping three nickels! Anyway, here is Corn Kidz 64, an artistically verosimile homage to the Rareware games you probably remember.
Deliciously stylized polygons welcome both you and I into a quirky mindscape. You play as a rude little prick named Seve who's having a vivid nachos related dream but has to contend with various bollocks - as it's often the case.
If you are even marginally familiar with all the Kanjo-Bazooies and Konkey Dongs out there then you will recognize its sphere of influences right away. It's a proper tribute to that era of gaming up to the inclusion of the "correct" low video resolution settings and insane completion requirements. There is much puzzling and platforming to be had, tactical traversal and secrets-within-secrets to bamboozle and titillate your gamer's lizard brain. Genre freaks will feel very welcome here.
I will say that I find the character design especially pleasing. Aesthetically, I would place it somewhere in between Rayman. Belgian comic book artist André Franquin and web strips from twenty years ago or more. It's expressive, to say the least.
As a sign of good will from the game's part, this is the track that greets you as you plunge into the realm of your dreams of childhood:
Corn Kidz 64 is a short, fun experience, bedazzled by tight controls, surreal atmosphere and "Early Internet" humour. It does not overstate its welcome and only occasionally gets immensely frustrating. Its dedication to the N64 ethos is both a boon and a detriment, in that sense. Let me put it this way: I shall not be doing a 110% completion run any time soon.
---
Cavern of Dreams
As a direct result of me wanting more, here is Cavern of Dreams. Yet another N64 aesthetically driven title that came out last year but was promptly overshadowed by Funny Goat Game and Sexy Goat Game - as far as my own pop cultural myopia is concerned, that is.
It is a small yet multilayered Collect-A-Thon with an emphasis on exploration rather than combat or complex platforming. There is no health bar and there are no traditional enemies. There is a handful of puzzles here and there, some of which might be legitimate head scratchers. The dragon baby is cute.
I do have a couple of gripes with this one.
Playing this game is, in a word, annoying. It is bothersome how weighted and limited the movement is, it is fastidious how the character collision is in relation to the environment, it is aggravating how it all affects the gameplay in small yet noticeable ways.
Here's an example: you can use the traditional ground pound to gain extra height. However, in order to do so, you have to keep pressing the attack button while in midair. The problem with that is the game still registers it as an attack when you do so. As such, if you happen to be hugging a wall, atop a small ledge, this action will inevitably cause your character to hit said wall and propel you backwards, resulting in you falling to your doom. This happened constantly.
Generally speaking, the control scheme doesn't feel ideally tailored to an experience that requires precise platforming. A repeated offender would be grabbing onto climbable ropes. Which is to say, sometimes it just doesn't happen. You'll float towards a rope and, if the collision isn't pixel-perfect, you will miss it entirely. Also, Baby is unable to jump above once he climbs all the way to the top, half the time. The later levels are worse in that regard as they need some amount of skill.
Speaking of which, something that will always make me consider quitting a game in a fit of rage is being sucked down a drain that expels me into a different area, forcing me to walk all the way back to where I was before. Once again, annoying is the word.
All that said, the saving grace of Cavern of Dreams lies in the exquisitely crafted, imaginative stages that compose the dreamlike tapestry of the game's aesthetics: living airborne vessels, desolate ice kingdoms, nightmarish art galleries that twist and distort your senses.
The use of colour hues, sounds and deliberately non-contiguous spaces create this palpable atmosphere of both wonder and anxiety. A welcoming world may turn weird and alienating. A dream may turn into a nightmare.
There is a depth beneath the surface presentation that is absolutely worth experiencing. I really wanted to like this game but, alas, I'm left with mostly mixed feelings. Regardless, it's an adorable title with some tinges of darkness and it might just be for you!
---
As a conclusive note, I find myself enthralled by the subtle similarities these games share as well as their abundant differences. All of them are stylistically reminiscent of a specific bygone era whilst being perfectly distinct in presentation, and they all are about Dreams...
They are about exploring dreamscapes, lands where subconscious thoughts and memories materialize in daunting vistas of a forlorn past, comically bizarre hyper-realities from an active imagination or an infant's idea of the world around itself.
Pondering about the familiarity of it all fills me both with comfort and melancholy: the parallelism of Dream, Childhood and Gaming. The distant memories of youth in correlation to the experience of videogame escapism are akin to a dream from which we are expected to wake... Well, now I just want to gush about Klonoa again!
In fact, I would go as far as to say that Corn Kidz 64's "plot resolution" feels like a direct parody of Door to Phantomile's ending, and it gets funnier the more I think about it.
---
A/N:
Thank you for reading.
Follow Madhog on:
YouTube
Twitter
Bluesky
Blogger
#twitter#corn kidz 64#pseudoregalia#cavern of dreams#dreasm#klonoa#platforming#3d#n64#steam#review#master recs
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
YAPFEST AHEAD, BE WARNED.
making a seperate blog for this because i dont feel like my main one is safe for this specific topic. please do not try to guess or out my main here. this is a blog where i specifically talk about gender thoughts & confusion i have, because i dont have resources to talk to anybody in real life. as of writing this i am questioning whether or not i am transfem/a girl, i currently call myself agender on main but in reality im still dealing with the question of whether im full on transfem or not.
for the record i am a teenager in highschool, i began questioning my gender when i was 11 years old, there were some obvious signs before then but i didnt necessarily have the knowledge or words to piece those together. ive identified as various nonbinary labels over the past few years, starting at demiboy then shifting towards countless xenogenders*, starting off with space themed ones then becoming more accustomed to cutesy pastel themed ones. i actually used to run a blog that coined terms like those, i ditched it but it definitely still lingers. now im agender on main & questioning transfem on the side, basically i slowly & extremely hesitantly accepted the fact i dont feel like a boy. ive only recently considered falling under the girly umbrella somewhere near the beginning of highschool when i had started realizing that lots of my favorite content creators are also trans girls, most notably patricia taxxon.
(*yes, i do support xenogenders & neopronouns.)
but i dont necessarily feel like a girl either? ok well sometimes i do but in a way that rejects most ideas of what girliness is? i feel like theres a distinction between wanting to do typically girly things like paint my nails, wear dresses, etc & actually feeling as though i am a girl or would be happier living as one. i dont like being called he/him pronouns (not like i have a choice) but i also dont like being called she/her, i usually gravitate towards they/them, it/its & any *edgy" neos like bone/bones & bat/bats. my relationship with femininity distinctly goes against traditional femininity, both cis & trans forms of the sense. i have a sorta emo furry thing going on as opposed to the usual pink cat thigh highs bridget stereotype.
i am unhappy being percieved as a boy, but terrified of being percieved as a girl due to all the societal troubles that comes with it like getting hit on by creeps, stared at, groped, all that shit. not to mention im already black, diagnosed autistic & a furry, why add another target on my back? i feel like the term girl doesnt even describe me all that well, its deeper than that. but neither does nonbinary despite me clearly not falling under or even believing in the gender binary most of the time.
theres also a part of me that wants to just ditch this question along with the concept of gender as a whole, hence identifying as agender on main. most times i do see binary gender norms & the like as bullshit, but the feminine feelings creep up like a tarantula & i begin questioning myself, while still despising the idea of gender. i think part of this hatred towards said binary comes from the fact i am therian/identify as nonhuman & see human binary concepts as something holding me back. from what exactly? i dont know, it just is.
also related to my therianthropy, i find myself conflating species dysphoria with gender dysphoria & confusing myself because of it since the thoughts directly contradict eachother. one moment i find my body hair ugly because its masculine, then the next i find it ugly because i wish i had more to emulate fur. one moment i wanna be socially percieved as feminine, then the next i dont even wanna be percieved as the same species as anybody around me. it makes exploring my gender really confusing because the thoughts attack eachother while also trying to attack me.
i will say though that the nonhuman thoughts are way stronger than the feminine urges. i dont care about feminizing my voice in the slightest apart from my aspirations towards being a voice actor, i dont shave nor do i want to, im indifferent towards my gen*tals because nobody in public should be seeing or thinking about them. however i do absolutely despise being referred to as the name i was given at birth, alongside any possible variations of it, including neutral or feminine nicknames/alt spellings/etc. i would much rather be called either scarlet, chimera*, or cherry, all of which i picked because they both suited my emo theming, i hadnt even thought of how girly any of them sounded while picking them.
(*chimera also happens to be the name of a notorious creep within a fandom im in, complete coincidence. i might refrain from going by that so i dont get mistaken for them.)
theres also this conflicting second hand antidysphoria, i guess? specifically towards people that remind me of the very things i despise about myself. i have a sort of obsessive fascination with the idea of how somebody could find solace in the very things that plague my existence, for example transmascs that pick my deadname as their new chosen name, those with interests in media thats been permanently tainted in my eyes due to abusers, etc. theres a weird beauty in it, it makes me want to sort of embody them in order to lessen the burden those things have on me. i know if i explained this to somebody directly theyd assume im a freak or something, which is honestly a somewhat reasonable take. just putting it here for more background i guess.
what do you people think? is this a normal case of gender questioning? do any other queer therians experience this weire conflicting double edged dysphoria? am i a fucking lunatic? am i just a confused child being brainwashed? let me know & feel free to ask questions.
#gender questioning#trans questions#transfem#therianthropy#species dysphoria#therian thoughts#enby things#nonbinary things#transfem things#trans things#i think
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
When You Wish Upon a Well is a fun episode.
I like the obstacle course. It looked fun! And Roland practicing with Sofia was hilarious because he was worse than she was LOL!
Sofia makes an adorable cat! And I love the darling shade of purple. I think that's my favorite form of her, other than human, of course.
"I'm looking for a dog.“ "I'm looking for a cat." LOL! How often do we see James and Miranda moments? Those are always fun.
Here's another hint that Sofia visits Cedric often. She seemed to know he had a spell to transform animals to humans. And she seemed to know exactly where it was in his spell book.
Speaking of Cedric, it's odd that he didn't recognize the Amulet of Avalor around the cat's neck. Maybe he thought it was just another animal collar (because what royal wouldn't give their cat something fancy?). Or maybe he was so preoccupied he didn't look at it. Whatever the case,, it's hilarious that Wormwood recognized it.
Love the song and the chase. Sofia saying Rex liked her was hilarious because... He started chasing her. LOL!
I think the concept of the wishing well is fascinating. There are so many things writers can do with it. I've read a few good stories involving it.
I think Sofia was too quick to forgive Amber. But she got a lot of practice out of being a cat, so...
Amber's reaction when Roland started sneezing at the end was funny.
Clover and his life supply of radishes. LOL! Probably the best wish that thing ever granted, other than restoring Sofia.
What I don't like...
If you guess Amber, you're correct. Is that girl ever NOT self centered and spoiled? "I want Daddy to play with ME, so I'll just carelessly make a wish so my innocent sister will be turned into a cat." Yeah, pretty much. Roland should have grounded her instead of playing with her at the end.
Also, as a cat lover, I'm a little sad that Roland is so allergic to cats. It's common enough in the real world.
All in all, this episode is in 9th place on my rating list.
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
*sigh*
Ok so I have two rants about two of my favorite character of all time Alear and Rafal.
I'll start with dragon blorbo first. I get that people are still sad that F!Alear wasn't choosen as the protag of the manga but I cannot help but laugh at people saying that "the manga would have been better/more popular with her" or "that Ivy getting captured would not have happened with F!Alear" because in case you missed it : THEY ARE LITERALY THE SAME CHARACTER WITH DIFFERENT GENDER. Like yeah, I could get it if it was the Robin because those two have been written with kinda distinct personality. But the Alears ?! Their dialogue is word for word identitical, Male Alear even use the same dialect as his female counterpart which none of the male avatar before did. "But the voice acting" The voice acting is the voice acting, Rafal too sounds pretty different from japanese to English even though both are the same character. Heck English Etie and Japanese Eite have more distinct personalities then the Alears.
What happened with Ivy would have happened anyway because it's not tied to Alear's gender, you are the only one reducing Alear to his gender, it would have happened because Alear is literaly Hope incarnated. And now I wonder if people would even mind that change had F!Alear being the one helping Ivy instead of M!Alear cause again, it didn't happened for M!Alear to look heroic, this is the manga where M!Alear constantly gets turned into a silly wet cat falling into cartoony gag and getting beaten up by a 14 year old girl into gothic lolita fashion !! Engage's writers always wanted to make Alear a down on earth protag that is nothing special except for their birth and whose whole journey is about to prove themselves, they even claimmed that they made Alear into such a coward that Nintendo stepped in and told them they overdid it... but apparently Dimitri's rampage are ok.... anyway. I think the manga so far has been respecting this concept as well I see 0 reason for it to try to make Alear suddently a giga chad. I did noticed that in the manga Alear got more heroic moment then in the game such as the fact he doesn't wanna run away unlike in game or the fact he goes to help Lumera instead of leading to her death, go to save Alfred, kill Nelke himself, encourages Alcryst and then defends Ivy. I stress it defends because Alear only helped her gain some time alive, they only delayed the inevitable because I bet you that the Brodian nobility will make it as annoying as can be. Alear didn't saved her since she still is gonna have a trial. And tbh I wonder if the mangaka didn't try to make it end on a cliffhanger to encourage more people into buying the manga since it was right after that that he admitted he needed more people to show their support to the manga.
Male Alear isn't a "male fantasy trope" at all, in fact, his sweet personality that he shares with his female counterpat gets him to be seen as "effiminate" or "weak" or " whim" because "this is a woman's personality to be a coward crybaby, not a man's". I quote. The Alear's strengh as a character comes from their kindness and undying determination that lead them in never giving up and even defying death thirce !! Trying to make something as natural as them defending someone they sensed wasn't evil about "harmul trope to female and male fantasy" just shows you don't get what is considered sexist about said trope and why. Again, it's not "female character gets help from male character in time of her being weak is sexist". It's when the female character gets nothing more then that. When her entire character is reduced to just that, that it's not explored/developped in a meaningful way. Women are humans, saying they should refuse help from anyone or help from someone if that someone is a male is completely insane. It's also reduing strengh as being good at everything, superior to anyone in anything and needing no help which is very ironic considering this mean you suscribe to... Sombron's philosophy. Engage's theme is that it's through connection that you gain true strengh, that strengh rely on compassion for other and in having a strong mentality of always been hopefull for tomorow and overcoming your difficulty and never giving up on dream, this is something that both Alear illustrate perfectly.
So by suggesting that Ivy is weak because in a situation where she herself told Morion to kill her Alear steps in and therefore blame it on M!Alear being male... you are showing you completely missed the entire point the game was trying to make.
Male Alear being the protag is literaly just because the manga is a shounen, he is the same character as his female countepart.
Now unto the other one, manslaughtering blorbo.
Ok, remember what I said about how I was worried that there would be 2 tips of the extreme in reading Rafal's character ? Yeah... it happened... Now, marks my word, I am not saying you have to like Rafal, I can understand why you wouldn't considering the crimes he has committed but... seeing some takes about him rubs me kinda the wrong way....
Some people seems to believe that he is a spoiled brat raised by Sombron as believing he is the superior of his children, having a superiority complex, having completely traumatized Nel, not understanding how Alear and Nel can forgive him, that he is a bloodthirsty monster... well, to put it short that he is pure evil. Which he isn't. That goes completely against the point of his character.
Rafal was never raised by Sombron with the idea that he was the best of his children, that never happened. What happened is that Rafal lost his twin when he was very young and grow up believing that he was a defect. I know I joked about him having superiority complex, I know, but that's what it was. A joke. In reality what Rafal has developped is an inferiority complex that manifest in him pretending to be or feel superior, he is just acting arrogant and cunning but in reality how he feels inside is inferior and incomplete. He always wished to be the person to make someone else happy and complete it. He wished it for Nil and then Nel. Rafal isn't a "spoiled brat", he was just as much as Sombron's victim as Nel was, in fact, I realized how much Rafal and Lyon had in common because it was precisely the fact that Rafal was much more weaker psychologicaly speaking then his sister that made him an easy prey for Xenobron, taking advantages of his own self acceptances issues and other to cast a spell on him and bribe him in promising him the acknowledgement he always sought. As for the fact he is a bloodthirsty monster... ok look. Rafal did kill all the people of this other world that weren't already dead, I am not gonna act as if he didn't do something horrible by doing this. But not only does he actually sincerely regret his action and desesperately tries to make amends for it, but he didn't do it out of bloodlust, it's not Valter. He did it because he was manipulated by Sombron into believing that he could finally end his sufering if he did that. I already showed it in many post I made but Rafal in the Xenologue isn't the real Rafal, Gregory too point that out. The face he is pulling in chapter 5 of the Xenologue is very different from the one he pulls when he fights. Rafal enjoys competition, that doesn't make him a sadistic monster
In fact there is several instance showing that he has a heart. The fact he literaly break into tears and speaks like a child when Nel offered her life to save his, the lines he has in Somniel about how he regret what he did, his line if Gregory dies about him hoping he will get something fluffy, about how Madeline died to young or him missing Zelestia's presence because it's too quiet now. His cold facade is what it is just a facade which he admits to Camilla he put in front of Gregory, Alfred and even a bit with Alear because he feels as though he doesn't deserves forgiveness after what he did and thus doesn't deserves to befriend others.
As for why Alear forgave him... remmeber that Alear offered him to come to Somniel after Rafal declared he would try to bring back Nel. Which means that otherwise Alear would have accepted to let Nel and someone who shown that they regretted their actions all alone in a world full of dead people. What did you wanted Alear to do exactly ? To kill someone for whom Nel gave her life to freed and that showed that he was clearly sorry and ready to change his way ? That is absolutely not how Alear is and you know that. The only reason why Alear cannot forgive the likes of Sombron and Zephia is because they showed they were ready to change. Sombron was gonna repeat the same mistakes over and over again because he is unable to learn from his past and become a better person while Zephia is so stubborn that only when it was too late to repair her mistake did she realized the extent of her sins.
As for Nel, the reason why she forgave him is so obvious... she said it in the DLC herself. It's because without Rafal's presence by her side, she might have gone mad. She knew he wasn't Nil but the fact that he was by her side no matter what and even pretended to be her twin just to not make her sad for 1 000 years was very important for her and she also sensed that Rafal wasn't truly evil nor was he being entirely himself in that moment.
And then there is the other tendency that is to go : "oh my adorable blorbo who did nothing wrong and is pure and innocent what do you mean he is messed up NO HE ISN4T!!" is... yeah, look I love Rafal too but I am not gonna act as if he was the purest angel who did nothing wrong. Rafal is a disaster, he is a mess of a character, his got 1000 of problem and commited several attroticities, after all he lead an entire world to doom and killed his own siblings. Yeah he was manipulated and his traumatized and all that but those are just explanation as to why he did what he did, that doesn't excuse him. I am not gonna lie, of course if you see a traumatized child that lost at least 2 important person to him and is in the middle of an identity crisis and all that and you shouldn't be surprised that he becomes this easy to manipulate. You can't really say that it's not easy to convince a starving kid to use the baseball bat you lend him and try to break the glass of the bakery shop you just pointed at and steal all the bread and pastries it sell. But does it change the fact he did what he did ? Nay. If even the character himself is saying he wants to own what he did and pay for it, you know that this mean he himself is aware of how much he screwed. In fact, I am the one person who insist he already was aware that what he was doing was wrong and would lead him nowhere but he still did it anyway because he was this far gone and hopeless. That's even what made him developp those suicidal tendencies and lead him to feel even worse about himself. People who suffer from deep trauma that goes unhealed or unspoken for years are very complex, and Rafal has been dealing with this for 1 000 years. Unlike Nel who had his support, Rafal always though he was all alone because he though Nel's love was directed at Nil rather then him, acting as if his trauma wasn't a big part of why he did what he did is ignoring a very important aspect of his character.
"But in the Xenologue he told Alear to kill him because else he would committ the same mistakes again !" You know who else said that to Alear ? Ivy. In chapter 9, Ivy who was captured by Alear and Diamant after losing, told them to kill her, to which Alear refused to which Ivy told them that they should else she would go back to her country to attack them again. She said that just so that Alear would kill her. Likewise Rafal said that because he wanted to be killed since he kept alluding to it when he said he wanted the pain in his chest to finally go away. Besides it was literaly inevitable because what other punishement was left for him exactly ? Considering how many people I saw saying he would be better off dead, you and Rafal seem to agree on that, that death was the only punishement he could have. While imo it would have broken Nel to have killed someone she held as dear as Rafal that she would sacrifice her own life to free him from her father's influence.
Rafal is not a demon nor an angel. He isn't a good person, but he isn't evil either. He is in the "grey" zone one would say, I would say he is just a humane character : he is someone who did awful things because he felt awful about himself and decided to atone for his crimes. Like Ivy, like Hortensia, like Mauvier, like Veyle. And even like Alear. Case you forgot Alear had to kill many people and even member of Lumera's family because of Sombron. That's how real life works. No one is perfect, everyone commits mistake but no one is irredeemable. The only people who are irrdeemable or unforgivable are the person who refuses to admitt that they are in the wrong and to learn from it and grow as a person like a certain man with purple skin walking bare chested.
Truly evil people are people who cannot redeem themselves because they don't want to. The sole fact that Rafal wanted to pay for his crime and then vows to atone and better himself shows that there is at least some little tiny good in him. Again, if Rafal was just evil, he wouldn't be here at Somniel honoring his promise to Alear...(I am literaly quoting Alear, oh God)
If you don't like Rafal, I can respect that 1000%. You don't have to agree with me, but the main reason why I love him as a character is because he isn't someone you can sum up as being either pure evil or just a pupper of Sombron that in reality did nothing wrong and is just a tsun-tsun who likes sweets. This is erasing all the complexity he has as a character. What makes him fascinating is that he is not truly evil but not truly innocent either. Reading him only in one side of the spectrum is a great disservice to his character, when he is being much more complexed and nuanced then character evil just because. And woobiying him just because he is hot is even more unfair to his character. I repeat what I like about Rafal is that he committed 1000 of attrocities but that he still tries to atone for his crimes and that he cannot be reduced to any of the tip. In short, because he is a well written character and an interesting one.
The reason why I dislike comically evil character that have as much personality as a carboard is because they have as much personality as a cardboard, not because they did evil things. They are character, not real people. I can hate a character for being evil and like another for also being evil depending of how much appeal he has aka how well written and complex it can be. If Rafal was just " super evil guy who became good just because" he would be boring and also his narrative would make 0 sense... in short he would be Aversa. Likewise Rafal being this very innocent lad who did nothing wrong when he commited 1000 of attrocities is just as boring.
I am not asking you to like him, just to not reduce his character.
#fire emblem engage#fire emblem#fe engage#alear#fe alear#alear fire emblem#rafal fire emblem#fe rafal#I might have to gatekeep Lyon#seeing how people are about Rafal
5 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
wildgal
MOON•CHILD
d0gbrained
top surgery in the saw bathroom
gdpafasteners
GDPAFasteners
ottoz0ne
get in the zone
vvitalny
vvitalny