#*throws this in the void* go….be free…..

[the-effect-of-chaos]

Okay so, since you guys like the demisexual!Steve rambling I posted here, I figured I would keep the rambling going.

First of all, let's tap into Steve's not-so-sexuality-based-but-former-actions-based crisis. AGAIN this is 100% me projecting on my blorbo, but also feels very canon Steve to me, but the whole epiphany of "Oh hey I like dudes too" just doesn't really phase him. It's more like a hindsight, "so that's why" moment for him, then it is a crisis.

He had such a close relationship with Tommy that it really isn't such a stretch to think that if they fooled around any "as practice for girls no homo" he would have felt those tingly feelings he later only finds in Nanacy and then of course Eddie.

Scenario time!

Let's say they are in 8th grade wanting to test kissing, maybe they even get as far as handjobs by first year highschool. But imagine the HURT Steve would feel when Tommy and Carol finally got together and Tommy cut him off. (I know people enjoying them being a throuple and I have thoughts about how that could hurt even more when he breaks off with them but that is for a different post). Maybe he does end up having a threesome with them, and hey THE FEELINGS ARE BACK until he sleeps with a different girl hopeful that this time is gonna feel right ANNNND they're gone again.

He would be gutted, and wouldn't have a clue why. Not until five years later when he realises he is on his way to falling in love with a scrappy wet rat of a nerdy metal head. Looking back he has the "Oh" moment and rather than freak out about it, just slides on into a full blown crisis of "Oh my god I was SUCH a HYPOCRITE how can I ever show him or Jonathan my face again" etc.

Robin has soooo much fun talking him out of that one.

My reasoning for this is simple, Steve of s4 would not care about being considered queer. He is more settled into who he is and what he wants to be by then. He's broken free from the expectations of those that would have influenced him otherwise, plus his best friend is a lesbian. He knows! Knows! That being queer is not a world ending thing. So why should he worry about it? If anything it just made everything 'click' and settle something he didn't know was wrong.

So now we enter the Confident Biromantic Steve era.

Now to throw in something new, a Gay/Bisexual Eddie who is DEMIROMANTIC.

Eddie, who has a crush on Steve that never wavers. Even when he tries to redirect it. Eddie, who has had a few awkward fumbling sexual encounters with either sex and yet while the sex itself was fine, he never developed stronger feelings for. Eddie who asks he AroAce Uncle for guidance but doesn't really get exactly what he was looking for.

Eddie who when he finally gets with Steve is bowled over by how deeply he feels. Eddie who is so overcome with love, adoration and pure devotion for Steve he finally believes he has found his soulmate.

Seriously though I need y'all to @ me because I am just currently yelling all my Aspec headcanons into the void right now.

Like an BiAro Jonathan and of course AroAce Wayne my beloved.

If you want more send me asks! DM me to scream about them. Comments and screaming in the tags is so very welcome it is encouraged.

[acaciapines]

If possible I would VERY much like snippets or more info on that au because that sounds SO SICK

Poinsettia imposter syndrome is REAL

so your heart au was born when stars said 'wouldnt it be funny if settia had its own body so it was just this 12 year old facing down secret bosses trying to protect noelle' and then we made it literally so fucking sad. the main idea behind it is that at some point toriel and carol sign up to be foster parents as a way of. not 'moving on' from the kids they lost, but that's certainly how asriel and noelle interpret it <3 noelle here remembers kris and dess so when poinsettia joins the family she very much resents it and sees it as her mom like, replacing kris and dess with this new kid she can mold to her tastes bc clearly noelle isnt her mother's favorite child.

like in canon noelle has a real rocky relationship with her mom...a lot of my carol ideas WERE made before we met her in canon so stuff is subject to change but the idea here is that like, okay one in drk unlike in canon deltarune there IS no getting dess back, bc her being presumed dead is a LOT more final than it is in canon, so carol isnt really trying to bring her back bc theres nothing left, right? and the way she deals with this is like. shes not talking about it. she very much holds her emotions so close, so like, in noelle's eyes her mom just moved the fuck on from her dead daughter and nibling without a care in the world. replaced them with this new human kid. it is even wearing kris's old clothes.

(also with the new chapters drop i had the terrible terrible idea of carol maybe wanting to do something with the dark worlds. trying to find dess and kris's bodies if nothing else. and. i mean. she needs a human soul to close the fountains, doesnt she. and poinsettia is this human kid. this unrelated human kid she has no attachment to.

of course this fails bc carol DOES get attached to poinsettia. but.)

ANYWAYS the main idea of your heart is that poinsettia's life has sucked so badly up until this point that this is like the best home it has ever been in. carol and toriel are actually really good foster moms to it. noelle and asriel fucking hate it so so so so much but mostly they just ignore it and leave it out and poinsettia is holding out hope that they can be friends one day, taking all their dislike and trying to smile through it. even having good foster moms isnt enough because it is so clear that whenever toriel or carol are affectionate on it that just pisses noelle and asriel off more.

noelle's arc on her part is that. on top of all the dark world stuff going on (which poinsettia does get involved in--it sneaks out after her one night, discovers castle town, and now not only does noelle have to share her family but her FRIENDS, too, this one place that just belonged to her not even hers anymore, so long as this god damned kid follows her into it), she has to deal with her slow realization that like. all this hatred she's putting onto poinsettia? thats just because it is the easiest target. and especially when dess comes back and noelle's life starts to untangle even more (bc remember she didnt repress kris and dess here), she is really truly hit with the fact that like. shes been so fucking awful to poinsettia and it still looks up to and loves her and how is she supposed to be a good big sister to it after all of this?

theres for sure more if you wanna ask other questions but you asked for snippets HERE ARE SOME SNIPPETS. mostly i write for noelle and stars for poinsettia but not always. under the cut bc. i mean. its long.

from the first your heart fic by stars (@hyperfixations-go-brr)

Hesitantly, you pull open the door and squint into the darkness, trying to let your eyes adjust from the semi-lit living room to the dark outside. Oddly far away, you can just make out the silhouette of long hair and antlers. You were right about it being Noelle going down the stairs earlier, then, but. Why is she all the way down the driveway, turning to head into the rest of town? It’s so late, and Miss Toriel would know if she had a club meeting, right? Someone in the family always drives her to the track meets she goes to. Maybe she’s checking the mail for some reason? You don’t know where their mailbox is, so it could be that, but can’t it wait until the morning? You take a deep breath. You’ll just go to the end of the driveway and try to see where she disappears to, you tell yourself as you tug on your shoes. Plus, this way you can get a look at the stars and maybe relax enough to go to sleep once you get back! And it won’t be a problem, because none of them will ever know! You step out into the chilly night air and kind of wish you had a jacket you could take with you. Oh well, you won’t be long! Just to the end of the driveway, then you’ll come right back up. You open the door more and see Noelle's silhouette disappear around the turn. You pull the door shut behind you as gently as possible and head down the path. It’ll only be a minute, you promise

it was not a minute <3

the poinsettia & noelle & asriel relationship by me

As it reaches out to grab another handful of puzzle pieces, it looks to Asriel and Noelle on the other side of the kitchen table, giggling together. Asriel’s laptop is open between them but Poinsettia can only see the back of it, which has a bunch of rainbowy stickers.               “You’re gonna—” Noelle is saying, shoving as Asriel as she looks at something on the screen, “Azzy, I keep telling you, stop checking the cameras so much!” “But they’re trying to kill us!” “And they’ll kill us faster if you waste all our battery! Here, gimme—” Noelle does…something. Probably on the laptop. Like it said, it kinda can’t see what they’re doing. “Look, just stop freaking out and we’ll be fine. There’s only two hours left.” “You’re such a backseat gamer,” Asriel mutters, though he must do what she says ‘cause Noelle makes a sorta satisfied sound. “Being bossed around by my baby sister.” “You bet!” Noelle scoots back to her own seat as Asriel reclaims the spot of controller-of-the-laptop. “You wanted to do this.” “I mostly wanted to not go to class,” Asriel says, but he’s grinning, and Noelle is grinning, and it… It… It. Wants. Poinsettia looks back down to its puzzle piece pile. Sorts out a few of the blue pieces to add to the blue it’s trying to build. It wants, it thinks, to get up and go sit over there. Where it can see the laptop too. It doesn’t have to play!!! Just…look… Asriel laughs at something Noelle says. Poinsettia pushes around a beat-up blue piece. Its edges are all bent up so it won’t fit anywhere in the puzzle. Which means it’s never gonna fit anywhere ever. What are you playing? maybe it could ask. And sit down and sure it would be real crowded but it would be okay. It might say like Nelle what game is this. And then she’d smile and tell it. And Asriel could ruffle it’s hair like he does to Noelle and it would shriek-laugh Azzy like she does and. It would. It… It stands up from the table and pushes in its chair, real hard. The wood feet scrape against the floor. Noelle is shaking Asriel’s shoulders as he swears at something on the screen. Neither of them look up. They keep not looking up when it stomps right past them, out into the living room.

settia and carol by stars

Now you crawl back onto the couch, closer to her, looking at the various tabs on her screen. You think she has an email application open, as well as a handful of other tabs that you can’t really tell what they are. None of it makes sense to you, but you like to watch her type smoothly on the keyboard, the sound quiet and pleasant to you. You could fall asleep, honestly. You wish her white noise machine sounded like this, and not that awful static-y sound that overwhelmed the room. (You aren’t going to ask her to turn it off though, that would be rude, so you just cover your head with the blanket they gave you to block it out.) You hesitantly lean against her side, just to watch her work, and she doesn’t say anything or push you off or glare at you, so you stay. Your presence can’t be too bothersome, as she keeps typing without much of a reaction at all. You’re really, really sleepy. Which makes sense, you never really get the best sleep, its not the fault of anybody here, its just how you are. You either wake up anytime someone gets up (which, in a house with four other people, is pretty often), or you wake up every hour on the hour burning with anxiety, or you just dont fall asleep in the first place until four or five in the morning. Point is, you’re fighting to stay awake by now all because you didn’t sleep well last night, and the light rhythmic keyboard clicks are nice to listen to as you lean against Miss Carol’s side. You really hope she doesn’t mind as you doze off, head resting against her side now.

THEY MAKE ME SCREAM BTW GOD. all our carol stuff for this au was written before we met her like i said but Man. Man.

noelle isnt jealous of a 12 year old you guys by me.

“I just never wanted it to come here,” Noelle finally says, wrapping her arms around herself. “Why did it have to come here?” “I don’t know,” Susie says. “And yeah, that really sucks. I don’t want to be responsible for some little kid. But—it’s not going to replace you, okay? It literally can’t. You’re way too cool for it.” “Yeah,” Noelle says, softly. She’s not so sure she believes it. Not at home, where her mom and Toriel both dote over it. Her mom barely even talks to her, most days. And yet without fail Noelle finds her mom and Poinsettia on the couch together, into the late hours of the night. Or it helping Toriel with dinner. Kneading dough together. Barely even tall enough to peek over the counter, and yet. It even gets to sleep in their room. What did we do wrong? Noelle still remembers asking Asriel, the night after it arrived at their house. Why aren’t we enough? Asriel hadn’t said anything at all. But that night she’d sobbed into him, and he held her close, and she’d thought, then, and still thinks, now, why won’t my mom ever hold me like this? But Noelle takes a breath. Another. Until all the ice has melted off her fur, off Susie’s bed. “Uh. Sorry,” she says. “Eh.” Susie shrugs. “Not a big deal. Now. Want to go try to figure out how to make cool-ass combo spells work?” Noelle giggles, taking Susie’s offered hand as she stands, allows herself to be hauled to her feet. “Ralsei’s going to make you fix anything you break.” “He’ll have to beat us first,” Susie says, “us and our mega-powerful combo spell!” Noelle doubts they’ll get it to work. Probably they’ll just manage to absolutely mangle the practice dummy, and fire off spells that follow each other but don’t actually combine in any neat ways. But—she can’t help it. Susie’s excitement is contagious. They have to pass Ralsei and Poinsettia, on the way to the practice dummy. The human kid is giggling, watching Ralsei as he holds a soft, gentle flame in his hands, gently presses it into theirs. Noelle’s never heard it laugh before. Ralsei doesn’t look their way. But—Susie’s right. She is part of this world. Ralsei was her friend first. She’s…she’s better than some orphaned human. And she won’t let herself be replaced.

settia and toriel by stars. i was fighting for my life to pick out a snippet from this one the entire thing is SO SWEET.

“Would you mind if I brushed your hair? I’m afraid I might have messed it up a bit,” she explains, and you’re pretty sure she’s just saying that to make you feel better about your messy hair. (Just because it works doesn’t mean you don’t know why she said it!) “It’s okay, you don’t have to,” you reassure her uneasily. You really don’t want your hair pulled by the brush through your tangled hair. “Are you sure, little one? I promise I’ll be very careful. Bows aren’t the only things I have experience with. But if you don’t want me to right now, that’s alright too,” she says gently. You chew on your lip. You do hate the tangles and knots. “Okay,” you respond quietly, and she smiles. “Wonderful! I’ll go grab the brush, you go wait for me on the couch, alright?” You nod and she turns to walk to the bathroom, so you go and sit on the couch, kicking your feet and waiting for her to come back. After some rustling through the drawers and you’re pretty sure knocking something to the floor, she comes back and sits on the other side of the couch, holding the brush and a few hair ties. “Would you like your hair up or anything, dear?” She asks, and you shake your head. You don’t want your hair being tugged on to get it looking nice right now. “Alright,” she smiles, tucking the hair ties into a pocket on her cardigan, “Turn around and sit in front of me, then, dear, and I’ll get started.” You do as asked, bringing your legs up onto the couch and crossing them, tapping your fingers on the soft fabric of your leggings. Miss Toriel quickly, and, as promised, gently, begins brushing through your hair. It’s not super tangled or matted or anything (your hair got really badly tangled once - never again), but you still wince whenever she catches a knot on the brush and works through it. But she’s gentle, and it only pulls a little bit and she apologizes if you ever suck in a breath through your teeth or make a noise. It’s surprisingly nice, and it’s over after a few minutes. “Um, thank you, Miss Toriel.” You turn and smile up at her before hopping to your feet. “Wh-what time is it? I don’t want you and Noelle to be late.” Miss Toriel checks her watch and gently waves you off. “We have plenty of time, dear, but I’ll go check on Noelle to make sure she’s ready to go,” she laughs, standing up. “I’m ready,” a voice comes from the far side of the kitchen, making you jump a little. “We can go ahead and go.” You’re surprised - you didn’t even hear her come down or anything, which is such a surprise because normally you would notice someone going down the stairs? Or even walking around upstairs? But it doesn’t really matter you guess, and Miss Toriel and Noelle are already almost out the door so you hurry to follow them.

takes place directly after the one above but from noelle's pov, by me

There’s not a lot to talk about. Toriel tries to start conversation, asks Noelle how her days have been, what she’s learning in school. Noelle’s answers are a few words each. She’s doing fine. Yes, she understands the material. Ms. Alphys is still nervous all the time. She and Susie are making good progress on their project. All through it Poinsettia holds Toriel’s hand and watches Noelle with big wet eyes. Its hair has been brushed out nicely, and the bow on its back has been tied in such a way Noelle knows Toriel did it, because it’s not like the kid could’ve done that on its own. Sometimes it even talks, in its soft voice, and Toriel beams when it does. Noelle swallows down her bitterness. Clenches her hands, and imagines her magic building up in them. Something sharp and cold to focus on. But they make it to the school, somehow. Poinsettia furrows its brow and tries to leap over all the cracks in the tiny parking lot, giggling to itself when it succeeds, yellow bow billowing out. Noelle closes her eyes, and tries to imagine—another life. Where her not-really-stepsibling didn’t die. Where there was never any need for a replacement kid. She doesn’t even remember what Kris looked like.

poinsettia's first birthday with the holiday-dreemurrs by stars

You don’t think a single other one of your foster families really celebrated your birthday before, not as far as you can remember anyways. You honestly kind of forgot you had one. You were really surprised when mama Tori and mama Carol brought you a small gift while you were eating the breakfast they made. Noelle and Asriel were out doing something that you don’t remember, so they weren’t there, but mama Tori asked you if you knew what day it was. You didn’t, and she smiled and ruffled your hair, saying “It’s your birthday, silly!” You definitely felt a little silly, but she quickly encouraged you to open your gift. Inside the wrapped box was a set of simple gold earrings in the shape of a star, and a gold necklace with a feather pendant. You’ve had your ears pierced since forever, but you haven’t worn earrings in a while because you didn’t have any. But today, mama Carol helps you put on your new earrings and clasp your new necklace around your neck with a smile before ushering you off to get properly dressed for the day. So you’re in your usual outfit, with your hair nicely brushed by mama Tori, and your pretty necklace and earrings on, in the diner with your moms, doodling in your notebook and kicking your feet under the table happily. Lunch passes by in kind of a blur of you and your moms talking about anything and everything, and they ask you to pick out a dessert to have from the menu, which!! Yay!! When your dessert comes, you let your moms have some too, of course. You aren’t finished yet when mama Carol pulls something out of her bag - a slim box that rattles a little bit, wrapped in striped pale yellow paper. She sets it in between you two and you put your fork down and nudge your plate out of the way, looking between both of them quickly. When mama Tori nods, you gently pick up the box and pop the tape on the neatly folded edges and tear away the wrapping paper. You take the box out and open it, and inside is a collection of things just for you. In a small case, two normal pencils, two charcoal pencils, an eraser, and a sharpener sit, visible through the clear cover. The largest thing is a leather bound sketchbook with a laser-engraved centered flower on the cover, and, at the bottom, written neatly - your new name, Poinsettia. “A proper sketchbook, since you spend so much time drawing in those notebooks, And some basic art supplies,” mama Carol says to you quietly. If you looked up at her, you think she’d be smiling. You can’t tear your eyes away, though. You blink back tears as you stare at it, feeling them fall down your cheeks anyways. You hold the sketchbook close to your chest, running your fingers over the lines on the cover, and lean against mama Carol, closing your eyes and whispering a quiet “thank you.”

what noelle's up to on poinsettia's birthday, by me.

“I don’t want to be replaced,” she whispers, like if she just says it into his fur, it won’t be real, “they’ve already replaced their other kids. Ralsei…we never talk about Kris and Dess, and—sometimes I’m not even sure they were real, I think they’re just dreams I made up, I don’t even know if I remember them, if I miss them, but—but Mom and Toriel—but they never, they’re just…moving on, and I…if I—” “Noelle,” he murmurs, and somehow her name in his voice is like—the dam breaking, or something. She’s wracked with a whole new wave of sobs. Sort of wants to vanish and never show her face here again. Sort of never wants to part herself from Ralsei again. “…I’m…I wish I knew what to say, but…you know I’m your best friend, okay? No—no matter what happens. I wouldn’t ever replace you.” “You keep teaching Poinsettia magic,” Noelle sniffs. She is almost certainly getting snot on Ralsei’s robes. “It’s human, and I’m just—” “My best friend,” Ralsei says, and there is something about the possessive—my, mine—that makes Noelle shiver. “Of course I’m teaching Poinsettia magic. It’s a kid, and it’s so scared down here, and it shouldn’t even be down here, but it is. I’m not going to stop that. But—how could you ever think I’d replace you?”      “Everyone does,” she says. “Mom. Toriel. Asriel, one day, I bet.” “Everyone?” Ralsei nudges her, and she looks up through watery eyes at him and the small smile across his muzzle. “What, me and Susie too?” She ducks away again. “Can you just let me be angry and miserable?”     He laughs. A sound like the sun rising. “Of course not!” he says. “Noelle…I can’t fix your relationship with your moms. And…I don’t know how to help you, with all of that. But—thank you for telling me. And…you do know, all of this anger…you’re taking it out on an innocent child.” “Don’t say that,” Noelle mutters, “don’t make me feel worse.” But she hugs Ralsei, finally manages to sit up under her own weight. “…I can’t do it,” she says, “I—I can’t go to its birthday, not…I can’t, Ralsei. I can’t.” “Okay,” he says, softly. He’s still holding her, she notices—he’s taken one of her hands in his, tracing the lines of her palm. “Baby steps, then. I think…if you actually had a conversation with it, you two could be friends. I think it’s mostly just very scared, Noelle. And…when it does talk about you, it only ever has good things to say.” Good things. Noelle doesn’t think she’s exchanged more than the bare minimum words necessary to exist in the same household with Poinsettia, and it only tells Ralsei good things. It draws a laugh out of her, one that makes her lungs ache, which makes her laugh even harder, and then Ralsei is fretting over her, the warm wash of his healing magic settling into her skin, and that turns the laughter back into sobs. She curls up on her bed with her head in his lap. “This is so stupid,” she tells him, tilting her head back so she can see his face. “I’ve been so stupid.”

oh shit is the plot of drk starting. by stars.

Asgore sits next to you on the bed, holding the remote and ticking up the volume as the grainy outdated logo pans across the screen and music plays in the background. Before the tape can actually get to the movie, though, he pauses it and looks at you. You stare up at him, confused. “Is something wrong?” You ask, worried. He shakes his head and you relax a little. “No, no.. I just wanted to say, Poinsettia… No matter what happens with Dess and Kris, we aren’t going to make you leave. Your mothers truly do care a lot about you.” Your skin crawls and you bite your lip. You came here to get away from all of that! Why does he have to bring it up? But, your anger quickly gives way to sadness and you break eye contact and just lean into his side. You don’t know if you can believe him, but… “Okay,” you whisper. “I trust you.” He smooths down your hair soothingly and wraps his arm around you before wordlessly unpausing the movie. It’s nice. You hope he’s right. You really, really want to believe it will last.

what poinsettia ran away to the flower shop to escape. by me. this is like my favorite dess ive ever written btw.

“December Mistletoe Holiday!” Carol’s voice rings out in the ensuing dead, empty silence. Dess’s voice catches in her throat, like she’s eighteen again and fighting with her mom about school, the future, her latest stint at the jail, her lack of interest in anything afterwards. “Hyacinth,” Dess says, and her voice is barely more than a whisper. “What?” Carol snaps. “Speak up, nobody can—” “Hyacinth,” she repeats. Louder, this time. Her voice never shook. “Dess Hyacinth. That’s my name. I’m not one of you.” This time, her mom does meet her glare. Dess certainly isn’t about to be the one to break first, and she isn’t, her mother finally saying, “well—whatever you have changed your name to—do you understand what you have done? What you have put all of us through? For nearly a decade, we thought you and Kris were dead.” “And I’d make it a decade more!” Except, fuck, she blinks first, even if her mother spoke. Dess grits her teeth. What right does her mom have, to still—she’s an adult, she isn’t bound by anything anymore. “Stop acting like you care, Mom! We both know that wasn’t ever true.” She laughs. Wonders what memories are drawn first to her mother’s head. Their screaming match when Dess first cut her hair short and jagged? The silent treatment that could last months? Dess, when she told her mother she had no plans to go to college, and left the room no matter how loudly she was lectured? “We both know,” Dess continues, voice dangerous, the sort of thing that would fit right into a schema, “that you were counting down the days you could be rid of me. And look!” She blinks. Are her eyes wet? “You went and got a whole new kid, to mold into the child you always wanted!”   “D—don’t be mean to Settia!” Noelle bursts out, literally out of nowhere, having not said much of all since they all started fighting in here. And Dess—laughs. At this little baby sister she gave up everything for, this girl who barely remembers her and is apparently siding with the replacement. “It…it never…asked for any of this to happen…” “Oh, really?” Dess says. “Well, newsflash, neither did I! I’ve been doing just fine before you all had to drag me into this!” Again, she can’t help but laugh. The fuck was the point of everything she’s been doing, if the very people she left for can’t be assed to care? “Noelle,” she says, stopping right next to Noelle’s chair, and her sister is bristling, eyes icy, not backing down. “Why do you care?” “B—because—” Noelle shakes herself, sucks in a breath. Dess would recognize someone steeling herself up anywhere. What she doesn’t expect are the words that come out of her sister’s mouth. “Because you aren’t my sister!” “Noelle,” Asriel says, before Dess can say anything, when she’s still staggering backwards. There must be a schemabeast in the room with her. She thinks it has clawed her through the heart. Noelle smacks Asriel’s hand away from her, pushes her chair back and stands from it. “I don’t know you!” she says. “I don’t know what’s going on! I—I hate all of this!” She turns an accusatory glare to Dess. “Why did you have to come back? I was finally figuring things out!!! I have friends and I was making up with Settia and trying to be better and—and—and—” She sniffs. Tears are building up in her eyes. And then, before any of them can say a single thing, she darts out of the room, to the front door, and is gone, leaving nothing behind but a loud slam and an emptier room.

and finally the most recent thing written for your heart. by me.

Poinsettia creeps into the living room, hesitating just before the couch. “…Noelle?” “You don’t want to sleep alone, right? And Mom and Toriel aren’t cutting it?” The couch is not the most comfortable place to sleep, but Poinsettia’s pretty small still—it at least should be fine. She pats the cushion next to her. “Well, if I try to sneak back into my room, I’ll probably just wake up Asriel. So I guess I have to sleep down here for the night.” Poinsettia says, “Asriel’s a really heavy sleeper.” “Is he?” It blinks. Watches her. She isn’t really sure what it is thinking—if it, like her, remembers all those times she’d turn away from it. All the days she spent in Castle Town, just so she wouldn’t have to look at it’s stupid human face. The same face looking at her right now. It crosses the gap and climbs up next to her on the couch. Doesn’t even leave any space between them. Just settles there right at her side, its tiny frame leaning into her own, pressing its face to her arm. “Thank you,” it squeaks out, ducking its head, and then, so fast she nearly misses it, as it squeezes her arm in something like a hug, “I love you Noelle.” Noelle’s pretty sure her entire life flashes before her eyes. Poinsettia is warm, so warm, already starting to drift off, its eyes fluttering shut as its grip on her slackens with sleep. This tiny human kid, falling asleep against her side; this tiny human kid terrorized by nightmares, falling asleep because she is there to watch over it. Angel fucking damn it. “Yeah,” Noelle says. Her voice catches, wet, in her throat, and she smears tears across her face. “…love you too, Settia.”

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THE YOUR HEART SHOWCASE IF YOU CANT TELL UM. WE THINK ABOUT YOUR HEART A LOT.

[silverraes]

so with the amount of reactions to my last post re: thai bl friend circles I've been considering starting a small thai bl discord where we can all scream together? It'd be my first time managing sth like this so you'd have to bear with me but lmk if you're interested

[bg3-npc]

Super morbid idea but I think many (in my personal belief, a majority) of the spawn once freed would just.....walk into the sunlight. Creatures deprived of the sun for who knows how long, being unable to even see it, realizing they can never interact with it again? Finally released from imprisonment only to confront the fact they're still constrained? Brought back from the dead but unable to live, how many are even cognizant after so long?

Some probably frantically ran to the surface, needing to make sure the world even still existed. They'd run into the sunlight only to flee to the shadows in pain. I think bring confronted with the reality of their situation would probably break those that hadn't already. The cacophony of agonized wailing would restart, only this time the sound is dispersed through a world they can no longer access.

Those that had been numb longest, in every sense of the word, would walk unimpeded into the sunlight. They'd burn and smoke and start to literally crumble but they wouldn't stop. Being numb for so long, then being hit with the incomprehensible grief of all they'd lost, would just circle back around to numbness. Yes the sun would be burning them away but it'd also be bringing relief. They'd feel a lightening rivaling the feeling of the sun itself.

More and more of the spawn would follow, wanting to be free from suffering forever. What relief is more lasting and permanent than complete death of the self? Of course some of the spawn would try to hold some back, try to get anyone to see how much there is left to experience. Yet they'd be quickly overwhelmed and have to helplessly watch as most of their "siblings" choose to feel the sun one last time.

As soon as any small part of the sun would shine through, it'd quickly be obscured again. The roar of anguish would quiet down until there was only a silence as deafening. Who knows how far the ashes would carry, or how long the rain would be gray from the smoke in the sky. The land surrounding the manor would have such a heavy presence despite no one being there. It would be the final time Cazador would make the sky grow dark.

[jadegr8]

I eventually started watching Good Omens today, I'm at episode 4 of season 1, and this wonderful, ineffable husbands dynamic is carefully carrying me on its angel wings, out of the deep hole I dug and wallowed in after reading and then watching Banana Fish (I haven't finished the anime yet though, just me being delulu) and I so fucking love it and damn, I do hope nothing bad happens to them...

[saintajax]

Trying to figure out how to make this carrd work and. Wow my brain kinda hurts 💀💀💀

[dollyforever]

a "ritual" to say goodbye to your old self and everything you've known

are you feeling stuck in your manifestation/shifting/void journey? do you keep seeing people telling you to persist in your desires, but you feel like your mind is doing the complete opposite?

it's time to let go of your old identity. the doubtful one. to step into your new self. the one who already has it all.

before you start: do this in the afternoon (ideally), before you go to bed. turn off your phone notifications, clean your space/table, make it a safe place, light a candle, whatever makes you feel calm and relaxed. (optionally) listen to this subliminal as you do the following steps https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sRFnXo2vlWI :

the goodbye letter: take a piece of paper and write a letter for your old self. the one you're letting go of. write: what no longer serves you, what you're saying goodbye to. tell them thank you, for everything they've done to get you to this point in time. tell them that it has been a long journey, but now it's time to leave. write the date down. this is the last time you're doing this.

burn the letter or tear it into tiny pieces and throw it away. once you don't have the letter in your hands anymore, say out loud or in your mind: "It is done."

any doubts that show up from this point forward are just whispers of your old self. but you're not that anymore, so simply ignore them, laugh at them. they don't belong to you, but to somebody you don't know anymore.

take a shower; however long you want the shower to be. play some frequency music in the backround. as you wash the soap off of yourself, imagine you're "cleansing" your old self. this is rebirth. the second you step out of the shower, think of yourself as a blank canvas. you are renewed. anything you want to be at this point, you already are.

as you get ready for bed (self care, brushing teeth, etc.), treat every movement as sacred. this is not routine. this is reverence. you are officially your new, master manifestor, master shifter, master of EVERYTHING self. feel how incredible it is to finally be free of all the doubts you used to have.

lie down in your bed, and say (out loud or silently): "This body is no longer a cage. This mind is no longer a battlefield. I am nothing. I am everything. I am."

let yourself drift off to sleep while repeating any short phrase that implies fulfillment, like a lullaby. an example is "thank you, thank you, thank you..." or "isn't it wonderful?" or any short phrase you prefer, until your mind is completely dominated by the sensation of thankfulness.

when you wake... open your eyes like you're seeing the world for the first time. because you are.

[luna-azzurra]

A Free E-book on Writing Characters That Feel Real

A year ago, I sat down to write this book. At first, it was just an idea, a fleeting thought that whispered, Hey, maybe you should do this. But if I’m being honest, the only reason it actually exists today is you.

You, who kept showing up. You, who kept asking questions, sharing your struggles, and pushing me to keep going when I wanted to throw my laptop out the window. You made me believe this book was worth writing. So here it is. And it’s completely free on Amazon, because I want you to have it.

Now, This isn’t your typical “Here’s how to write a character” manual that tells you to slap on a few traits and call it a day. No, we’re diving deep into the messy, complicated, and downright chaotic process of creating characters who feel real, the kind who make readers laugh, cry, and scream into the void when they suffer.

What you’ll find inside:

🔥 Backstory – Ever met someone whose past didn’t shape them? Me neither. What happened to your character before page one? What traumas, triumphs, or late-night existential crises made them who they are?

"So you mean I have to give my character trauma?" Yes. Or at least something that matters. Nobody wants to read about someone who just woke up one day and decided to be interesting.

🔥 Motivation & Goals – What do they want? More importantly, why? What’s driving them forward or holding them back?

"So, can I just say my character wants to save the world?" No. You need to know what’s underneath that. Do they want to save the world because they failed to save someone before? Because they crave approval? Because they feel powerless and this is their way of taking control? Go deeper.

🔥 Relationships – Nobody exists in a vacuum. Who do they love? Who do they hate? Who’s their worst enemy, and who’s the person they’d take a bullet for?

"But what if my character is a loner?" Cool, but even loners have people they avoid, people they secretly miss, and people who haunt them. Nobody is truly alone.

🔥 Character Arc – People change. Or they don’t and that says something too. How does your character evolve (or refuse to) over the course of your story?

"Can my character stay the same?" Sure, if you want to show the cost of not changing. But readers love growth, whether it’s for better or worse.

🔥 Personality, Voice & Expression – Strengths, flaws, quirks, habits, the little things that make them Human.

"Can I just give them a scar and call it depth?" No. A scar is cool, but why does it matter to them? Do they trace it when they’re nervous? Does it make them self-conscious? Does it remind them of a promise, a failure, a night they wish they could forget? The details mean nothing unless they mean everything.

This isn’t some dry, theoretical textbook. This is a no-BS, straight-to-the-heart guide to crafting characters that breathe, bleed, and break hearts—characters that matter.

📖 Get your free copy on Kindle now! (Here On Amazon!)

And seriously—thank you. This book wouldn’t exist without you. 💖✨

[nikovraskol]

crack baby ; prologue

wc ; 1572 masterlist after dying, you expected to be greeted with the open arms of the void swallowing your body, mind and soul. what you didn't anticipate is waking up sixteen once more with a chance to change your fate -- but something strange is happening, why are the locks changing and why are all eyes suddenly on you ?

tw ; death, neglect, brief mention of drugs, curse words

prologue, one, tbc..

Your death was completely preventable.

As you lay on the concrete floor of the cold alleyway, you can’t help but feel a sense of peace. Yeah, sure, you were shot 5 times and you’re currently bleeding out in some piss-smelling drug-ridden pavement. At least you’ve died in a somewhat honorable way, people will have a tell to tale, whether it’s good or bad, you’ll be remembered for a while.

Or maybe that’s wishful thinking, maybe the lack of blood is making you delirious. There’s no way you’ll be remembered as anything but the child that haunts the manor, that stalks around, staring at the residents of the Wayne manor with hopeful eyes. A child who doesn’t belong, who’s body isn’t able to fill in the cracks in the family, a child who wasn’t able to give anything, to devout anything.

A child of 21, but a child nonetheless. 

The way you got caught up in the shooting was so unbelievably stupid, you were too nice to refuse taking on an extra shift from your co-worker, working overtime for free because you didn’t know how to say no. You got caught up in a fight between goons on your way home. For a brief moment, that small child you had buried foolishly believed your father would swoop down and protect you.

Then you were shot, again and again and again.

You don’t want to die, you decide at the last minute. You want to go back in time, to tell your poor 16-year-old self that yearning for the love of a family who doesn’t have love to give is foolish. A foolish child dying a foolish death.

And then, your eyes shut for the last time, you can almost hear your mother’s low humming, the smell of the dingy, old apartment you used to live in with her, you can taste the cold food she worked to provide (you can feel her hands on your neck, can hear her apologies ringing over and over as she cries).

It’s peaceful, almost nice.

Until you wake up – and your first thought is; what the fuck?

Your hand instinctively moves to your lower abdomen where you were shot – you were shot! You remember the burning pain shooting through you, so why on earth are you unharmed and.. in your bedroom?

It’s strange, why are your old posters up? Trinkets you distinctly remember throwing out, clothes you don’t wear thrown about – and that’s when it happens.

Your eyes catch a reflection in the mirror, your reflection. Your reflection that isn’t yours, why is

your hair shorter? Why are you so small– why are you.. Sixteen?

“What the fuck?” You hiss, jumping out of bed – wobbling as you whip your head around, taking in every nook and cranny of the small room. “What the fuck?!” 

You jump towards the mirror, leaning in as you slap, pinch and stretch your face, awed by the youthful appearance, you had forgotten how cute you looked. No, that seems like the wrong word, you looked sixteen. Just an average sixteen year old, healthy and alive (somehow).

A few moments ago you were lying in a pool of your blood in a run-down alley, an unloved 21 year old – now you’re sixteen again, and you have a chance to change the inevitable! If you ignore the pit of dread in your stomach. Sixteen had been the worst year of your life, full of anger and hormones and teenage drama. Sixteen had been the year you struggled the most.

On the bright side, at least you had a trial run..?

“Young Master (Name)” A british, familiar voice calls out and you tense, whipping your head around to see Alfred. It had almost slipped your mind, Alfred is alive. He’s standing before you, as straight and proper as always, smiling at you as if nothing had changed. As if you hadn’t sobbed at his funeral, as if you hadn’t cursed your family for dragging him into their mess, as if you hadn’t spent countless nights at his grave, as if–

“Are you.. alright?” He asks, taking in the flabbergasted expression on your face – to which you straighten up, nodding with a shaken exhale as you ignore the churning of your stomach. You felt nauseous, everything felt too real in an uncomfortable way. A very uncomfortable way – the mix of emotions threatening to consume you.

“You didn’t come down for breakfast, I was beginning to grow worried.” He explains, taking in the way you nod blankly once more, his brows furrowing. “Is– everything alright”

“Y– yes, I’m just not hungry, I’ll– have something later.” You can’t keep your voice from trembling, you’re five seconds away from breaking down and sobbing before him, but you don’t want to worry him. You need to figure out a game plan, you’ve no time for stupid pleasantries like food, plus even if you tried to eat you’d probably throw up then break down sobbing.

“Alright, Young Master. But please, eat something before noon.” Alfred sighs, clearly worried by your peculiar behaviour, his eyes lingering for a moment too long before he leaves your room, shutting the door behind him with a resounding click. Oh fuck, how are you supposed to interact with anyone in this family if a two minute interaction is enough to have you trembling? Whatever, it matters not! You fumble around with your face for another moment before letting out a long sigh, your head already aching from the bewilderment of the situation. You shuffle over to your bed, plopping down with another huff. You had no idea what to do, no plan to go forward, but you had to figure something out. 

You couldn’t stay in the Manor, you couldn’t deal with the dismissive eyes, the fake words of reassurance. You couldn’t stand curling up in your room, listening to the distant sounds of laughter as everyone celebrated without you. You couldn’t stand being that child again.

“I need to leave.” You say with more firmness than you had intended, your eyes set on the mirror before you. Of a sixteen-year-old (Name), staring back at you with pitiful eyes, you’ll get them out, you’ll give them a future – you’ll give yourself a future.

“Okay. Now, where do I begin?” You mumble, staring up at your ceiling before reaching for your phone. Time to go house hunting at sixteen. Yipee.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Alfred was picking up your plate with a thoughtful expression, breakfast had always been your favourite time of day because it always gave you a chance to see your family. No matter how you felt, or how busy you were. How peculiar.

It’s unusual for you to so blatantly skip it, there’s also that whole thing with your demeanour. Something in you had shifted, and he didn’t like it – it felt as though you were slipping away, as though you had resigned, as though you had stepped back, content in living as a shadow lurking in the dark corners of the Manor.

That simply won’t do. 

He won’t give up on that smiling child, looking up at him with their front tooth missing, dirt staining their clothes as they ramble on about how they found a top secret hide-out, how they can’t wait to tell your big brothers their adventures. 

Well, he’s sure with a few clever strings pulled he can finally put you on centre stage, with the lights shining on you. He just needs to remember to reserve a front row seat, for himself, of course.

“What the fuck?” You grumble, repeating that sentence for the nth time as you angrily type on your phone – why is every apartment in this city and the city over so bummy? It’s either too expensive or overridden with rats or overtaken by gangs.

You never moved houses in your past (?) life, staying in the Wayne Manor was easy once you accepted the inevitability of chasing after a fruitless relationship. Plus, the housing in Gotham and Bludhaven has always been..

Well, it could be better!

“(Name).” Your heart jumps out of your chest as an strangely familiar voice calls out for you, dark, low, paternal. Who on earth?

Your heart sinks as your eyes shift to the figure at your door. Batman, Bruce Wayne, your father, is in your room? What the fuck? This had never happened in your life, certainly not at sixteen. You can recall every single time you’ve ever seen your family, so why? Your hand curls around your phone as you gape up at your father. This isn’t supposed to happen. The one thing grounding you through this crazy, disconnecting experience was the comfort that you were familiar with your future, that you had a grasp on what events are bound to go down.

You’ve been awake for about twenty minutes – how’s it already changed?! Inside you, a deep part of your soul shifts, the air in the room suddenly being sucked in by his overwhelming presence, his eyes – cold and calculating, sizing you up as if you were a specimen, as though you were a pretty piece of silver at an auction and not his flesh and blood, your breathing become uneven as you try to grasp at your memory, anything that might've slipped your mind regarding interactions with your father.

You draw a blank, this has never happened. It's not supposed to happen – what the fuck?!

“Let’s go for a walk.”

yall i feel like this sucks i havent written in like two years im so rusty omg im so embarresed ill die bye

[dddvader]

Nights like this (1)

“Are you mad at me?”

Bob looks at him with those sad dark-blue eyes – blue like forget-me-nots. Ironic, given the episodes of amnesia.

He shifts awkwardly by the bed, hugging a pillow to his chest, and John, even half-watching through barely open lashes, sees the uncertainty written all over him. With a resigned sigh, he throws back the blanket on the free side of his bed. This is, what – the third night this week? It’s not like John’s counting though. Just a careless observation.

“Just get in. And don’t even think about elbowing me.”

“Will you hold me?”

The audacity wakes John up completely. He even lifts his head from the pillow, all the indignation in the world etched into the sleep-creased lines on his face. A question. Offense. The last one – twice.

“When there’s someone behind you, it feels like the nightmares can’t really get through,” Bob explains with that ridiculous half-laugh, easing himself into bed – a bit closer than necessary if you ask John. No one’s asking, unfortunately.

“I like being the little spoon. Makes me feel… safe.”

John stares.

He could use a gaze like the Sentry’s, he thinks to himself – something that crushes people like insects and ends arguments in an instant. But no, of course not – all John can offer is a mix of surprise, irritation, and exhaustion in the glare that he gives him. Bob doesn’t seem to care at all.

He moves again, shifts, presses closer. John feels his own body tense at that closeness, and nearly flinches away when Bob suddenly places his long-fingered hand on top of his, gently guiding it to wrap around his middle. John seems to forget how to breathe.

“Just like that,” Bob murmurs, as if he’s taming a wild animal, pressing his cool but surprisingly soft hand over John’s – right against his firm chest under the cotton shirt.

It stupidly brings back memories of holding Olivia like this, those rare nights spent at home instead of in the barracks or a trench, and John fights the urge to flinch away for the second time in a couple of minutes. But Bob, sensing his traitorous hesitation, presses in even closer.

Warm. Touchable. Smelling of popcorn, fresh laundry, and a little sweat where John’s pressed to his skin.

John ends up face-to-face with the softness of his brown-ish, more like…chestnut hair, he’s not really an expert, nudging his nose into it without thinking, exhaling slowly.

“Are you sniffing me?” Bob asks immediately, trying to turn around, only to bump the back of his head into John’s face.

“For fuck’s sake, Bob!” John winces at the dull thud, tightens his arms around him in a warning grip, and nudges him back with his forehead. “I’m not sniffing you, you moron, where the hell else am I supposed to go? Now lie down, will you? Lie still!”

Bob freezes at the snap, even curls in on himself a little, and mutters a barely audible, “Sorry.”

John instantly feels like an A-grade asshole which he is but…

For some reason, hurting Bob always hits hard – a sharper kind of guilt that spreads through his chest, nauseating and raw. Makes him want to back off, to take it back. To, well, not be an asshole.

“Little spoon, huh?” he exhales after a couple of minutes of dead silence, unable to force out an apology, and presses his cheek to the soft hair, finally letting his sore, tired eyes close.

He’ll never admit it, but his nightmares don’t let him go easily either but there’s no way in hell he’s going to cry to Bob. Or anyone else. No offense to Bob but John? He’d rather take a one-way ticket into the Void.

“Little spoon,” Bob echoes flatly. Then, not resisting the urge, adds dryly, “And you’re the knife.”

John lets out a short laugh at that pettiness and, being typical John, argues:

“No, I’m pretty sure I’m the big spoon, Bobby.”

“You were supposed to be,” Bob mutters, nudging him with a shoulder at the nickname he despises so much. “But the big spoon’s supposed to be about kindness and safety. And you’re an asshole, so knife it is.”

“Knife it is,” John sighs, surrendering under the weight of his exhaustion. “Good night, little spoon.”

Bob doesn’t answer. At least not right away. Probably presses his thin lips together in silent pout, sulking like a kid, but somewhere between being asleep and awake, John hears a soft “Night,” and a hint of a smile ghosts across his face.

English is not my first language, I’m not so good at it, but I needed to try myself. Feel free to rub my face in the mistakes, I’ll actually appreciate it tbh 🙂‍↕️

[pagesfromthevoid]

Honey & Glass | r. r.

Robert "Bob" Reynolds x superpowered!reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, not a lot of Bob interaction just yet, Valentina and Walker need their own warnings

Author's Notes: I love him, okay? I'm not even sorry.

Masterlist | Talk to Me! | AO3

Six Months Before the Void

“Sergeant Barnes, if you would just give me a chance –,”

“A chance to do what, exactly?” Bucky asked, turning to face the young woman who had –for the better part of an hour –been following him through the charity event.

“Help with your campaign!” She explained, throwing her hands in the air. “Sir, you’re an icon. A legend. So it genuinely pains me to say this. But you suck at talking in front of the camera.”

He stared at her for a long moment, considering what she was saying. Okay, sure –he wasn’t great at interviews. But he was polling better than everyone else running against him. That had to mean something, right? He rolled his neck, pushing aside an annoying tingle that had shot up his spine. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” she continued, stepping in front of him, putting her hands up as if she could stop him from leaving. “You’re thinking that you’re polling better than everyone else running against you, and that has to mean something.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed. “How did –,”

“And it does mean something –but it won’t if you don’t learn how to address the public. The whole ‘man of the people’ schtick gets old fast when it’s less endearing and more ‘is this man actually qualified?’”

He doesn’t have time for this, he decided, shaking his head. Then he reached out to just move her –something he didn’t really like doing, but she was too persistent and kind of annoying, so he needed her to go away.

“I’m not going away!” She exclaimed, ducking away from his touch –as if she anticipated it. “Also don’t manhandle people –sir, do you realize how bad that looks? Like, our mayor does enough of that.”

“How are you doing that?” He demanded, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her to the side. Though his grip wasn’t tight –he didn’t want to hurt her.

“Doing what?” 

“Can you read my mind?” He demanded again, glaring down at her.

“I mean…,” she dragged out the phrase, making a ‘maybe’ sort of motion with her hands. “Listen, I told you I knew what you were thinking. But that’s not all I can do –and I can use it to help you.”

“Why on earth would you want to use your superpowers to help me run for Congress?”

“Because I actually think you can do good for Brooklyn,” she insisted, and Bucky swore that she was being genuine. “I am being genuine, sir. I care about my city. And I do think you can do a lot more than most can. But you need a public relations specialist and I am really good at my job. Theoretically, at least.”

“Theoretically?” He asked, frowning deeply.

“I mean, you would be my first client because I finished my Master’s like right before the Blip then disappeared technically, but I know I can be really good at my job if you just give me a chance. Please. I’ll even do it for free!”

“I’m not –you’re not doing it for free. I’ll pay you –,”

“Yes!” 

Present Day –D.C.

“Any word on our friend?” Bucky asks, glancing at his PR specialist slash assistant slash…well, everything, really. 

He isn’t sure how to describe the young woman who stood next to him, because she’s a jack of all trades at this point in his very short Congressional career. She started off managing his social media and helping his public image before the election. Bucky had to give credit where credit was due: the girl is good at her job. Her speech writing skills are solid. She keeps his message and support consistent. She even managed to get him less stiff and weird on camera. She keeps him on schedule and pushes him through things he doesn’t want to do, with both a smile and a snarky comment that lightens his frustrations. 

Her abilities came in handy quite a bit in these tasks. Between reading the minds of the people around her –knowing what they wanted, how they felt –and being able to project positive thoughts into a crowd…well, Bucky is glad she was so persistent six months ago.

But then she had a run-in with one of his opponents supporters, showing up to work disheveled and frustrated.

“It’s nothing,” she had insisted, “Just some asshole who thinks I’m a monster for helping you.”

Bucky decided that he could teach her a few things too.

She was a fast learner, and a willing student. If she got knocked down, she got up again and immediately sought feedback and improvement. While she’s no super soldier, she is able to hold her own if she needs to —after a few months. Bucky taught her how to handle a weapon or two, she taught him how to use Twitter and TikTok (which he hated, but damn did it help his numbers). It’s a good partnership.

The latest lesson is a bit of espionage –nothing super intense. Bucky is working on how to get Valentina Alegra de Fontaine impeached –and while his assistant was a great asset in confirming that Valentina was, in fact, guilty…well, the public doesn’t know he has a mutant in his employment. And while Bucky has no issue telling anyone, she does –and it isn’t his secret to tell.

“None of my family knows,” she explained over a beer one night after another charity gala. “I don’t…It’s not something I need anyone to know. I already know what everyone thinks; I don’t need them to start thinking specifically about me too. I don’t think I could handle it.”

“Her assistant –her name is Mel –is on the fence about her boss,” she explains, clicking away at her phone as she sends him over her notes. “I tried talking to her but she pretty much immediately beelined for the door when I got closer.”

“Who's the unapproachable one now?” He jokes, grinning down at her as he grabs a champagne glass for both of them. 

She snorts in response, taking a sip of the bubbly he hands her. “Still you, sir.”

“Fair enough,” he agrees, nodding some as he looks around the room. “Anything else?”

“She’s getting rid of any and all evidence of O.X.E and something called Project Sentry,” she continues, though she’s hiding her lips behind her glass. “I couldn’t figure out what that was –I’m sure something ratchet.”

“Ratchet?” He asks, frowning deeply.

“Terrible,” she offers. 

Her and her millennial slang. He couldn’t understand it half the time.

“I’ll try to get closer –,”

“Don’t,” he interrupts, stepping in front of her. “Cool it for the night. I have some angles that I can work with; I need you to do what you do best now.”

“Get people to think you’re not a weird old man from the forties?”

“...yes.”

“Can do, sir.” She salutes him, grinning up at him. 

Bucky shoos her away, shaking his head, then heads off to locate Congressman Gary about his findings.

*****

She sees coordinates.

She knows she promised Bucky she wouldn’t get closer to Valentina, but she never promised she wouldn’t pay attention to Mel.

“I know you’re avoiding me,” she comments as she slips behind Mel with a polite smile and glass of champagne. “I don’t know why. I thought we were like…I don’t know, two peas in a pod. Assistants to weirdly powerful people –,”

“Oh, I’m not –,” Mel starts but bites her tongue. “I’m not avoiding you. Just super busy. You know, being an assistant to a weirdly powerful person.”

She nods, sipping her drink thoughtfully. But Mel is focused on her tablet again, and the coordinates are flashing in her mind as she looks at a name –John Walker. U.S. Agent. Dime store Captain America. She makes a face behind her glass, unable to help it. 

The same coordinates flash again, indicating that Walker was being sent somewhere to get rid of someone named Belova in Utah. 

She hums as she jots down the coordinates in her phone, fully intending to send them to Bucky.

“Well, well –finally, I get the pleasure of meeting the little girl who’s made our junior congressman remotely functional,” Valentina announces from behind, catching her off guard. “You know, you could do a lot better.”

She smiles politely, though she wonders if it looks as forced as it feels. “I don’t think I could, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Valentina hums, bumping shoulders with Mel, who looks painfully uncomfortable. Her thoughts are loud. What is she doing? She literally told me not to talk to this girl. Why is she talking to her? What’s her angle? Is she trying to fire me? Do I want to be fired?? “Could work with us –I bet your skills would do wonders.”

She narrows her eyes at the inflection –at the implication –in Valentina’s tone. “I think you have an excellent assistant already, Ms. de Fontaine –,”

“Oh, I don’t need another assistant. Mel is perfect,” though her tone sounds…alarmingly poisonous. “You, though…you could be so much more than just Bucky Barnes’ pretty assistant.”

“I am more than that, ma’am,” she argues, narrowing her eyes. 

“I think you have the potential to be a hero,” Valentina continues, ignoring her. “Think about what you could do with those powers of yours.”

“I don’t –,”

“Oh please,” the director of the CIA interrupts. “Number one, it’s obvious that you can read minds. You know way too much and have almost no contacts in D.C. Just because everyone else in this room is oblivious doesn’t mean I am. Number two, you have an actual talent –something that can literally calm down the worst of the worst without even touching them. Think about what you could do with that.”

She opens her mouth to say something, but stops herself. Valentina is manipulating her. She knows that the director is. It’s obvious, and Valentina isn’t even trying to hide it.

“I’m making an impact here,” she says, though she’s not half as confident as she was before. 

“Are you, though?”

“More so than a woman experimenting on humans and destroying the evidence.”

Valentina laughs –well, snorts really, because her laugh is not from amusement. “Shit, you know. I thought I could get you. That’s unfortunate. Now you’re just a liability.”

Her brow furrows and as she’s about to call out –for Bucky, for someone –there’s a high pitched screeching in her ears and everything goes fuzzy. She curses out loud as Valentina calls for help –as someone helps her up and leads her away. She can’t hear what’s going on –she can’t see what’s being presented to the crowd. But through blurry eyes, she can see Bucky trying to make his way through the crowd. 

She’s blacked out before she knows if he’s going to help her.

*****

Her head hurts.

That’s all she can focus on.

There’s a dull ache in her skull like someone took a screwdriver and tried to scramble her brain through her ears. 

The pain, however, is overcome by the sound of gunshots echoing in an empty room.

She rolls over, bumping into a crate or something, and tries to push herself onto her knees. There’s yelling and gunshots and she’s barely able to think let alone move. But she manages to get herself sitting up, eyes screwed tight as she presses her head into the crate behind her. She needs to get her bearings. She needs to figure out where she is and she needs to call Bucky because she fucked up and now she’s probably in danger and –

“It’s getting kind of tense out there,” a voice whispers –trembling, soft. 

But she’s not expecting anyone to be so close to her and she screams out, throwing herself away from him. 

The gunshots stop, and there’s a silence for a moment as the weapons shift towards her and this man she doesn’t recognize. Though, she’s certain that even if she could see properly without feeling like her brain was bleeding, she wouldn’t know who he is.

“And who are you?” Someone asks, and she can hear footsteps coming closer. 

She tries to mask herself –hide from whatever is probably going to kill her –but the moment she even considers her powers –there’s another violent jolt down her spine and she cries out in pain.

“Oh,” the man above her says, putting his hands up. “I’m –I’m uh, Bob. I don’t –well, I don’t know who she is –,”

“Don’t involve me in this,” she hisses as he points to her, though she looks up as John Walker peers down at her. She glares at him through squinted, bloodshot eyes. 

“Aren’t you…Bucky’s assistant?” He asks, holstering his gun.

She nods once, swallowing hard. “Yeah…yeah, I am.”

“How the hell did you both get in here?” the Russian asks.

“I don’t remember,” Bob admits, still trembling some as he looks down at her on the floor. “I found her like that –,”

“I think I was kidnapped,” she explains as Walker offers her a hand to stand. She slaps it away and slowly pushes herself up. “Fucking Valentina –,”

“So just to confirm,” the Russian begins. “Valentina sent…all of us here, to kill each other. Plus two civilians?”

“I think she sent me here to get killed,” she offers, leaning against the crate to hold her up. “I, uh, can read minds and shit.”

“Ah, okay. Liability,” the Russian confirms, as if it was obvious. “Doesn’t explain Bob though.”

“Wait, you guys were sent?” He asks, and she’s taking a breath and finally finds herself focusing a little better.

She glances at Bob now, taking a moment to finally look at him. He’s in scrubs, disheveled and confused. She, probably inappropriate for the moment, thinks he would be kind of cute if he was a little more cleaned up. Or least not in scrubs. 

There’s not a chance in hell she can read his thoughts –her brain is still a mess. She tries to focus her gaze, blinking away the fuzziness that had overwhelmed her. Things were getting clearer; their thoughts —though still fragmented and scrambled like a TV without signal —were finally breaking through. He’s standing there barefoot and it's hard to believe that he wasn’t just…here already. He seems too confused to have snuck in, and more importantly too scrambled.

“I don’t think it matters, really,” she finally says, standing up straight. “We need to get out because Valentina is absolutely trying to kill all of us.”

“Okay, these two —yeah, I get it,” Walker argues, motioning to the Russian —Yelena— and the other woman —Ava —she’s gathered. “But I’m a decorated war vet. I was Captain America —,”

Bob suddenly laughs, and the sound feels almost unnerving in the situation they’re in. She turns to him, his fragmented thoughts loud and…and scary.

Walker isn’t amused. “What’s so funny, Bobby?”

Some thought —or maybe emotion —flares up in Bob but he just laughs uncomfortably again. 

“You keep saying you’re Captain America,” he explains, wringing his hands. 

“And why is that funny?” Walker presses and his thoughts are getting louder now too. 

“It’s just…you’re an asshole.”

For a moment, there’s silence. Walker looks mortified and angry. Yelena is clearly holding back her laughter while Ava is more focused on getting the hell out. But Bob is laughing —boyish, timid, and dare she admit it, kind of cute. And she can’t help but laugh now too. 

“Oh, god. He’s got such a point. God bless you, Bob, thank you so much for seeing things clearly,” she agrees, putting a hand on Bob’s shoulder. “Walker’s literally the worst.”

There’s a moment. The room shifts, like how it shifts when she uses her powers. But it’s darker, and she’s familiar with her room she’s standing in. It doesn’t last though. As she’s trying to figure out where she is, it shifts back. 

And suddenly she’s back in the vault, hand on his shoulder, and everyone staring at her like she’s lost her goddamn mind. Maybe she has, because she’s worried she’s accidentally lost control. And that’s never happened before. She’s usually in far more control —but she chalks it up to anxiety and shakes herself out of it. She didn’t mean to do it; it wasn’t on purpose. Bob does seem a bit put out by it though; blue eyes wide as he stares at her like he’s done something wrong. 

“Sorry, I —,” he starts, but an alarm goes off, interrupting her thoughts and she drops her hand from Bob’s shoulder. 

“We need to get out of here,” Yelena states, pointing to the clock on the wall. “We find the console that controls the barrier, Ava can get through and open it from the other side. Once we’re out, we split up, we find an exit. Walker, keep assistant girl and Bob alive.”

There’s arguing, and their thoughts are getting louder as she’s finally coming into focus again. She wants to argue and remind them what her name is but it seems redundant at this point, given she’s probably going to die. 

Oh. Oh god. She’s actually going to die. She’s actually enough of a liability that someone wants her dead and she’s going to die in a vault underground, with a bunch of assholes and some guy named Bob. Her hand grabbed at her chest, trying to ease that panic as she fell against another crate, sitting down and breathing hard. 

“I’m going to die because I’m too good at my job,” she mumbles to herself. “God, what the fuck?”

“You’re not going to die,” Walker insists as Yelena shouts out in discovery. Walker turns his attention to the Russian, hurrying over to smash the controls in with his shield. 

“We might die,” Bob offers, as if that was reassuring. He sits beside her, hands in his lap as he picks at the skin around his nails. “It’s fine, I think.”

Another yell of triumph and they both watch as Ava phased through the walls, finding an escape. If she wasn’t so scared of death, she would have been wholly impressed. Bob patted her shoulder awkwardly —though she pulled away. 

“Don’t —I don’t want to accidentally make you see my thoughts,” she explains, frowning deeply as he drops his hand. “I appreciate the thought, Bob. I just —I don’t want to freak you out.”

“Oh,” though he doesn’t really seem to understand what she means. 

“Come on!” Walker suddenly screams, hitting the door. “Where the hell is she!”

The two civilians stand, moving to stand behind Yelena and Walker. The timer is counting down and the thoughts around her are…alarmingly accepting of their fates. Walker and Yelena both seem to be totally fine if this is where the line ends for them. And Bob…well, his thoughts are still fragmented and confusing, but he seems just as willing to die down here as the other two. 

“Oh my god,” she whispers, covering her eyes. “You’re all suicide risks.”

[jeondesu]

ೀ⋆ 🍂 LOVE ME HARDER !

── ✧ ˚. ꒰ 𝓹airing ꒱ ˒˓ idol!han jisung x f!reader ˒˓ established relationship 𝓰enre/𝓽ags. fluff, a bit angsty in the beginning but fizzles out quickly, kissing, semi-suggestive but nothing explicit, reader is implied to be shorter than jisung, 𝔀ords. 2.0k

[ 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆. ] — i had originally wrote this on my old blog for taehyung but i rewrote some parts and made it a little better. let me know what you think <3 pls feel free to reblog/leave a nice comment, it always helps me out ヽ(>∀<☆)ノ

𝓼ong 𝓲nspo: love me harder by ariana grande

Lazy Sundays were your favorite day of the week for a good reason. One of them being that you got most stuff done on Sundays as you felt more in a productive spirit. It became your ritual, dedicating the day to deep cleaning your room, tackling piles of laundry, and tending to the much needed self-care you so often neglected during the week.

You lightly hum as soft lofi music played in the background while dusting off your pretty antiques and fold your clothes. Time slipped through your fingers like silk, the afternoon fading before you could fully grasp it. By the time everything was in it’s place, you felt that familiar ache of burnout settling into your bones.

Jisung was supposed to come over today but he hasn’t texted you back in hours— you were almost positive by the time you were done he would’ve texted you but nope. No text. No call. Pure radio silence.

You kept checking your phone periodically, as if each glance might summon him— like a message would magically appear on your screen by sheer will.

It never does though unfortunately.

Sighing and huffing, you throw your phone across the bed in frustration. What’s the point in even having a phone if he isn’t going to properly communicate with it?

You head downstairs to make a smoothie to keep yourself occupied, hoping the motion would quiet your thoughts, but your mind subconsciously betrayed you. All you could think about was Jisung. His voice, low and velvet-smooth, replaying in your head like a song that you couldn’t turn off, a distant memory that was out of reach. The more time you spent away from him left you needing to fill the void, constantly keeping yourself busy not out of habit, but out of necessity; because the stillness always brought out your melancholy, and you weren’t sure how much more of that you could bear.

It wasn’t easy at all dating someone like him— not knowing when he’ll text you, not being able to just call him whenever you feel like it. Those intense feelings of yearning cloud your mind and turn you into a lovesick pup. You also don’t want to come off as clingy and text him too much since you know he’s probably working.

You hear a set of keys jingle from outside, unlocking the door. You felt frozen in time, not making any sudden movement— it was like the universe had bent in your favor and a guardian angel just answered all your prayers.

Slowly walking up to the door, heart fluttering in anticipation, you see the man who’s been occupying every corner of your mind. A smiling Jisung in front of you with a large bouquet of pink roses in his hands.

“Surprise!” Jisung beamed through the open doorway, voice bright and familiar.

What a pleasant surprise indeed. You’ve been quietly longing for this moment practically the whole day, waiting for him to come through that door and chase the ache out of your chest. His blond hair fell messily into his eyes but you could still see that he looked a bit tired. It was nice of him to give you the flowers and all, but you still felt sort of neglected by him not calling or texting. You’d spent majority of the day wondering if he’d forgotten how much space he took up in your heart.

“Wow, these are beautiful! You really didn’t have to Ji, thank you.” You flash a soft, appreciative smile as you set the flowers on the table.

“That’s my apology gift for not being able to call you all day,” he spoke earnestly, inching his way closer to you. “Things just got hectic and I didn’t have time to. I saw this really beautiful flower spot on the way here and wanted to get you a little something. Again, I’m really sorry…”

Sometimes you wonder if he’s a mind reader, he always seemed to know when something was off— doing his best to resolve a problem before it gets too out of hand. He doesn’t handle conflict very well and shuts down if the argument gets too heated.

“It’s okay Ji, I get it. You’re a busy man… you’ve got more important things to worry about than me.” The words left your lips before you could stop them— and the second they did, regret followed like a shadow. You hadn’t meant to guilt him. You just… missed him. More than words could ever convey.

“What’re you talking about y/n? You’re the most important person in my life.” Jisung expresses, voice heavy with disbelief. “I can’t believe you’d say such a thing like that.. maybe I need to do better in showing how much I love you. How much I appreciate you.”

As if he were worried you would disappear right in this moment, he steps forward, tightly pulling you into his arms. You felt as though you could cry, but you held your tears back— you couldn’t fall apart, not when he was finally here, you had to remain strong in front of him.

“N-no Ji, you’re perfect just the way you are please don’t change! It’s just… the communication could be a little better on your side.” You tried to phrase it carefully, choosing your words in a way that wouldn’t hurt his feelings.

He simply nods in agreement, “you’re absolutely right. From this day forward I’ll try my best to communicate with you better. I truly never realized how much of an effect that can have on you. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Jisung please, it’s fine. Stop apologizing so much, I’m just… I’m glad you’re here with me right now.” You nuzzle into his chest and play into the palm of his hand, allowing the beat of his heart to calm any of the persisting doubts that loomed over you.

“Me too y/n, me too.”

‧ ꙳ ੭ * ‧ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ‧

You cuddled in bed with Jisung for the rest of the day, the glow of random Netflix movies flickering across the dimly lit room. Not that either of you were really watching to begin with— your mouths found each other too easily, too often, kisses bleeding into each new scene as if you were writing your own story between each breath.

His leg was sprawled over yours with his arm wrapped around your waist, peppering gentle kisses to the side of your face, pressing up against you— both your body heat combined was hot enough to light a match. It didn’t matter how long you’ve been with him for, the tension between you two was beyond frustrating.

Jisung never pressured you into things though, he liked it better when you initiate something more because he knows you’re having a good time. He cared more about you than he did himself and what you said earlier still weighed heavy on his mind.

“Am I a bad boyfriend to you y/n? Be honest, I can take it..” Jisung asks on a whim.

You blinked slowly, caught by surprise. “No, what the hell? You’re not at all, I love you so much my JiJi.”

“Then why do I feel so bad for what you said earlier? There’s gotta be some truth behind you thinking that you’re not important to me.”

You sighed as your head hung low, tracing idle patterns across his chest. “I don’t know why I’d say that… it just came out I’m sorry. I know you value me, I know you love me, I was just upset in that moment and should’ve have said it. We both have things to work on so I’m glad we’re talking more about this actually.” You feel better now that you were able to healthily communicate with him about all this.

“Yeah, I agree.” Jisung admits, running a hand through his hair. “I need to work on actually looking at my phone sometimes. I’ve just been so tired from all this back and forth traveling, I get jet-lagged easily.”

“I get it, it’s hard and although I may not understand I can definitely sympathize. I’m here for you whenever you need me Ji, I’m your ride or die until the end, right?” You look up at him again, getting closer in proximity to his face.

“Right.”

He leans in to capture your lips into another kiss, which leads back to you making out yet again. Things grew a little too heated when his hands sneak down a bit lower than they’re supposed to. You tsk at him and he turns red as a tomato, looking away at you with a sheepish grin.

“Later Ji, I was sweating a bit earlier and would like to freshen up before we get into… all that.” You know he definitely doesn’t care and a little bit of swear wasn’t going to turn him off but he wants to do what’s best for you anyway— he always respected what made you feel most comfortable.

You rose from the bed to get ready for your shower and he gets up to examine all the things on your dresser. Eyes curiously scanning over the newly reorganized collection of beauty products— neat rows of perfumes, palettes, and perfectly arranged lipsticks.

“I never realized you had this much makeup y/n, how do you even keep track of it all?” Jisung probes, fascinated by all the different kinds of makeup there were.

“You literally wear makeup too… you should know that it’s always important to have lots of options!” You exclaim, shaking your head at him going through your different shades of lipstick.

He spots a pretty light pink color and applies it on his lips, dramatically turning towards you to show off the final look.

“You think this shade suits me?” He points at his lips that formed a tiny pout and jokingly winks at you.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Honestly? That color looks way better on you than me, you should keep it!”

Curse this man’s insanely out of this world good looks.

He chuckles at your comment and continues looking through your stuff, swatching the eyeshadows on his wrist, he looked like he was having a field day.

“You seem to be really enjoying my things, huh?” You inquire, eyeing the vibrant colors on his skin.

“I just think it’s cool,” Jisung mused, still aimlessly swatching colors across his wrist like tiny brushstrokes on a canvas. “I find things like this to be artistic in a way. Makeup can be used as a form of self expression, you know? I always liked that.”

You love how your boyfriend can be so secure in his own masculinity, that it doesn’t matter for him to find interest in these things. It’s what made you even more attracted to him, his inner femininity shined through so beautifully.

He wasn’t scared to break norms with you either, he enjoyed doing the cooking (if he didn’t burn the house down), house cleaning, and running small errands for you without even asking. His love for you stretched so far that he’d do anything to prove he deserved you. It was a very healthy and balanced relationship but still, he did get in his head a lot about if he was good enough for you.

Before you get in the shower, Jisung holds your arm in place to say one last thing.

“I know I’ve probably said this for the millionth time today but, I love you y/n. Truly, I do. There’s not a single person in this world I’d imagine being with other than you. Thank you for being so patient with me and sticking by my side. You really are my person.”

He pulls you in for another warm hug, holding you like this was his last day on earth— he slightly towered over you, he could just kiss the top of your head. You couldn’t stop smiling at him, it was precious moments like these that you cherished near and dear for the rest of your life.

“I love you so much Ji, you’re everything I need and value in a partner. I know that as long as we have each other, we can get through anything.”

perm taglist: @justwonder113 @emilyywhyy @leeknowslefteyebrow @min-doesnt-know @velechi @kayleefriedchicken @jeonginsbaee @thelittletobsterthatcould @queenofdumbfuckery @met30rc1ty @mouthfullobats @geni-627 @amarecerasus @emma-your-goofy-girlfie @n4tr3ad5 @cowboylikemalika @obsessivemuso-withnofriends @skzfangirl143 @mmarusa @velvetskize @seungmyynie @trixiekaulitz | if you wanna be tagged in any of my future posts fill out this form here. ♡

[traveler-at-heart]

Stuck Together - Part 6

Summary: After Westview, Wanda and her children go into hiding. She's not happy with the person in charge of protecting them.

Wanda Maximoff x F! Super Soldier R

A/N: This is a short chapter! There will be another one and that will be it for this series :) Ty all for reading!

A cold hand squeezes your neck, and you know that a normal person would be dead by now.

It isn’t human, that’s very much obvious. Looks like Vision, but you remember him differently. Definitely not all white, with those unsettling blue, void eyes.

“I have to kill you”

“Hey, man, we can work it out. Is it because I kissed Wanda?” you try to joke, holding on to his metal arm, hoping there’s a way he can let you go. The lack of oxygen is blurring your vision, but you have to do something.

You have to protect the kids.

“Wanda. Where is she?” he says in that monotone voice that you always hated.

“Not gonna tell you, you freak” you say. “Kids, run back…”

But he’s squeezing your throat, probably trying to make you speak.

Good luck with that, fucking toaster.

A second later, you drop to the floor, gasping for air. As you look up, there are red threads of magic around the synthezoid.

Wanda.

“You ok, detka?” she says, looking at you.

“Yeah, I guess he got a little too jealous, huh?”

“That’s not Vision” she says, looking away. “Take the kids, get out of here”

“No, you get out of here” you say, standing up. You notice the robot is struggling to break free, Wanda’s hand trembling with the effort of keeping him still.

“I’m the only one that can stop him. And I created this mess”

You recognise the guilt in her voice, the burden of thinking every wrong thing that happens must be some kind of punishment.

But that’s bullshit.

Wanda’s not alone, and you won’t leave her.

“Please leave” she repeats, and you know she read your mind. You shake your head no.

“I’ll buy you some time. Take the car and the kids. Drive as fast as you can. I’ll stop him”

“Ok” she finally nods. She twists her hands, throwing the robot as far as she can. Before she runs, though, she turns to kiss you, holding on to you like it’s the only thing keeping her sane.

“I…”

“I know” you smile, pecking her lips. “See you soon, love”

The kids reach for their mother, and you whistle at Riley.

“Go, fetch!”

Your dog runs back to the shed where you keep all your weapons, and you hope training actually paid off.

As for you, you brace yourself for the return of the robot, who seems to be flying back at full speed. You try to remember the few times that you trained with Vision, kicking yourself over being so dismissive of him.

Truth be told, he never really engaged in hand to hand combat.

So, maybe that’s it. Keeping him close will make it harder for him to fight.

Or easier to get yourself killed.

Well, you’re about to find out.

This time, you are prepared for the hand that reaches for your throat, and you punch it away. He’s faster than you remember, and even if you keep him busy, there are a couple of blows that land, and you feel the air leave your lungs, ribs cracking.

“Riley, hurry up, please” you mutter, grabbing the robot by the cape to hold him back.

In that precise moment, you hear a bark, and turn to find your dog excitedly dragging your old shield. All those frisbee jokes paid off in the end.

“Good girl, I owe you a treat. Now out of here”

Sliding down the pier, you grab the shield, turning around just in time to block one of Vision’s attack. It comes back to you like second nature, throwing and catching the shield while you defend and attack.

He begins to anticipate your movements, and at one point blocks one of your punches, sending the shield flying back.

“Fuck, that hurts”

It’s also been a while since you’ve felt your nose breaking. Last time was probably during training with Steve. That was an accident, but it’s very clear that Vision wants you out of sight.

Cold hands reach for you, throwing you against a tree that snaps in half. Before you can stand up to jump and dodge his next hit, an arrow flies past your head, exploding right in his face.

“Bet you’re happy to see me”

Barton.

“You know what? Hell, yeah” you say, catching the shield when he throws it back to you.

“I got someone on the line for you” he says, throwing you a com as well. You place it in your ear, testing it.

“Y/N?” Maria says, and you adjust the shield in your arm while Clint keeps shooting arrows at Vision.

“Hill”

“Hayward sent Vision. Or not Vision. Whatever he is”

“See? I told you to let me kill him”

“We’re trying to hack into its system, but it might take a while. Can you distract him?” Maria says, and you hear her typing at full speed.

“Fine. Hurry. He’s here to kill us, and he ain’t messing around”

Your point is proven a second later, when he throws a boat your way. Clint manages to shoot an arrow straight to his shoulder, an electrical current going through its system.

Vision falls to the floor, weakened, and you take advantage to throw yourself at him. You fight, Clint unable to shoot an arrow as you’re too close to the robot to have a clean view.

Vision takes advantage of this, using you as a shield when Barton decides to shoot, the arrow going straight through your abdomen.

“Shit, Y/N!” Barton says, hurrying to your side. Vision blocks his path, but you can’t be too concerned with that, not when there’s a freakin arrow coming out of your stomach.

With a grunt, you pull it out, feeling the wound heal as you stand up. Your face is full of bruises, a testament of the synthezoid’s strenght. You bounce your shield against his head, attracting attention back to you so Clint can take some distance and shoot from another spot. Unlike you, he won’t survive hand combat against Vision.

“Clint, I’m running out of ideas” you shout, still fighting.

“And I’m running out of arrows”

Great.

You have so many wounds, cuts and broken bones that it takes longer to heal, and Vision looks fine. He doesn’t have a body, so he is not tired, not even out of breath.

“Maria, status”

But you don’t get to hear her answer, Vision covering his ears and grunting. It seems like she’s finally breaking into his systems.

Or making him more lethal, as he grabs you by the collar of your shirt, flying you to the middle of a mountain. You land in a cloud of dust, face inches away from a cliff.

“Did it work?” Maria asks.

“Nope”

She curses, but you’re starting to realise his system is too advanced to hack into. As you look at the rocks above your head, an idea forms.

“Barton, can you shoot at a spot above me? Anything that causes an explosion”

“Not from here”

“Then find a spot and wait for my signal”

“Are you sure?” he says, folding his bow. He already knows what the plan is.

“No, but we don’t have many choices, do we?”

He sighs, knowing that the plan might work, but you won’t survive it. Though you have been through worse sometimes.

“You don’t have to kill them, you know? They’re kinda your family” you try to distract the robot.

“I don’t have a family. Only a mission”

“Your loss, they are pretty damn cool kids”

Finally, you trap one of his arms with your shield, getting suck in a pile of rocks. You try to make time, waiting for Clint’s confirmation.

“I’m in position”

“Shoot above my head”

“You’ll get trapped too”

“I’ll manage” you grunt, trying to keep Vision from flying. He can escape, but only if you let him. “Barton, I don’t have time! You owe me, for Natasha. So just do as I say”

You don’t wait to hear his answer, panicking when you notice Vision is freeing himself. You jump on his back, locking his head in a tight position. He pushes you both to the edge, and you bring him back to the other side, waiting for the explosion.

That’s when you realise how strong he is. He crushes your arm, but you hold on through the pain, even when tries to twist one of your knees.

Finally, you hear an arrow flying close to your head, and the explosion shakes the mountain a second later. Boulders begin to roll, but you don’t move. One hand is above your head, holding your shield and hoping it’s enough to protect you.

Rocks bury the lower half of Vision’s body, but you can’t let go just yet. It isn’t until you see a giant rock rolling your way that you free him, stumbling backwards.

Something hits your head, blood spiling down your forehead as you jump into the river, hoping the fall won’t kill you.

But you pass out before reaching the water.

—

There are bright lights. A constant, beeping sound. Something in your arm.

Not again.

Your mind begins to race, haunted by the memory of years of torture and betrayal, done by your own government.

But then, there’s quiet. You feel a warm touch in your forehead, the softness making your body relax.

“It’s ok, detka. You’re safe”

Wanda.

You open your eyes, looking around the hospital room.

“Hey, witchy”

“I hate it when you call me that”

“I know” you say with a smile. “But could I possibly get a pass? Seeing as I’m in recovery”

“Sure you can, sweetheart” she says, hand in your forehead.

The way she gives in so easily has you worried. There’s something wrong.

“How are the kids? What happened after?”

“They’re fine. Staying with Clint. I just wanted to make sure you recovered before…”

“Before?”

“Before leaving. It’s for the best”

“Wanda” you try to straighten in the bed, grimacing. “Come on, don’t do this”

“You got hurt because of me. It just… this follows me everywhere I go. Death and chaos. I can’t put your life on the line, I’d never forgive myself”

“Wanda, please” you ignore the pain in your side, stretching your hand, searching for hers.

But she moves further away.

“I’ll be ok. And you’ll be better off without me”

“Wanda” you ask once again, but your eyelids feel heavy. You try to stay awake, even as your body is shutting down, and pretty soon you’re fast asleep again.

You know it’s her doing. She’s keeping you from asking her to stay.

Because she knows she’s not strong enough to say no to you.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Remy fic for @littlekidsteve

It has only been a little while since you and Remy had managed to escape the void along with Electra, Laura and Blade before biding them farewell, all the while you and Remy took a long walk as you both tried to figure out what you were going to do now that you were free.

Out of everyone you and Remy were the closet and so the idea of saying goodbye to one another after everything felt wrong, Remy had become apart of you as you became a vital part of him, so much so to the point neither of you could fathom an life without the other being apart of it some way or another.

‘Got any plans now that we’ve escaped the void?’ You asked him and he hums while shuffling his playing cards, a habit you noticed he had whether he was in need of a distraction or in deep thought.

‘I have been in the void for so long that I didn’t think I’d ever get out mon Cher, nor would get out so I made my inescapable prison a home, so all this is…rather new to me.’ Remy admits as he looked over at you with a soft expression before nudging you with his shoulder. ‘You have lived a life before the void, I think you’d be better suited for that question.’

You chuckled as you rubbed the back of your neck. ‘Yeah well I’m pretty sure they’ve pruned it by now, so I’m just as lost as you are and I haven’t been in the Void nearly as long as you have.’ You told him and Remy couldn’t help but chuckle as he went to grab your hand, intertwining it with his own. ‘Then we shall find a way to navigate our new life, together.’ He promised as he then brought your hand up to his lips before softly kissed it.

‘You promise?’ You asked.

‘I promise mon Cher.’ Remy echoed and suddenly everything felt like it was going to be okay, the void was long behind you both as the future was on the horizon, waiting for your both to take it

And soon enough with time and patience you and Remy found yourselves in your own little apartment -that was funnily enough not far from where Wade, Blind Al and Logan lived- and living a quiet, domestic lifestyle, just like you had wanted for a long time but couldn’t due to certain circumstances. You couldn’t help but smile softly upon first seeing Remy with an peaceful expression on his face as he slept, he looked beautiful and at ease with everything that you found yourself admiring him in silence, not wanting to ruin this moment by sneezing or shifting your weight and waking him by accident.

‘Wade is right. You are beautiful.’ You muttered lowly as you memorised his face and the way the light from the window made his skin glow an almost golden hue, making him look ethereal, as you took the time to appreciate the way his eyelashes kissed the apples of his cheeks. Remy was a handsome man and you were in no shape or form to deny it when you were more then aware of this face since the moment you met, but it wasn’t his physical appearance that drew you in but more or less his heart and his ability to light up anything that he touched, and soon enough you found yourself falling for the Cajun Frenchman more then you’d originally thought.

Remy has consumed your every waking and sleeping thought, claimed your body and heart as his own with how his eyes never seemed to leave you the moment you entered the room, smiling at you warmly before cross over to stand next to you for the rest of the day while occasionally showing off a new card trick he learnt. Even during combat Remy would stay close by to keep you safe when he felt that someone was getting too close for comfort by throwing one of his kinetically charged playing cards at them, and when you look over at him he just winks at you and continues the fight.

‘I can sense you watching me mon Cher.’ Remy said as he smiles cheekily, opening one eye to look at you as he brought a hand behind your head, pulling you in for a brief but sweet kiss before pulling away to look at you. ‘Am I really as beautiful as you say?’ He adds in a whisper as though he didn’t want anyone else to hear your conversation.

‘You can’t be blind to your own beauty can you Remy?’ You asked as you moved a hand to rest upon his chest, tapping your fingers against his skin in an unheard rhythm.

‘I’m not, I just want to hear you say it.’ Remy replied as he found his eyes wandering across your face with fondness and admiration. You couldn’t help but laugh as you rested your head against his chest, nuzzling into him. ‘You are indeed beautiful Remy Lebeau, the most beautiful man I have ever laid my eyes on.’ You admit as you look at him, pressing a kiss to his chin as you felt his arms tighten on you, restraining you from moving away from him.

‘You flatter me Cher, but it is you who’s the most beautiful.’ Remy says as he presses a kiss to the top of your head, breathing in the shampoo and conditioner you used and closing his eyes, never having the luxury of experiencing peace before in his life but finding himself falling in love with it as fast as he did with you. Remy felt as though he could stay in this bed forever with you but knew with your plans for later today he wouldn’t, though that didn’t stop him from doing whatever he could to keep you in his arms.

‘Wade, Logan, Laura and their friends are coming over soon.’ You murmured.

‘I know.’ Remy relied.

‘We should get up soon.’ You continued.

‘I know.’ Remy repeated as he kissed your head again, cuddling you further into his chest. ‘We’ll get up soon, but for now can we just…stay here, please Cher.’ He adds in a plea and you couldn’t help but feel yourself slipping into sleep the longer you stayed in Remy’s comforting and strong arms.

‘I guess five minutes wouldn’t hurt.’ You said as you nuzzled yourself into his neck, kissing it. ‘Then we’ll have to…to…wake.’ Before you could finish your sentence you had found yourself fast asleep as Remy smiled down at you. ‘I’m sure they won’t mind Cherie, they’ll understand.’ He says before joining you in dream land.

Bonus:

‘Where the fuck are they?!’ Wade shouted as he, Logan, Laura, Al, dogpool and the rest of his friends stood outside in the hallway to yours and Remy’s apartment after banging on the door for the past five minutes.

‘They’re probably still asleep, best we leave them be before we fucking wake the rest of the apartment complex.’ Logan said, side eyeing Wade as he sifted the welcome gifts in his arms.

Wade pouts and just as they were about to leave, a rugged and scruffy looking you and Remy opened the door to greet them as Wade laughs. ‘You two looked like as though we’ve interrupted something between you two.’ Wade the leaned towards you to whisper. ‘Is the French dick that good?’ You glared at him as you flicked him on the forehead, watching him as he winced and rubbed his forehead with a pout.

‘We may or may not have overslept thanks to someone.’ You nudged Remy in the side as he smiles cheekily and brings an arm to your waist, tugging you into his side. ‘Guilty as charged.’ He said proudly as you both stepped aside for everyone to enter your shared apartment before joining them, happy to have known such weird yet beautiful people.

[elliescoquettegirl]

Papercuts

ellie williams x fem reader

────────────────────── starting university you thought would fulfill you, the empty void inside you. that changing your whole life would solve your problems. it didn't, it actually made it worse. now you were completely alone, in a place far away from home and everything you once knew. you started working at a bar to fill your empty weekends. that's when you met ellie, your coworker and also someone that studied a year above you. would she perhaps help you fill this void of loneliness and uncertainty of yourself and your future? contains smut! mdni!

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Series Next chapter:

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Prologue:

You thought starting university would somehow fill this void inside you. But it didn't. You're even more unsure of yourself and stuck in your own head. Away from your family and friends, in a city you've never been in before. You thought making friends would be easy, but everything feels like a wall around you slowly moving closer, trapping you there. Literature, films and stories of older generations painted it to be one of the best years of your life. Getting in felt good, even if applying there was done on a whim. You were drunk at a bar with your friends when you accepted it. Hearing whispers of something better ahead as you clicked accept.

People in class are passionate about their studies, already having a plan after getting their degree, while you're there planning the next day, hoping to survive. Everyone is so talkative, already hanging out during their free time. Talking about the crazy bar nights they've had during the weekend, when what you've done is just lay in bed. You did join them sometimes, you could tell they wanted to know you but when you were out, everything felt robotic. You laughed when they laughed even if you didn't find something funny. The conversations always ending up being background noise, you'd just nod to make them think you were listening. Your anxiety constantly hanging in the air — thick, inescapable and you breathed it in. Their way of speaking, always signaling how sure of themselves they were. Although there was a possibility of it being a fasade, it didn't stop the insecurity from sinking in.

You got a job at a bar just so you could occupy your weekends with something. The bar was perfect, far away from campus so there would be little to no chance of you running into familiar faces. The thought of having to make small talk, while being stuck there with a classmate making something clench deep in your gut. The only familiar face you'd encounter at work being Ellie, that studied a year above you. When you began working there you would usually leave work at the same time that she arrived, only throwing quick glances at each other. The glances evolving into intense eye contact that would last a bit longer than it should. You were always the one to break the eye contact. Each time you would break it by quickly looking away, give an awkward smile and go back to pretending to focus on whatever you were working on. You probably looked dumb half the time, trying to look focused while cutting up a lemon or cleaning up the bar counter, like that takes any effort.

After those small interactions you would always lay in bed thinking about her. The way she moved with such grace. How she charmed everyone around her, instantly pulling people towards her. She was beautiful, breathtaking even. You liked that her eyes were so expressive. She's every sapphics dream. Confident but humble, childish, always fooling around but not in an obnoxious way. The two of you barely spoke, just a casual hi or have a good night. She always had a cigarette tucked between her lips and her hair pulled into in a messy half bun. The tattoo on her arm, that she always left exposed with her rolled up shirt sleeve, you would sometimes by pure instinct start drawing in your journal. A moth. You would rip up the pages and throw it in the trash. Like that would change anything about the fact that she was on your mind too much. Someone you barely knew or hadn't even spoken to.

Last week your boss had approached you, asking if you would consider switching schedules with someone else. So now you have been rescheduled to work closing shifts with her every Sunday. Breathing heavily and your legs aching from pedaling on your bike like your life depended on it as you arrived at the bar. The summer's final warmth, your face damp causing your bangs to stick to your forehead. Before walking in you tried to adjust them, this exact moment being a reminder to not cut your bangs again. You had tried to grow them out for a year, failing every time. In a moment of weakness at three am you'd always end up in front of the bathroom, scissor in hand. When you walked into the bar, Ellie was crunched forward, both elbows resting against the table whilst talking to a regular. Ellie cursed, laughed loud and even hit the customer against their shoulder when they said something funny. You wished you could be that relaxed, instead you would just hand them their drinks and speak kindly. Throwing out thank yous. Sometimes, you tried to make an effort but it just seemed too fake and the customers would notice it too. She tilted her head towards you and when you were close enough for her to finally speak, all she said was the obvious, that you were late. Her voice, gentle and raspy. She wore the usual attire, pants and buttoned up shirt, with rolled up sleeves. You didn't bother replying, knowing you would not be quick enough with coming up with a lie as to why you were late. The truth is why you were late was because you kept fixing your appearance.

The bar was practically empty. Usually during shifts like these all you would do was clean off tables or scroll mindlessly on your phone. You start going around the tables and picking up empty glasses and asking if anyone wants something. Someone ordered a glass of wine and when you went behind the counter you couldn't find it.

“I cant find this bottle of wine, are we all out?” you said.

She was still making conversation with the regular, so she excused herself and started scanning the shelves.

“Did you check the wine fridge?” Ellie asked, with a tone that probably wasn't intentional, but one that made you feel stupid. You shook your head confused since you had never been there, which you also told her. She started walking off, signaling for you to go with her. She had such a distinct walking style, if you had seen her in a crowd of people you would know it was her from an instant. Ellie opened the door to a room with fridges filled with beverages. You let out a small laugh, Ellie played with her hands and looked at you.

“Well I feel stupid now” you said.

“Havent you been working here for weeks?”, she said.

“Yeah but nothings been empty?”, you said a bit annoyed. Your arms crossing over your chest, using them as a shield.

“That explains why I've had to fill the shelves a lot more recently” she mumbled, shaking her head jokingly. It was meant as a joke, but it still left you feeling anxious.

“Oh i’m sorry”, you mumbled back covering your mouth with your hand. She walked towards you, took your hand from your face, cupping it with her hands and reassured you that it's fine. She stood so close now, her facial features even prettier up close. She had a few scars, the eyebrow slit you had seen before, which was hot as fuck but she also had smaller ones across her cheek and one under her other eyebrow. You wondered where they came from, you wish you could ask her. She was also studying your features. The sudden ring of the bell at the counter shattered the tension, ending the silent stare off between you two. She let go of your hand, her eyes widening lightly, surprised at her own doing. She lifted her shoulders and tried to brace herself confidently. She let out a quiet awkward laugh, one you have not heard before, not tonight or all the times you have eavesdropped on conversations she had with regulars or other colleagues. This made you feel more sure of yourself in relation to her, having a glimpse of her vulnerability, even if it was just a hint of insecurity for a second.

The rest of the shift was quiet, not an awkward silence though. Her playlist played low throughout the bar speakers. Ellies hand, still imprinted on yours. When customers left and you began closing the tension in the room shifted quickly. Ellie felt tense and she kept dropping things, looking at you to see if you noticed and you pretended not to. You did not really understand what was going on but suddenly it felt like maybe she was feeling exactly like you were. But perhaps she was tired, it was past midnight after all. You're scrubbing off sticky liquor from a table when Ellie finally breaks the silence.

“Are you doing something tonight?” she said with a low tone, scratching her neck.

You replied with a "no" that sounded too desperate.

“Alright then let's go” she grinned and grabbed her leather jacket from a bar stool. The leatherjacket you had seen her wear once when she passed by you as you were heading home. The jacket looked worn but not by her, from someone else. Still, it sat on her like it was made for her. You tossed the rag into the sink and grabbed your things. You didn't know where you were going but she walked towards her car.

The drive was peaceful. The same playlist again and her humming along to the songs. One hand on the steering wheel and her tattooed arm rested on her thigh. She kept looking over and opening her mouth several times, like she was gonna say something but then decided not to. Eventually she did though.

"So why have you never tried to speak to me?” she asked, with one eyebrow tilted up slightly, teasingly.

“I don't know?” you said with the know drawn out. You knew why but of course you couldn't tell her. She studied you and it felt like she saw through that answer.

Just as you thought that she said “That's not an answer” while lighting a cigarette. This woman was like a goddamn chimney. She always smelt like cigarettes, a smell you usually hated, but on her it was fine. She also smelt like chestnut? Woody? You swore it smelled like this one margiela fragrance you had tried on once.

“I really don't know Ellie” you said with annoyance. The way her name rolled on your tongue felt so right.

Ellie didn't say anything, too focused on parking her car. And perhaps not in the mood to try getting a forced answer out of you — perhaps she already knew.

The bar was dark, echoes of drunk voices everywhere. Why were there so many people drunk on a sunday, you thought. But maybe just like you, they had just finished their shift with their hot coworker that they can't stop thinking about. The thought of that calms you down in some weird way. That everyone else in there, drowned their utter panic from the intimidation of someone else in alcohol just like you were about to. It was crowded and Ellie grabbed your hand as she guided you to the bar counter. It happened too fast, you didn't have time to react or even notice. The bartender recognized her and skipped other people waiting in line, just to take her order. She got you both whiskey neat which was bold of her to assume that is something you drink, but she was right. When you were seated you drank fast, big gulps, throat burning. Touching your hair, adjusting your clothes and looking around anxiously.

Ellie let out a tiny wheeze and said “relax”. You were being so easy to read right now.

You said “I am relaxed”.

Ellie shrugged and kept up to your drinking pace. Three glasses down and conversation suddenly was a lot easier. Not the conversation turning into background, no fake smiles. You could be yourself for the first time in a long time. Your whole body warm, drunk on her and the whiskey. She asked you about why you chose this major, instead of making it a simple answer you started rambling, because you felt comfortable with her, because you were drunk. You spoke about the major and everything else. You talked about how you were kind of regretting it. You told her about your other aspirations, that there were so many choices but only one life and so many opportunities. You spoke about Sylvia Plath's fig tree, how depressing it is that you only get to live so little in such a short time and that every choice you make is so important. How are you supposed to choose just one or a few things? Caught up in your own drunk slurring words, she interrupted you.

“Rather melodramatic aren't you?” she said as she leaned closer to you. Her green eyes pierced into yours. The tone in which she had said it had your thighs burning and her cold hand brushed against it in circular motions until it eventually stayed there. She studied your reaction as her other hand played with her glass. You literally cannot come up with a response, your mind completely blurred and body reacting in such a strong way it's affecting your cognitive function. She stood up, grabbing your hand again, leading you out the door of the bar.

The sound of drunk voices slowly disappearing, the closer you got to her car. She pinned you against it. Her hands, like clockwork, landed instantly on your hips. Her grip was hard, pinching your hipbone, like she was afraid you might run away. She smirked at you and leaned in slowly, her lips crashing into yours. You could taste the cigarette and liquor on her lips. Despite her mouth being filled with smoke at any given moment, her mouth was still damp and her tongue soft, in your mouth. Soft moans in between the wet noises of your lips clashing back and forth, exchanging saliva. You bit her lower lip gently and she whimpered. The kiss was interrupted by loud drunken laughs in the distance. Ellie looked back and then at you again. Her gaze shifting between your lips and eyes. She grabbed the side of your neck and gently rubbed it with her thumb. Her body, still pinned tightly against you. You were scared she could feel your pulsating clit through your two layers of fabric — which of course wasn't possible.

She opened the door to the backseat of her car and pushed you, getting on top of you. The kiss and the touching all felt so desperate. You had been yearning for this and so had Ellie. Her hands were moving everywhere frantically, going up and down your ribs, stroking over your breast. Your hands traveling up and down her back, grabbing her hair and stroking her jaw with your thumb. She stroked circles on your inner thigh while placing kisses down your jaw. The air in the car is humid, your bodies sweaty. Ellie took off your shirt and pants desperately and the sight of you in only your lingerie made her clit pulsate and her already damp underwear even more soaked. You were delusional enough that you had put on your sluttiest underwear, daydreaming of the possibility of her undressing you tonight — after all maybe you weren't delusional when you made that move. She took off your bra. Placing kisses on your breast, cupping the other with her hand, pinching your nipple. Soft moans escaping your mouth. She made soft hums with her raspy voice, you could literally come right there on the spot. You were high on the arousal, her hand drowsily moving towards your aching pussy. Your hips working their way towards her hand.

“So impatient” she murmured into your breasts leaning in to kiss you.

“Oh shut up”, was the only thing you could come up with as a response.

You unbuttoned her pants which made her gasp into your mouth. She slid down your panties, caressing your slick warmth with tenderness.

She moaned out “So wet for me already?” in between your kisses. Ellie was wet too and you both in sync started rubbing each others clit. The sound of messy moans and distant chatter from people outside the bar was the only thing you could hear. Every move Ellie made was completely right. You hadn't been this horny in months and if she didn't stop you would come. In order to save yourself from not ruining this sacred hot moment by already coming, you sat up and pinned her down instead. Quickly taking off her pants and unbuttoning her shirt. Revealing her whole tattoo and her toned stomach. You almost moaned at the sight. Ellie, so turned on by your sudden move to pin her down, watch as your hands travel across her body. You kiss down her neck and bite her ear lightly, causing her to whimper. Your drunk sloppy kisses traveled across her toned stomach. Murmurs of your name in between her soft moans. You pull off her soaking panties and start placing kisses on her inner thigh, her hips jolting towards your face in an attempt for her pussy to reach your mouth.

“So impatient” you say, face buried between her thighs, repeating what she had said to you before. You placed soft kisses across her soaked pussy, and slowly started using your tongue. Ellie grabbed your hair into a bun in her hand, grasping onto to it harder when your tongue found her right spots. You didn't mind the pain, it was proof of the pleasure you were giving her. You looked up, her eyes already piercing into you. She yanked your face into her pussy, buring you there.

“You look so good eating me out” she said, you whimper into her pussy from her intoxicating words. Her thighs pressed against your cheeks. The way they started to shake after a few minutes. Her moans becoming loudier and messier.

“Feels so good, keep going like that” she said. You moaned loud into her pussy, swaying and buckling your own hips, trying to chase any kind of stimulation. The pace of your tongue increasing, as you started rubbing with your fingers against her entrance. Her gaze never left you, eyebrows furrowed and mouth agape. You entered her slowly, watching her eyes roll back. Your fingers pumping in and out her, hitting that spongy spot. She didn't need to tell you she was coming, you could feel it. Her pussy clenching. You looked up to see her head leaned back, eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed and mouth agape. Messy moans and curse words are all that can be heard along with the wet noises from her pussy. The pace of your tongue and fingers slowing down, helping Ellie ride out her high.

When she came undone for you, you wiped off some of her residue off your face and reached for her lips. The kiss was sloppy, her lips warm and soft. She sat up slowly, eyes not leaving yours and clapped on her thigh lightly as she spread them.

“Come here” she said.

You did what you were told and you straddled her, kissing her passionately, her fingers entering inside you with no warning. She commented on how wet you were for her. You jolted back a bit and began swaying your hips in sync of her fingers pumping in and out of you. Ellies unoccupied hand cupping your ass, slapping it lightly. Strands of salvia between you when your lips part in inbetween kisses. And the taste of her pussy lingering on both your lips from before. She rubs your clit with her thumb in slow circular motions. Your mouth is dry from moaning so much. She watches you the whole time. The faces you make as desperate sounds come from you. How her tattooed arm looks placed between your thighs. The way your breasts bounce as you ride her fingers. You burrowed yourself in her neck, moaning into her ear. She grabbed your jaw and told you to open your mouth, when you did, she spit in it. You moaned, it was all you could do. You've never had something so filthy done to you before and it turned you on immensely. You break the kiss and look down at her. The sight of her beneath you, sweaty with her brows furrowed, her bottom lip in between her teeth, focused on your pleasure. She's so fucking beautiful. Your body is so tense, pleasure overwhelming, you could fall apart on her at any moment. She felt it too. Electricity sending throughout your whole body. Your eyes never leave hers. You moaned out her name and god knows what else, your mind clouded with pleasure.

You came, hard, Ellie praising you through it. “Thats it come for me” she said.

When you were done, she gently pulled her fingers out of you which caused you to shiver. You kissed, slowly, with no rush this time. The air and your lips filled with the aftertaste of both your orgasms and cigarettes.

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NOT PROOFREAD

i wrote this a month ago but i've been too nervous to post but fuck it. second time ever writing smut or even a fic (for others to see). english isn't my first language and i'm still trying to find my own writing style, i'll gladly take constructive criticism.

also let me know if anyone would be interested in being tagged in the first chapter.

tag: @erensfart @anneboleynluvr @faggot1234

[marsprincess889]

Astrology observations

Part 10

1. An interesting difference between Rohini and Mrigashira that I have not seen pointed out is in what they enjoy (in any way): regarding food, for example, Rohini might go for heavier food, meat, sticky sugary sweets, lots of fats, things that are rich with ingredients and are generally of that nature. Mrigashiras might prefer leaves and salads over meat. I think they like dairy but love moderation, and eat way more lightly than Rohinis.

Rohinis don't have much morality when it comes to enjoyment (generally), that might manifest as them not being ashamed to indulge in stuff that might be considered ulhealthy. Mrigashiras, being extremely alert and sensitive to things that Rohini just takes in, wants to analyze what they take in. That's why they might go for "the healthy" options. They also love feeling "light" in a sense of feeling free to move how they want to. That lightnes can sometimes make them feel anxious though, and then they start to crave stability.

2. Jyeshtas are very pure-hearted (let me explain).

As we know, it's a discharging and active placement, so it's free from the "extra" and the unnecessary. It's one if the nakshatras that can be considered "pure" due to its self-reliance and refusal to depend on others. There is a sharpness and a mobility to their essence that stems from deep within their souls, and everything that they touch has that "epic " feel to it.

I'm personally a big fan.

3. To return to a point from my previous observations, Jupiter and Ketu nakshatra people need to be wary of getting swept up be their own "grandiose", especially in serious subjects like guidance, morals and spirituality (in any sense of the word), especially because people tend to naturally listen to and trust them.

Jupiter nakshatra natives love everything "big" and meaningful. Even if they have the best of intentions, they should be mindful to not throw big statements around. They might love to attach meaning to everything, and I mean, anything. Jupiter is endless growth, which can be dangerous when not checked, contrained and/or directed. They are also the "supporters" of others, and their acceptance might lead them to support faulty things.

Ketu people might be prone to ignorance and similar to Jupiter people, they have people looking up to them. While Jupiter is endless growth, Ketu is an endless void. That unwillingness to see past their judgement gives them a self-posessed energy that can be interpreted as superior by the masses, they are often put on pedastels. As always, other influences in the chart play a huge role, as this tendency is significantly reduced when a Ketu person also has Venusian influence (Venus is the materialization of Ketu's spiritual essence, making it grounded and of value), while it can be increased with added Jupiterian influence (this is based on my observations of real-life people).

4. Tiger yonis should try to control their impulses and preserve their energy more. I don't know what the coorelation is, theoretically, between them and that behavior but I've seen it many times in real life. I'm not even saying this in an accusatory tone, because that harms tiger yonis themselves, first and foremost. They might be scattered and all over the place, not knowing what to do with their energy. They're not geared towards natural integration, energetic stability and unity like cow yonis, so they should use their drive to build to control their own impulses. If implemented, I think that they can achieve a lot (they have a drive to provoke, change, build or fix things).

5. Speaking of Cow yonis, they are more sensitive than it looks. They are naturally stoic and self-reliant so you won't notice it unless they casually reveal things that confirm that, because of their own natural tendency to be honest.

6. I've seen Ketu nakshatras really hyped up, whether in online spaces from astrology accounts or in real life. And people really like to talk about them and pay attention to them. I though, this can't be a coincidence, and here's my two cents as to why this might be: I think it all comes down the very nature of Ketu, which is absorbing, heated, passive, unresponsive and unaware. As I've said, I think that inspires admiration from the masses because they're percieved as superior, and when I say "superior", I mean that they get admiration because of anything and everything, not just because of one thing. And while many people might disagree with those who admire them and pour energy into Ketu individuals, it's not a question of whether they're actually deserving of it (they may or may not be, I've seen it go both ways), it's about what makes Ketu people get that kind of attention in the first place. Absolutely crediting Claire Nakti here, because she was right when she said that individuals who are not really integrated within themselves tend to rely on and worship Ketu people. Ketu, as a force, can be really dangerous, and I think people tend to ignore that very real danger. This is not to scare anyone, obviously, but I think if you attribute all kinds of positive or important things to one type of energy you might want to think if that's really true, and why you are percieving it like that.

7. Shravana people are interesting and I think that is not recignized enough!! I think their intellectual and intrapersonal or interpersonal abilities are ignored.