#I thought about ending this one on a high note

[aquaticmercy]

Full Throttle

Summary : Bucky thinks he hooked up with a really pretty mechanic. 

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x motorcycle racer!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : cursing. Sex is implied. Bucky on a motorcycle. Purely self-indulgent fic.

Word count : 3.9k

Note : reader is a MotoGP rider! I’m still reeling from the championship battle last week that I just needed to write this. Also I apologise for everyone who wasn’t tagged in waste a moment! I lost half my notes and I’ve been trying to recover it. Hopefully it’ll be resolved by tomorrow. Enjoy!

Bucky Barnes wasn’t just drawn to motorcycles because they were fast or dangerous— at least not entirely. 

He loved them because of the freedom they gave him, the sense of control when everything else in his life felt it had spiralled into oblivion. Riding demanded focus and precision—all the things he’d spent the last couple of years training. 

When he was on his bike, the world faded away. There was only the hum of the engine, the wind in his hair, and the open road.

And sure, being on the road was fun, but sometimes, all he wanted was a challenge.

That’s when he found the dirt track in the edge of town— a place where he could train for missions that called for high-speed chases— a place he could lose himself for a while. 

It was something fun to do once in a while, you know? Sam would call this a hobby.

The roar of engines and the earthy tang of kicked-up dirt felt like home. In a way, it was strangely meditative. It reminded him of what it felt like to be human— to push himself to the limit, to make mistakes and learn.

Every Tuesday, after training, he came to the track. 

And every Tuesday, so did you.

The first time he saw you, Bucky had to do a double take. You were standing by your bike, helmet tucked under one arm, dirt streaked across your padded leather jacket.

Bucky was no stranger to beautiful people, but there was something about you that struck him differently— maybe it was the confidence in the way you carried yourself or the fire in your eyes when you looked his way. Either way, he was floored.

At first, he figured you were just another skilled rider trying to forget the world. That it was just a hobby, like it was to him. But as the weeks went on, you realised this was your life. 

It must be.

The way you rode was… incredible. Every turn was sharp, calculated. Precise. 

And despite your obvious talent, you never made a big deal about it. Just like you never made a big deal out of the fact that he was the fucking Winter Soldier. 

Of course, you knew who he was—he’d caught the occasional glint of recognition in your eyes. But you never brought it up, never asked for autographs or photos. Instead, you treated him like just another guy at the track.

That didn’t mean you didn’t flirt, though.

Every now and then, you’d throw him a cheeky grin. You’d playfully tell him things like, “Nice lap, soldier,” and Bucky would just blush (which you found adorable, of course).

He would always try to laugh it off, but the truth was, your teasing left his heart racing faster than his bike ever could.

—

Bucky had been working up the nerve for weeks, and today, he thought he would finally bite the bullet. 

Today he was going to ask you out. 

You were wiping the sweat from your brow when he leaned casually against his bike, trying to look more confident than he felt.

“You’re always here on a Tuesday,” he said, before mentally groaning at himself

What the fuck was that? He thought. Is Always here on a Tuesday really the best flirty opening line he had? It was not even an open-ended question. It was just an observation. Nice one, Barnes.

But instead of brushing him off, you paused, setting your gloves down with an amused spark lighting up in your eyes. “Could say the same for you, Barnes.” You tilted your head and gave a casual shrug, acting as if having a stunning super soldier gawking over you wasn’t flattering. “You stalking me?”

The corner of his lips curved upward, the nervous tension melting away ever so slightly. “Maybe I just like the view.”

That earned him a smirk. You let your eyes descend over him—his dark hair falling in perfect disarray, his shirt clinging to his chest under his jacket. “Sure,” you teased. 

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Maybe I’ve got a good reason to show up.”

“Oh?” you asked, stepping closer, tossing your helmet onto your bike seat with a little dramatic flair. “Don’t tell me the Winter Soldier needs more practice catching bad guys on a bike. Thought you had that down.”

“Yeah, well,” he drawled, letting his gaze linger on you. “Never hurts to train. Especially when there’s someone like you around to keep me humble.”

“Humble?” You quirked an eyebrow, folding your arms as you leaned a hip against the leather seat of the bike. “Looked pretty cocky last week, pulling that stunt to take down the bad guy.”

He blinked, genuinely surprised. “You saw that?”

It had been a theft— some guy thought he could steal experimental weapons from an old Stark warehouse and get away with it. Not his cleanest chase, but he did the job.

“Please, it was all over the news. Did you not see the four helicopters following the chase?” you said, a mischievous glint in your eye. “I gotta say, you’re not bad, Barnes.”

“Not bad?” he echoed, feigning offence.

You leaned in just a little, dropping your voice. “I’ve seen smoother turns. If you want pointers, I could teach you a thing or two.”

His lips parted, but no words came out for a moment as he processed how close you were. “You offering lessons now?”

You laughed before gesturing at his bike. 

This was his dirt bike, a recreational bike— not the one he used for the chase last week. Still, it could use a bit of… fine tuning. 

“Tell you what, soldier,” you said, “Fix that lag in your throttle response first. Then I’ll teach you a thing or two about taking corners.”

Bucky tilted his head, narrowing his eyes “There’s nothing wrong with my throttle response.”

“Oh, honey,” you purred, stepping just close enough for your shoulder to brush his. “I could hear it lagging from halfway across the track.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. 

“You saying I need a tune-up?”

“I’m saying,” you said, your voice like velvet, “that if you wanna keep up, you’re gonna need a better setup.”

He couldn’t help the grin tugging at his lips. He still didn’t have the guts to ask you out that day, but he walked away with hope, that maybe, this could grow into something more.

—

“So, you gonna tell me why you’ve been walking around with that goofy smile lately?” Sam asked, leaning back in his chair with a knowing look.

“What smile?” Bucky muttered, immediately defensive.

“The one you think nobody notices,” he shrugged. “Spill it, Buck. What’s her name?”

Bucky hesitated, running a hand through his hair. He hadn’t planned to tell anyone about his little crush. least of all Sam, but the look on his friend’s face said he wasn’t getting out of this conversation.

“Fine,” he said, exhaling. “There’s this girl.”

Sam grinned. 

“She goes to the dirt track I go to every Tuesday,” Bucky said, staring at the bottle in his hands like it held the secret to not sounding like a lovesick idiot as he told him all about you. 

—

From then on, Tuesdays became his favourite day of the week.

Bucky found himself counting down the hours until he could see you again, his mind replaying every smile, every laugh, every teasing touch.

You became bolder, not afraid of calling him handsome, of touching his arm even if it wasn’t necessary. 

And damn it if didn’t make his heart race.

One evening, after a particularly thrilling session on the track, Bucky decided he’d had enough of dancing around what he wanted. 

Leaning casually against his handlebars, he called out, “Race me.”

You looked up, one eyebrow raising in surprise. “What’s in it for me?” you asked, folding your arms and tilting your head in that way that always made his stomach flip.

“If you win,” he started, “you get bragging rights for a week.”

“A week, huh?” You repeated dramatically, “and if you win?”

Bucky’s lips curled into a slow grin, trying to appear confident even though his heart was pounding in his chest. “I get your number.”

Your giggle rang out, bright and sweet, and for a second, Bucky forgot how to breathe. “You got yourself a deal, soldier,” you said, shaking your head. 

—

The two of you lined up at the start of the track, engines growling. 

Bucky’s focus sharpened—he wasn’t just racing for pride; he was racing for the chance to finally take a step toward something he had wanted for months now. 

When the signal came, you both shot off like bullets, dirt kicking up in clouds behind your tires. Bucky pushed his bike to the limit, leaning into every corner, his muscles strained with effort, grappling the dirt bike for control. But no matter how fast he went, he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were holding back. 

You were supposed to be faster, more precise than this sloppy performance you were giving. He’d seen you before. What happened?

As you neared the final stretch, you slowed, just enough for him to surge ahead and cross the finish line first. 

He skidded to a stop, panting and exhilarated, but the smug grin on your face told him everything he needed to know.

When you walked over later and handed him a scrap of paper with your number scrawled on it, you leaned in close enough for him to catch the faint scent of sweat and motor oil. “You won it fair and square,” you said.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, his lips twitching with a grin he couldn’t suppress. “You let me win.”

“How dare you accuse me of such a thing,” you feigned innocence, but couldn’t help the grin widening on your face.

He tucked the paper into his pocket, shaking his head.

As you put on your helmet back on, you casually remarked, “Throttle’s still lagging, by the way.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Bucky groaned, pretending to be annoyed. Secretly, he was thrilled to keep the conversation going. “I think it’s the fuel filter, but I haven’t had time to swap it out.”

“I’ve got one at my place,” you told him, turning on your engine, “Why don’t you come by?”

His head snapped up, surprised at the offer. “Now?”

“Why not?” 

—

When arrived at your place, he had braced himself for something simple—a cosy apartment, maybe a small cluttered corner dedicated to your bike tools. 

What he hadn’t expected was this.

Standing in the doorway, he blinked at the modern yet homey design laid out before him. The floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the space in golden evening light, reflecting off polished floors and expensive-looking furniture. The view of the city stretched out like a postcard behind you as you stood, arms crossed, watching him with a hint of amusement.

“This… is your apartment?” he asked, taking a step inside. His greasy leather jacket suddenly felt so out of place. His gaze darted over to a marble countertop in the kitchen, a plush couch, and then the walls— lined with the kind of art he’s only seen in high society auctions.

You tilted your head, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “Not what you expected, Barnes?”

He huffed a soft laugh. “Not really…”

“Ah,” you replied, moving toward a door off the main living area. “So just because I work with bikes, I can’t have nice things?”

“I didn’t say that,” he countered quickly, following you.

You threw a sly glance over your shoulder. “Didn’t have to.”

He tried to think of a witty response, but he was distracted by the thought of you—the way you moved, confident and unbothered, like you belonged in every room you entered.

You led him to a heavy door and pushed it open, revealing a contrast to the rest of the apartment— your workshop.

The workshop smelled like oil, grease, and faintly of rubber, the air swirling with the comforting scent of metal and machinery. The walls were lined with shelves holding neatly organised tools, spare parts, and bottles of lubricants. A stripped-down high-performance bike stood at the centre of the room, its engine exposed, wires and cables hanging loose. 

Now this room, he thought, was undoubtedly you.

“This is more like it,” he murmured, his lips curving into a faint smile.

“See?” You smirked, moving to grab the replacement part he needed. “I’m not as fancy as you think.”

After pulling his bike through the back, he leaned against the wall, watching as you crouch next to his bike and get to work. 

For a moment, he was quiet.

He watched in silence— the way your hands moved with precision, the way you were entirely in your element. 

“So,” you began, glancing up at him. “What’s the Winter Soldier doing on a dirt track every Tuesday, anyway? Don’t you have, I don’t know, a world to save?”

He chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. “The world can wait.”

You laughed softly, returning your focus to the filter. 

“I get it, kind of,” you replied, loosening a bolt. “Wanting to get away from everything.”

From then on, the conversation came effortlessly. 

At first, he kept it light, sticking to anecdotes about the track or the occasional joke about his less-than-smooth bike handling in the beginning. But there was something about the way you listened—your easy, genuine curiosity—that made him feel safe, like he didn’t have to keep everything locked away anymore.

At one point, he couldn’t help but ask how someone who worked with bikes could afford a place like this. You only shrugged with a smile, giving the same answer you always did: “I got lucky.” He didn’t press, though he was curious—the ease in which you sidestepped the question intrigued him.

Before long, the conversation drifted again. He found himself sharing more than he ever thought he would. He told you about his missions, the chaos of his Winter Soldier days, the things he’d done and the memories he was still piecing together. 

And you listened—not with pity, but with an understanding that felt rare, even among the people he called friends.

“You’re good at this,” he finally said. 

“Bikes?”

“People,” he admitted, his eyes flicking to yours.

“Well, bikes are like people,” You tilted your head, studying him with a small, curious smile. “Both require care, attention, and understanding to perform at their best.”

When you finally finished, you stood, wiping your hands on a cloth. “All set,” you said, gesturing toward his bike. 

“Thank you.” he said, though he made no move to leave. Instead, he lingered, his eyes on you as you leaned back against the counter.

“So,” you said, breaking the thick silence, your voice dipping into something almost playful. “You gonna stick around, or do you have somewhere to be?”

“Nowhere important,” he admitted quietly.

He took a step closer, then another.

The space separating you seemed to dissolve, his eyes locked on yours, pulling you in like gravity.

“Careful,” you murmured, teasing. “I might think you’re stalling just to spend more time with me.”

His lips curved into a faint, almost shy smile. “And if I am?”

The words hit you like a shot of adrenaline, your heart beating out of your chest. There was no humour in his tone, no hint of the usual back-and-forth banter that had defined so many of your conversations. Just desire staring back at you.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely audible. “I wouldn’t mind.”

He was close now, so close you could feel the heat rolling off him, his metal hand brushing against the counter as he leaned in.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice rough, a low growl in his throat. He cupped your jawline, mustering all the courage she could possibly gather. 

You didn’t.

Instead, your lips parted in anticipation as he leaned in. Unable to bear it any longer, you tilted your head up, meeting him halfway.

The first press of his lips against yours was gentle, and the second was anything but. The restraint shattered immediately, giving way to something feral. His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he pulled you closer, his lips moving with a hunger that’s been brewing since he first saw you on the track.

Your hands found his chest, sliding up to his shoulders, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. You tugged him closer, your chest pressing against his. He let out a low moan that sent a shiver down your spine.

When you finally broke apart for air, your foreheads rested together, your breaths mixing in the narrow space between you. His voice was husky, as if he was still recovering. “I should really take you out on a date first.”

You let out a shaky laugh, your hands still fisted in his shirt. “You can still do that.”

His lips brushed yours again. “Aren’t you trouble?”

“You love it,” you whispered, grinning wickedly as you pulled him back in.

The next kiss was hotter, hungrier—  it consumed you both. His hands slid to your waist, gripping you firmly as he backed you out of the workshop and into the apartment. 

Your movements were uncoordinated, messy, your lips never leaving his as you stumbled against walls, furniture, and whatever else got in the way.

By the time you reached the bedroom, nothing else mattered.

—

Bucky woke to the soft light peeking through your curtains.

The scent of coffee reached him first. When he stumbled out of your bedroom, he spotted you at the marble kitchen counter, leaning on your elbows with a steaming mug in hand. You were dressed in one of your oversized shirts— and looked far too innocent for all the filthy things you did to him last night.

“Mornin’ doll,” he greeted  as he sat across from you.

“Morning,” you chuckled at his adorable tousled hair. 

“So…” he started, his voice thick with sleep, “about that date…”

You smirked, setting your mug down and sauntered around the island kitchen. “Thought you’d never ask.”

“Sunday?” he offered, watching you with a lazy smile as you perched on the stool next to his.

You shook your head, “I work weekends.”

That caught him off guard, but he didn’t let it show. “Remind me what exactly it is you do?”

“Bikes,” you said simply, the corner of your mouth twitching like you were holding back sensitive information.

He chuckled, assuming you were talking about your mechanic work. “Fair.”

You hummed, but the mischievous glint in your eyes didn’t escape him.

He tilted his head, curiosity tugging at the edge of his thoughts, but he decided not to push. You’d tell him when you wanted to. Instead, he flashed a small grin. “I’ll text you to arrange something, then.”

“You better,” you teased, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “You won my number, Barnes. Don’t make me regret giving it to you. 

The challenge in your tone made his smirk widen, his hand slipping around your waist to pull you closer. “Oh, I won’t.”

—

That Sunday, Bucky was slouched on Sam’s couch, one leg kicked over the side of the coffee table, a book resting on his chest. Sam, on the other hand, was waging war with the TV remote, flipping through channels at record speeds.

“Just pick something already,” Bucky grumbled without looking up.

Sam rolled his eyes, ignoring him. 

“Oh, MotoGP’s on,” he said suddenly, tossing the remote aside.

Bucky didn’t even glance at the screen at first, the low growl of engines and the commentator’s frantic observation was little more than background noise. But something about the sheer speed on display tugged at his attention. He finally looked up— and when he did, he could not take his eyes off the screen.

The camera focused on a Ducati weaving through the pack with a relentlessness that looked… familiar. The rider’s movements were fluid, each turn carved with precision, every overtake risky but calculated.

“Holy shit,” Sam muttered, leaning forward. Sam wasn’t the biggest fan— but he did watch these races from time to time. It always intrigued him, the danger they willingly took to win a race. “Look at—did you see that overtake?”

Bucky didn’t respond, his eyes locked on the rider. There was something about them—the way they leaned into each corner, never hesitating, always pushing for the absolute edge of human limitation.

The commentator’s voice broke through his thoughts.

“And there it is! The factory Ducati taking the lead with that beautiful overtake from the inside line! Unbelievable control!”

The Ducati was now in front, pulling away from the others as the final lap approached. 

Bucky watched, as they flew through a sweeping right turn, knees and shoulders skimming the asphalt like it was second nature.

As the Ducati roared down toward the finish line, the chequered flag waved. 

First place.

The crowd erupted, but Bucky barely heard it. The rider slowed, their gloved fist pumping the air, before coming to a stop after the cooldown lap. 

The other riders were congratulating them, patting their helmet with friendly taps.

Soon, the camera zoomed in, capturing the moment they pulled off their helmet.

And Bucky’s stomach dropped.

It was you.

No helmet, no visor—just you, smiling that confident smile that he knew so well.

Oh. He was stupid. Bucky Barnes was so incredibly stupid.

Of course you were a motorcycle racer. The sleek apartment, the effortless style, the way you moved on the dirt track. The way you told him you worked on weekends— it all made perfect sense.

And yet, somehow, he'd convinced himself you were a mechanic. Of course he did.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, bolting upright.

Sam shot him a confused look. “What?”

“That’s her,” Bucky said, his voice low in disbelief.

“Who’s ‘her’?”

“The mechanic,” he said, gesturing at the TV, as you celebrated with your team of race engineers. “The girl I told you about. That’s her.”

Sam blinked, staring at the screen, then back at Bucky. “Wait—you’re telling me she fixed up your fuel filter?”

Bucky didn’t answer, still staring at the screen. You were heading toward the press now, handing your helmet to a crew member as reporters swarmed you.

The camera cut for a post-race interview. You looked exhilarated, but still composed as you answered questions about your strategy— about the win. 

Then the interviewer threw in a curveball:

“You’ve been on a hot streak lately. Is there anyone you want to dedicate this victory to?”

You hesitated just long enough for a sly grin to tug at your lips. Then, you looked directly into the camera.

“This win’s for a super soldier,” you said, your tone as playful as ever. You made a phone gesture with your fingers and winked. “Call me, Barnes.”

Bucky’s jaw dropped.

Sam burst out laughing, but in no less shock. “I cannot believe you hooked up with her! Bucky, You lucky son of a—“

But Bucky wasn’t listening anymore.

He couldn’t believe it. Of course he could keep up— you were literally leagues ahead of him.

And somehow, you were still into him. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Sam said, nudging him hard enough to make him wince. “You gonna call her or not?”

Bucky didn’t answer, already scrambling for his phone. His hands trembled a little as he unlocked it, a smile already tugging at his lips.

He wasn’t sure what he was gonna say when you picked up, but he knew one thing for certain: Tuesdays just got a whole lot more interesting.

-end.

[bakukatsuki]

— i will always find you.

pairing: katsuki bakugo x f!reader contains: no NSFW, no quirks, minor gore (blood n zombies obv), angst but a happy ending, kissing, aged up, & no manga spoilers.

★ ! zombie apocalyspe. a few months after graduating high school and now in college about to finish your second semester when all of a sudden the society you once lived in turned into an outbreak. you find yourself searching for supplies to survive until you meet someone after going solo.

author note: this is SUPER long but ive always had a spot for whenever I come across someone's work and it's based off of the zombie apocalypse so I decided to finally write my own. please enjoy reading! ‧₊˚✩彡

it wasn't supposed to be like this. you were supposed to be in your college class like any other regular day, going to grab a coffee with friends or studying for your next exam until the world has done a complete turnaround. you always thought it would only happen in movies, joking around with your friends if a zombie apocalypse were to happen until it became a reality.

the virus was quick to get people turning them into lifeless parasites. the zombie apocalypse had become a reality. you remembered the screams of your friends who tried to defend one another when the campus started to flood with zombies. standing in your place too scared to do anything as you watched all of your friends either crying for help or screaming at you to run.

and you ran. you didn't look back as you held back tears and prayed for your friends as you ran off campus to your parent's house. grabbing your keys from your pocket you unlocked the door before slamming the door shut. you shut your eyes as you heard screams going on outside. shaking your head, you called out for your parents as you ran around the house before running upstairs.

standing there as your keys fell from your fingers to the ground you read the letter they had left you in their room. they left without you and told you that they had gone north to go see your older brother who was in the military for safety. it didn't feel real. you knew you didn't have the best relationship with your parents as they always favored your older brother the moment you were born but you didn't know you were that unworthy to them that they had left you behind to see your brother.

but that was approximately 121 days ago which means it's been four months since the outbreak started and its been four months since you've been alone. you stayed at your house for a month before the area got too populated with these lifeless parasites. you had to leave. packing your bag with all the essentials you needed and left without looking back.

you didn't know where to go but north. although you didn't want to see your parents for abandoning you back at home the moment the world started crashing down. you wanted to see your brother. he was your best friend from day one and he was the only reason for you to keep fighting every day, traumatizing yourself with constant fear of having to fight for your life every day.

here you are now, packing a few items to bring with you as you set off for an expedition for supplies. you had found a place that seemed safe for now before finding another place to crash at.

heading your way to the pharmacy you had found while finding the place you slowly peeked inside, examining the store to make sure the place was clear before entering. holding one hand near your back pocket where you had your knife you looked through the aisles, grabbing a few things such as snacks and bandages before you heard a noise from the entrance you came from.

you held your breath as you looked over the shelf, seeing a tall, slim but built blonde enter the pharmacy. your hand grabbed onto your knife as you watched his every move before accidentally leaning onto the shelf and causing a noise. seeing as he looked in your direction you held your breath as you hid behind the shelf.

''come out with your hands in the air,'' he spoke. his voice was somewhat deep but raspy. ''what are you doing here.'' you asked, standing your ground behind the shelf as you heard slow footsteps coming closer your way. ''i'm not gonna hurt you, idiot. I'm here for supplies like you are but it seems like either there was nothing or your ass took everything.'' you inhaled deeply as his voice got closer.

''do not come closer. i-i have a weapon!'' you mentally cursed to yourself for stuttering as you tried to sound intimidating. you heard him chuckle before he came around the corner of the shelf and stared at you. you gasped, moving back as you held your knife out to him. ''i'm not scared to use this on you.'' he rolled his eyes as he looked at you from top to bottom. ''you wouldn-'' he stopped as you both turned your head to the entrance.

a herd of zombies was heading your way. ''shit, they might've heard us.'' the blonde cursed to himself before grabbing your hand and running to the back exit. ''what do you think you're doing?!'' though, you didn't retract your hand away from his. he continued holding onto your hand as he got the both of you away from there. ''just saved both of our asses, you idiot!''

the two of you ran near the place you had been staying. ''well, thanks but I didn't need your help.'' you said before looking at his hand still holding onto your hand. ''oh, sorry..'' he mumbled before letting go.

''bakugo.'' you gave him a look. ''what?'' he deeply sighed, ''my name is bakugo now are you gonna tell me yours?'' you stared at him for a second before telling him your name.

and that was the last time you saw bakugo. after running into each other you for some reason decided to trust him enough to bring him to your hideout that you've been crashing at. the two of you decided to stick together after that. a solid two months of just being the two of you. you had told him that you were going north to see if you could find your parents and brother who were most likely at the military base and surprisingly he was heading in the same direction too.

you've developed feelings for him. you never thought you would after everything that had happened to the world. not thinking it was possible to do or feel human things that you felt back then until now. the two of you had gotten close and soon opened up to each other about what happened or what you were doing before the virus crashed upon earth. you learned that he was attending a college not too far from yours and was studying for an exam in the college library on campus before a student started acting out and launching themself onto another student. he didn't tell you much about his friends or family and you didn't wanna push it.

its been a month without him. the two of you have moved to a different location as you both continued to travel up north until you two went on an expedition for food when a herd of zombies was heading your guy’s way, too many the both of you can handle. that was when he had yelled at you to go back to your guy's hideout as he distracted the herd to the opposite way, promising you that he'd find you. you refused to leave his side, crying for him not to and to just run with you. you couldn't lose another person.

he held your hand before bringing you into his arms. ''I promise I'll find you, I'll always find you,'' he reassured you before placing his lips onto yours. you melted into the moment the two of you had before he pushed you away, yelling at you him not to look back.

for the entirety of the one month without bakugo you had decided to give him a day before heading out to find him just to come back empty-handed. you had stopped crying yourself to sleep, reminding yourself that he wouldn't go down so easily until you had decided to listen to what he had told you and headed north but not before leaving a note behind if one day he showed up.

here you are traveling solo once again as you continue to count the days from the last time you saw bakugo. it wasn’t the same anymore. although you looked for food and supplies you had gotten thinner. it was starting to get colder as winter was heading its way. you were tired and starved. you felt as if you couldn’t make it anymore but the hope of being reunited with bakugo was the only hope you had to keep going.

your vision had started to blur. you were thirsty for water. from a distance, you can picture a place, no, a base perhaps? you couldn't think anymore before you landed on the ground unconscious.

-

you wake up confused. your eyes blinking to regain their vision before seeing that you're in a room. 'it's warm' you thought, sitting up before feeling your head pound. you must've hit your head pretty hard. you tried remembering how you got here but nothing seemed to come to mind. as you were about to remove the sheets off of you and wander off to find someone the door opened and you were met with those familiar crimson eyes you missed so much.

''baku-'' before you could even say his name you were engulfed in his arms. ''you're alive..'' you heard him mumble against your neck as his arms tightened around you as if he was scared to lose you again. he moved slightly to take a good look at you, looking to see if you were hurt and letting out a sigh of relieved to know that you were okay. ''where have you been..'' you asked, your voice cracking as your eyes slightly watered from seeing him again.

''i thought i was never *hiccup* going to see you again..'' he shook his head as he sat on the bed near you, not letting you go. ''i was going to come back but the herd drained everything out of me and i lost consciousness before i could get back to you before waking up in the same room. i tried to leave before realizing this was a safe place for you if i found you, for us'' your tears fell as you continued to listen to him, nodding and smiling when he wiped your tears with his thumb with a slight smile of reassurance. ''i guess you found me instead'' he said as he chuckled. he still couldn't believe that you were alive and here with him.

''but i promise you, y/n. i will always find you and that's a promise.'' you believed him of course. as the two of you sat in comfortable silence you looked around the room again. ''where are we?'' you asked before he replied, ''we're in a safe place, a really safe place. we're at the military base that we both wanted to find. your brother is here and so are your parents.'' you gasped, ''my family is here?'' he nodded. ''rest up, i promise you'll see them.'' you laid back comfortably in bed as you still held his hands, enjoying the feeling of being back with bakugo.

[t3a-tan]

How would Oliver handle a human child that didn't have bad intentions but was not gentle enough? Let's say the kid just doesn't really understand the terms "gentle" and "fragile" well enough to know how to handle Oliver and somehow he ended up being held by them? He is so good with kids that I wanna see how he handles that

I had a lot of fun with this! Enjoy ^^

Word Count: 4071

---

Oliver couldn't stand seeing upset children. Not because they annoyed him, but because sometimes you could tell just by looking at these children that they were being neglected in some way. Part of him was sympathetic— he had seen so many human couples in his travels and research, and it was often the case that the neglect was unintentional.

But still. Oliver couldn't help but intervene in some cases. Below a certain age it was too dangerous to approach a child— infants and young toddlers tend to put things to their lips, because that's how they explore new things; ie. Oliver.

Past that it was still risky, but he could handle the bruises. Children could be a lot more delicate than most think— once they are capable of reasoning and can communicate, it's simply a matter of finding how best to deal with that particular child in order to get what they need; whether that's food, attention, or entertainment.

Today, whilst checking the houses to update any files he had, he noticed a young child— perhaps only 3 or 4— who had been left all alone. No car in the driveway, no one else in the house. Their face was a bit red and eyes a bit watery, as if they had only stopped crying maybe ten or so minutes before he arrived, but they were still hiccuping and gasping every now and then, in distress.

After checking over his file and taking a look at the calendar in the kitchen, it became clear what had happened. Both parents had left to work and forgot to drop their toddler off at nursery— perhaps just because they were tired, or maybe because both thought the other would do it.

The toddler was half dressed too, so maybe they were in a rush; one parent could have gotten the toddler half dressed and then headed off and told the other to deal with it, only for a miscommunication to happen and…the poor babe be left alone.

With that investigation done, Oliver could not just stand by in the walls and watch. He could not rely on one of the parents realising what had happened, and the longer this went on the more likely it would result in trauma for the child. It may already be the case— though he hoped not.

Three or four…that was a pesky age. Some children that age could reason fairly well— some could not.

Oh well… I will just have to try my best.

He could see a few notes on the counter or up on the fridge mentioning a name that was likely the toddler's; Ava. With that in mind, he made his way to the living room, which is where she was currently sitting and staring at the door. He took off his glasses and left them in the walls beforehand, not wanting them to get broken.

Starting high was safer. From there he could gauge her reaction without risking a sudden grab or curious fingers.

“Ava?” He spoke out from on top of a toy box— the top of which was just slightly hard to reach. He stood still, watching as her head swivelled around to look at him, though she didn't move towards him at all, looking at him with a very neutral expression despite the sniffling. Oliver smiled a little, crouching down despite the fact that really he was the shorter one in this situation. It was instinct.

“Hello there…mummy and daddy went to work, didn't they?” He asked. That got a response immediately and she nodded quickly, inhaling some snot from all the crying as she began to speak, on the verge of crying again as if Oliver had just reminded her what she was upset about in the first place.

Most of it was incoherent— but it wasn't babbling, so that meant she was at a normal rate of speech. From what he could make of it, she was mostly repeating ‘mummy’ and ‘daddy’, mentioning a car, using the word ‘gone’, and it was clear that she was telling him exactly what he asked; her mum and dad had gone to work and she got left behind in the rush of things.

Oliver gestured calmly with his hands, showing his palms as he took on a reassuring demeanour.

“Shhh…shhh…it's alright. Mummy and daddy are going to come back.” He assured, reminding himself that children that age are more likely to understand positive language rather than if he said that her parents are not gone. “We're just doing nursery at home today, okay? Does that sound fun?”

She shook her head and wiped at her face, already starting to get upset again, looking around as if her mum and dad might just be behind her.

“N…no…” She hiccuped, voice trembling. “Mummy and…d-daddy…nn— need to…take me…”

Oliver's expression softened, his chest feeling tight at the sight. He tilted his head ever so slightly, debating whether or not he could safely be held by this child or not.

“Ava? Ava, look at me. How old are you, do you know that?” He asked, leaning down a bit. Luckily she did look up at him again, peeking through her fingers and wiping at her snotty red nose with her little hands. She sniffled again, eyes watery, but processing Oliver's question and answering in turn.

“F…four…” She murmured, voice still wobbly through her slightly uneven breathing. It was on the older end of the range Oliver had guessed, which was good, but it was still ultimately a risk.

Oh sod it. If I don't do something now she will get even more agitated and upset. Talking won't hold her attention enough.

He smiled down at her.

“Wow… you're such a big girl! And you know your own age too— very clever.” He gave her a moment to process that before continuing with a question, trying to lead gently into things to avoid making her scared of him. “Did they teach you that in nursery, Ava?”

She nodded slowly, looking up at him with rounded eyes, her lips a little purple from all the crying earlier. Thankfully, despite how she was anxiously fidgeting; rocking back and forth or clenching her shirt in a fist every now and then; it wasn't too difficult to draw her attention away from her missing parents.

“I can…I can…count…all way…to ten!” She responded slowly, wiping her watery eyes again and scooting a bit closer to the toy box Oliver was perched on.

“Can you? Oh, I would just love to hear that. Can you count to ten for me?” He requested. The more at ease she was, the less likely she was to squeeze him to death once he was in her hands. Not to mention the more comfortable she would be with him.

Ava nodded and began to count, looking up and to the side as she thought about it, slowly getting through the numbers, although she repeated some due to her frazzled state. Her voice was still shaking as she took in shuddering breaths every so often, but it wasn't as close to hyperventilating as before.

Oliver clapped his hands together, beaming.

“Bravo, bravo..! Hmm… I'm sure you also have lots of toys at nursery. Is that right?” He asked, getting a nod in return. If he could keep the child entertained until her parents got back, then hopefully this incident wouldn't repeat itself. “And you have lots of toys in this box too, don't you?

She nodded again, bright blue eyes staring up at him with much less wariness than before. She even scooted a big closer, wobbling to her feet and gripping onto the lid of the toy box as she stared at Oliver with some curiosity now.

That's good. Not for my ribs, but good for my mission.

As she leaned on the box it tipped towards her slightly and Oliver just managed to keep his balance. He quickly regained his composure, and walked slowly towards the right until he could simply hop off of the toy box and onto the TV stand right beside it. It was a bit lower down, certainly within reach, but he was pleased to see Ava was only watching him instead of grabbing him immediately.

“Can you show me your favourite toys?” He asked, gesturing encouragingly towards the toy box and sitting down on the edge of the stand, letting his legs dangle off of the edge as he watched, expression bright and warm.

Latching onto the distraction immediately without even understanding that Oliver was trying to distract her, Ava pried open the fabric lid and stuck out her tongue in concentration as she tried to pull out any of her toys. After a few attempts she let out an agitated whine, growing irritated. Oliver was about to intervene when she accidentally knocked the entire box over as she pulled her arms back out.

She stumbled back and fell onto her bum as the box fell, but she was completely unharmed. She momentarily examined her arms with an upset expression, anticipating injury despite their being none. Quickly, Oliver interjected.

“Good thinking! It will be much easier to get them out like this. Clever girl.” He praised, seeing how her eyes locked onto him and a small smile cracked across her expression, arms forgotten about as she quickly focused back on the toys again, getting on her hands and knees, just grabbing whatever was closest and beaming as she showed it off to him.

He chuckled slightly, leaning forward onto his hands as he engaged with her, getting more of a feel and understanding of her personality. Like most four year olds, she soaked up praise and attention like a sponge— but she seemed to roll with things much more smoothly than others her age might have. She was resilient, and self assured; even if Oliver needed to guide her there every now and then.

“Is that your favourite?” He asked, tone full of interest and wonder, as if he was just as excited about the random plastic tractor as she was. She nodded excitedly.

“And— and it's got…it's got um… a farmer. Called…Emma…” She announced happily, quickly dropping the toy onto the carpet as she searched for the farmer. During her search though she got distracted by the other things in there, showing them off only halfway as she piled the various toys around her.

She was playing with and fidgeting with them all individually, monologuing about what she was doing in what was mostly just incoherent babble due to her being unable to pronounce most of the words. That didn't stop her though, and Oliver happily listened, paying attention and engaging every now and then to assure her that all eyes were on her at that moment.

This worked for about twenty minutes until she started getting bored playing all by herself. She looked at Oliver, her red cheeks and purple lips having returned to normal by now since she was no longer crying, the snot having dried to her face. She waddled over to him and Oliver sat up straight, but didn't jolt or make any sudden movements.

She smiled as she snatched him off of the edge of the TV stand, Oliver just barely holding in a yelp as he had seen the hand coming at the last second. He winced, arms held awkwardly to his sides by her grubby fingers and causing his elbows to dig into his ribs a little. Her grip was tight enough to bruise and almost pushed all the breath out of him, but it was just loose enough for him to breathe.

“Ava— can you try to be gentle, please?” He asked, voice coming out a bit strained despite himself. He pulled his grimace into a calm smile, maintaining the same warm reassuring demeanour despite the aching pain in his body.

She paused for a moment, blinking down at him owlishly, not understanding what he meant. Her hesitation didn't last long though as she settled back down by the toys, laying down on her stomach and holding Oliver in front of her innocent eyes, her other hand coming closer to feel his hair curiously, mesmerised.

Oliver held still— squirming would either cause her grip to tighten, which could very easily break his bones, or it might make her afraid of him. He masked a groan of pain by clearing his throat, still smiling as her tiny but surprisingly strong fingers pushed his head to the side slightly.

“You're…as small as Emma..!” She declared excitedly, and Oliver winced when that grip tightened a bit more in turn. Any more and it could quickly become dangerous for him. He recalled the farmer she mentioned before and the size comparison— he wasn't unused to being compared to a doll.

“Oh yes, you're absolutely right! Good girl. I am just the right size for her tractor too, aren't I? Can you put me in the tractor, Ava?” He asked, trying to calmly redirect her and free himself in the process as soon as possible, as it was now difficult to inhale. His ribs creaked in protest, but he fought off the instinct to kick at all.

Perking up at the suggestion she immediately nodded, sitting up on her forearms as she looked for the tractor and finding it quickly. Once she had she shuffled around to face it, resting her cheek on the ground and smiling as she lowered Oliver into the seat of the plastic tractor.

Oliver released some of the tension that had been growing in his shoulders, inhaling some much needed air as he sat back on the slightly too large plastic seat. Just as he was in the middle of recovering though his hands instinctively clutched the fake pink wheel in front of him as the tractor; and he along with it; was suddenly lifted into the air.

It was very disorienting to fly through the air like he was as Ava delightedly made chugging sounds and waved the tractor around to pretend it was driving, but it was preferred to the death grip she had held him in before. After a couple of minutes of holding on for dear life and just trying to pretend he was on the back of his bird steed instead, the tractor finally stopped moving around as he was instead held up close to her eyes.

Oliver was a bit shaky from the sequence of events so far, but he still managed to smile up at the giant toddler.

I'm not sure how many hours I'll be able to handle this. I need to try to explain how fragile I am to her…

Before he could even attempt that though, Ava was already speaking.

“I'll be the… the mummy and you can be the baby..!” She announced, and it was not so much a question as it was a role that, to her, Oliver was already accepting. That became clear when she began to babble about the setting and other stuff, but Oliver was more focused on the hand approaching him.

“Ava, listen to me.” He spoke with a slightly firmer tone than before, due to how dangerous this could get without intervention. She recognized that, her smile dropping and hand falling back immediately, eyes completely focused on him. He suspected he had very little time before she would lose that focus and grab him again anyway, but he sighed in relief that she had stopped.

Looking up at her, Oliver could tell plainly that his seriousness was putting her on edge. So, he shifted his time to be more light-hearted again as he smiled.

“I have a game for us to play. But you have to listen really closely to the rules, okay? Are you going to be a good girl and listen?” He asked.

His return to being more playful made her relax again, and she nodded eagerly at the sound of a game idea. Oliver was relieved. Some children were determined to get their own way, and would simply ignore the idea of another game for the sake of playing what they wanted to.

“I'm a good girl…a-already..!” She pointed out, a bit tongue-tied as most toddlers were. Oliver let out a small chuckle. It was easy to forget how dangerous young children could be when staring up into their innocent gazes.

“You're absolutely right. But, I still want you to listen, okay?” He emphasised, wanting to keep her on track. He cleared his throat. “Do you know about…Goldilocks and the three bears?”

She perked up and nodded, putting the tractor down in favour of leaning on her forearms and looking at Oliver that way. Taking advantage of the solid ground, he climbed out of the driver's seat and stood on legs that felt a bit like jelly from all the jostling that had been done to him earlier. She thankfully did not seem to have a problem with it, instead only taking the opportunity to reach ahead and give Oliver a small poke.

He stumbled ever so slightly, but got his balance back immediately and showed no reaction to the poke to avoid sparking any interest in that interaction. Not until he was sure she understood she needed to be gentle, and he could already tell she was getting distracted.

“In this game, you get to be Goldilocks!” He announced, adding a bit of theatrical flare to his words to make the idea sound as exciting as possible. It seemed to work as he saw her shift with excitement, eyes gleaming with joy. “Do you want to guess what I'll be?”

Ava ummed and ahhed about it for a few moments before looking down at him with a bright expression.

“Bear!” She guessed. That was exactly the answer Oliver was expecting and it made sense for a child of her age to guess that.

“That's a great guess! You were close too. Both things start with a ‘buh’ sound after all.” He praised, emphasising the phonics with enthusiasm. “I'm going to be…a bed.”

The toddler giggled, rolling on the floor restlessly as she took in Oliver's words. She looked at him, now laying on her back and seeing him upside down, thoroughly entertained by the sight and thought. As Oliver wanted, she was hooked.

“You— can't be a…a bed..! Beds are for sleeping..!” She pointed out, finding the absurdity extremely amusing, and intrigued by Oliver's game. He was quick to play into her playful manner, taking on a more humorous tone.

“Ah, you're right! Beds are for sleeping…it would be a bit silly for you to sleep on me, wouldn't it?” He pointed out, eliciting a squeal of laughter. Ava rolled back onto her front, gaze still focused on him, and hands thankfully clutching the front of her shirt instead of him. Oliver smiled, and continued.

“No, of course not… But, just like Goldilocks found a bed that was just right, I want you to do the same thing. And when I tell you it's just right, you win! If you win 10 whole times, you get a prize. Does that sound fun?”

Really it was a very convoluted way of explaining things, but Ava seemed to engage best with praise and play, so Oliver was trying to incorporate that as much as possible to keep her happy.

Ava nodded again, so Oliver explained the rules more clearly.

“First, you're going to pick me up. If you hold me too tight I'll say ‘too hard’. If you hold me not tight enough I'll say ‘too soft’. But if you hold me gently, I will say ‘just right’. When I say ‘just right', put me back down and we'll play again. Ready?”

Without waiting for him to say go, she was already reaching forwards and picking him up, her fingers quickly squeezing onto him in the same painful grip as before. Oliver expected that for a start, and strained to speak, hopeful that this method would work.

“Too hard…” He tried to keep a light tone despite the fact that all of the air was being pushed from his lungs by those deceptively small fingers. Realising that winning wasn't as easy as she first thought, Ava concentrated; tongue sticking out again as she opened her fingers a bit. The grip was much too loose, and Oliver dropped a little because of it, having to cling onto her fingers to keep from falling.

“Too soft..!” He spoke through his big inhale of needed air, relieved at the lack of broken bones despite knowing that this would involve a few rounds of trial and error before she would consistently know the right level of pressure. The fingers closed in again, just on the edge of being too tight. But, as it was close enough, and to avoid making her lose interest too quickly, he counted it.

“Just right! Very good job, Ava. That's 1 win!” He praised. “Aren't you clever?”

The process repeated again and again, and to keep Ava's engagement with the game Oliver offered up rewards in between rounds— like a finger five (which she liked a lot) and invisible stickers. By the seventh round she had learned that ‘just right’ was closer to ‘too soft’ than ‘too hard’, and so Oliver wasn't worrying about having his ribs broken each round anymore.

They reached round 10 very quickly, and she got ‘just right’ immediately, much to her delight and pride.

“That was incredible, Ava! I'm impressed that you got the hang of that so quickly.” He smiled genuinely. Although the bruises from earlier were bad and would take a while to heal, at least he could rest assured that he had a method to help prevent further bruising. “Your prize is… I'll play any game you want.”

Already he could feel the fingers begin to tighten again as her focus turned away from her grip and to thinking of a new game.

“But!” Oliver quickly interjected, stopping her in her tracks. “I'm still going to tell you if it's just right or not when you hold me, okay? Just to test if you're paying attention.”

It was all continuing to go relatively well, and Oliver was perfectly content playing along with the child's imaginative play provided his bones stayed intact. Whenever Oliver felt her grip getting too tight or too loose he made sure to correct her and heaped her with lots of praise once she got it right.

Ava had completely forgotten about her parents being gone, just enjoying playing games with Oliver.

Faintly, he heard the sound of a car pulling up beside the house, and although he wasn't sure if it was one of her parents or not, it was soon confirmed by the sound of the front door unlocking. Ava also paused when she heard the door, sitting up a bit and turning around, her fingers held in her mouth as she stared.

A woman burst into the living room, letting the door swing open and not bothering to close it as she spotted Ava on the floor. As soon as the toddler saw her mother, her grip on Oliver completely released as she began crying again, immediately returning to the same distress as before now that she remembered what had happened. Her little hands instinctively reached towards the woman, making grabbing motions.

Oliver landed on the carpet with a small ‘oof’, before backpedalling into the shadows under the TV stand, watching as the mother rushed over and scooped up the crying toddler, apologising profusely and smothering her in affection to try to get her to calm down.

He smiled slightly at the sight, relieved that Ava was now in her caretakers hands again. His body was equally relieved, and he winced as a pang of pain shot out from the various bruises he had acquired whilst entertaining the curious toddler.

He didn't stick around for too long after, once he was sure that Ava was going to be well taken care of. He managed to find the entrance he had come out from in the first place, retrieving his glasses and placing them on his face. His finger pushed at the bridge to put it in the right place again as he slung his pack over his shoulder and walked outside to whistle for Gale.

I'll have to cut this trip short…but the bruises were well worth it.

[radish-club]

So now that I have finished, I am going to break down my prior knowledge point by point and see where I was right or wrong about my prior knowledge of Worm because being thorough is fun.

Side note: you may be thinking since I've been tagging my liveread posts as "wren wreads worm" that my name is Wren. Nope. I just liked the triple W plus the misspelling. Wren is the name of the robot girl in my profile pic. It was also the pseudonym I used back when I was active(ish) on the Parahumans discord (for the Pact and Pale chats).

Wren Wreads Worm: Where I Was Wright and Wrong about Worm

Big picture: there's alien entities called incubators shards who implant themselves in people and give them powers.

So so the alien entities aren't called Shards like I thought, they are called Entities and the Shards are just their fragments.

I was under the impression that there was, like, a bunch of these aliens that were doing their experiments on earth and each one was implanting themselves into humans. But nope, only really 3 of them important to this story, only 2 came to earth, and only 1 survived initial contact with the planet.

I am not sure how accurate the comparison to the Incubators from PMMM ended up being, but similar enough I guess.

Powers are triggered by traumatic events and are usually themed to said events. There is also an organization called Cauldron who tries to give powers in a controlled manner. Powered beings are called parahumans.

All correct here.

The main character is Taylor. She has the power to control bugs. She was triggered by being bullied in high school. She was shoved into a locker full of used tampons and left there. I don't recall if that was the specific trigger event or just one instance of bullying.

It was the specific trigger.

She wants to be a hero and thinks of herself as a good, well intentioned person but is so so stupid. She goes out to fight crime, and meets up with teenage villains (called the Undersiders??). Against advice of established hero(es) she goes "undercover" with teen villains. In doing so she gets deeper and deeper in. Does like bank robberies or some shit that go badly. People die. And so on.

All true. Though I didn't realize eventually she just fully embraces the villain thing and get outed as "Undercover" during the course of that. I figured kept up her plan to rat them out up until she defected and then started snitching.

At some point she officially joins heroes and there is a time skip but I don't know if these two things happen together.

Kind of?? Not really but close enough. The time skip wasn't all in one piece like I thought either. Just a few months at a time per chapter until it gets the last year, year and a half out the way in one go.

Halfwayish through the book there is a big fight with a creature called Leviathan in which several characters dies (and apparently the author rolled dice to see who would die, so it was possible even Taylor could have died in that fight).

So in my head, the Leviathan fight played a similar roll as what the Behemoth fight ends up playing. A big transitional fight between Taylor as Skitter and Taylor as Weaver.

The way I was figuring it, I think, was that all the Skitter crime boss stuff happened and gradually escalated in an intact Brockton Bay, but then the Leviathan wrecks shit and the experience lead Taylor to defected or something, I am not sure.

But no, it was towards the beginning, if anything. It is the arc that is the transition from Act 1 to Act 2 if you were to break Worm into 3 acts.

At some point in the story Taylor kills several people. These include an established hero (Alexandria?) by suffocating her with bugs and also a baby but for the baby she uses a gun.

All true. I was not aware of her first proper kill in Coil, I'll note.

It was Alexandria that she kills which, as I guess, was a big important event that happened that gets referenced throughout the rest of the book.

The baby killing, however, was NOT as big of a deal as I thought it was going to be. By a good margin too. Like I was imagining there was going to be this build-up over the course of several Arcs about some baby who was going to set off a chain reaction or be dangerous in itself in an immediate sense.

There was going to be debates amongst characters about what do do about it until Taylor finally gets impatient, tracks down said baby, and assassinates it. And then it would be this big awful thing she had done that would be held against her and make her reviled by many.

But no. There is build up in the sense that it is implied that the baby, Aster, COULD be dangerous. And it is implied that she might end up in one of Gray Boy's time wells.

But the actually shooting just kind of happens, with implied motivations, as opposed to explicit ones. And the chapters that follow are for Golem, Aster's brother, who is broken up about it at first. But after that, I am not sure if she is ever mentioned again.

I guess because goes straight into the Jack fight and then Scion attacking immediately after. And not that many people saw it happen. And Taylor is at the point where she is kind of past feeling emotion about such things.

But going on memes and jokes about Taylor's baby killing, I just thought it was going to be a much bigger deal than it was.

There is a parahuman with gold skin who was one of the OG parahumans back in the 80s.

I was both right and wrong here. DWMP is named Scion and he was a cape from the 80s, but he was not a parahuman.

I discussed this in another post, so I won't go as in depth here. Briefly back when I didn't realize there was just one single entity (for all intense and purposes) and shards of said entity but I thought the entities and shards were one in the same and were many in number, I thought Scion was just a regular human who got an Important Shard and also most of his memories wiped.

I don't remember his name but I do remember he is very Dead Wife Man Pain, so let's call him DWMP.

The DWMP aspects came from half remember stories about Worm my wife told me. She used that expression to describe Scion and I got memories jumbled and thought there was some car wreck backstory or something.

DWMP has a fateful conversation with a villain named Jack Slash. Slash convinces him to destroy the world. Maybe also other realities too??

He does have that conversation with Jack Slash and he does begin destroying the world because of it. I didn't know the Jack Slash connection would be broadcasted within the story itself, long before via Dinah's precognition. I thought that was neat and felt special and in on the secret (this is why I don't mind spoilers for stuff).

And yeah, he does attempt to destroy multiple earths in multiple realities, but that isn't really part of the conversation.

(or maybe the same conversation is happening on multiple realities with multiple Slashes and DWMPs??)

The same conversation wasn't happening in multiple realities. And there is only 1 Scion for all the different realities. So no idea where that part came from.

There's apocalyptic event and Taylor gets someone (Amy/Panacea, I think) to enhance/alter her power so she can jump between realities. She then begins to gather parahumans from differently realities into a team to come together and take out DWMP with the power of teamwork and a giant laser.

Correct about apocalypse and that it was Amy.

But see, I thought the power enhancement was the reality hoping itself. I didn't realize that she got the power to literally control people.

So here I was thinking the climax was going to be her jumping through realities talking to and convincing alternate earth capes to join her cause and then they were all gonna rally together and fight Scion.

What ACTUALLY happened was so so so much better. She becomes a monster and begins controlling people, namely other parahumans. She controls a portal making parahuman to help extend her range and forcible recruit literally 1000s of people to fight and die against Scion.

This represents culmination of her continually increasing unethical actions for the "great good" and the final betrayal of her previously held morals.

Basically the "power of friendship" is funny in retrospect since I meant it somewhat sincerely.

Spot on about the giant laser. There was a giant laser. It is was killed Scion in the end.

They are not able to save the world they are currently on but a portion of Earth's population are evacuated from their current reality to an Earth with no humans where Ward takes place. One of these two earths is called Earth Bet.

Earth Bet is the main earth for our purposes. It wasn't as thoroughly destroyed as I assumed. Like folks are still rebuilding and live there. I am not sure how much of the population is spread amongst the various worlds.

From what I understand the afformentioned humanless world (Gimel) is where Ward takes place mostly or completely but I can only imagine there is some crossing over.

No idea what happens in-between. If folks continue to live on Bet, and so on.

Taylor's fate is left ambiguous. She maybe dies, she maybe fucks off to another reality. Maybe she become meguca idk.

And this part annoys me. It's is not ambiguous in the way I thought.

Like at first its pretty unambiguous. Contessa shoots and kills Taylor, ending her narration. It's great, I like that.

But then you have that epilogue about her fucking off to the other reality. It's somewhat implied to be fake given Tattletale's dialogue and the fact that her (presumably) dead dad is there. But the phrase "Gold Morning" is used. And the whole thing doesn't feel "dreamlike."

I get that the author SAYS it's supposed to be just a dream that happens while she's dying (I think that's true, correct me if I am wrong). And while I like to think that is the case myself, what he wrote isn't very good at getting that across.

And it's not even that good of a chapter (Tattletale parts are fine) to justify it being there, even as a dream. I feel if the last we see of Taylor is her getting shot, that would have been great. The final epilogue stuff felt forced and I didn't like it.

Other Notes:

-Taylor goes by 3 names: Skitter, Weaver, and Khepri

Partially true. She briefly goes by the temporary name of Bug prior to Gallant naming her Skitter after the bank robbery. Also I did not realize how little the Khepri name gets used in book.

-There a suite of powers called the Alexandrian Package bc they are the ones the parahuman Alexandria has. I think they are flight, semi-invulnerability, and strength (or maybe one of those is energy blasts)

True but this term only gets mentioned once maybe twice in the Worm. Maybe it comes up more in Ward or Weaverdice or something.

-there is a character named Bitch whose power is turning dogs into monster dogs. Media calls her Hellhound to be less controversial and she hates that

True

-There are sisters named Victoria (Glory Girl) and Amy (Panacea) the former of who is the protagonist of Ward. Amy turns Victoria into a Cronenberg at some point. Their relationship and respective characterizations across both books is a point of great controversy among fans. To put it lightly.

True. Though I did think Victoria would be put back together again within the text of Worm.

There was a scene and her being presented to Amy (I am guessing) to be fixed while Taylor is being lead through her banishment portal, which was kind of out of place to be honest. Like, I know Taylor saw Cronenberg Victoria via the clairvoyant when searching for heroes but did she collect her? If so, why? And if not did someone choose that moment, immediately after the fighting finished to take care of this. It was an awkward moment.

-There is a character named Lab Rat who died(?) but he, in the form of one of his clones, comes back in Ward as a guy named Chris.

As far as Worm goes, the part about Lab Rat dying is true. And if I remember correctly, the thing he threw over the side of the oil rig was his clone. And I haven't read Ward but I am pretty sure said clone became the character Chris.

-Browbeat's fate was ambiguous, so him secretly being this or that character in Ward became a meme. Because the author hates fun memes, he went back and changed Worm so BB unambiguously died.

Not much more to say here. The death was changed to be unambiguous.

Numbers Man is hung

Described as wearing just a shirt and glasses. Surely, what the author meant was that he was wearing no pants because of his monster dong.

I know Brian and Alec die but not exactly how or when.

Both true, though the story really take it's time before confirming Brian's death. Not a criticism, just wasn't expected.

I think Danny dies too but I'm not sure.

It's never confirmed but heavily implied.

I'm pretty sure Lisa and Rachel make it to Ward but I'm not sure about Aisha. I don't think she dies though.

They all make it.

I know there is going to be a jailbreak at the Birdcage at some point but I don't know the particulars.

Kind of true?? But not in the way I thought. I thought the inmates mount a jailbreak and that is how Marquis, Lung, Amy, etc get out. But no, pretty much all the named inmates are let out to help fight Scion. Taylor breaks the remaining inmates out during her run as Khepri, if you want to call that a jailbreak.

Taylor loses an arm at some point

Twice actually. Once at the oil rig (along with her lower half) but gets it regrown. Then again when it is crushed by Sveta and then removed by Lung (at her request). That gets healed over but never replaced.

It may be a few weeks before I start, but I'm probably gonna finally read Worm here soon. May even do a liveread if I feel like it.

I already know several of the major plot points BUT I I'm probably wrong in many places (as I was with Pact).

So before I start, I wanted to write a synopsis of what I think I know about Worm. This way I can refer back to this post and see how much I got wrong, what major things I was missing, etc.

What Worm is About (by someone who hasn't read Worm)

Big picture: there's alien entities called incubators shards who implant themselves in people and give them powers. Powers are triggered by traumatic events and are usually themed to said events. There is also an organization called Cauldron who tries to give powers in a controlled manner. Powered beings are called parahumans.

The main character is Taylor. She has the power to control bugs. She was triggerd by being bullied in high school. She was shoved into a locker full of used tampons and left there. I don't recall if that was the specific trigger event or just one instance of bullying.

She wants to be a hero and thinks of herself as a good, well intentioned person but is so so stupid. She goes out to fight crime, and meets up with teenage villains (called the Undersiders??). Against advice of established hero(es) she goes "undercover" with teen villains.

In doing so she gets deeper and deeper in. Does like bank robberies or some shit that go badly. People die. And so on.

At some point she officially joins heroes and there is a time skip but I don't know if these two things happen together.

Halfwayish through the book there is a big fight with a creature called Levithan in which several characters dies (and apparently the author rolled dice to see who would die, so it was possible even Taylor could have died in that fight).

At some point in the story Taylor kills several people. These include an established hero (Alexandria?) by suffocating her with bugs and also a baby but for the baby she uses a gun.

There is a parahuman with gold skin who was one of the OG parahumans back in the 80s. I don't remember his name but I do remember he is very Dead Wife Man Pain, so let's call him DWMP. DWMP has a fateful conversation with a villain named Jack Slash. Slash convinces him to destroy the world. Maybe alos other realities too?? (or maybe the same conversation is happening on multiple realities with multiple Slashes and DWMPs??)

There's apocalyptic event and Taylor gets someone (Amy/Panacea, I think) to enhance/alter her power so she can jump between realities. She then begins to gather parahumans from differently realities into a team to come together and take out DWMP with the power of teamwork and a giant laser.

They are not able to save the world they are currently on but a portion of Earth's population are evacuated from their current reality to an Earth with no humans where Ward takes place. One of these two earths is called Earth Bet.

Taylor's fate is left ambiguous. She maybe dies, she maybe fucks off to another reality. Maybe she become meguca idk.

Other Notes:

Taylor goes by 3 names: Skitter, Weaver, and Khepri

There a suite of powers called the Alexandrian Package bc they are the ones the parahuman Alexandria has. I think they are flight, semi-invulnerability, and strength (or maybe one of those is energy blasts)

there is a character named Bitch whose power is turning dogs into monster dogs. Media calls her Hellhound to be less controversial and she hates that.

There are sisters named Victoria (Glory Girl) and Amy (Panacea) the former of who is the protagonist of Ward. Amy turns Victoria into a Cronenberg at some point. Their relationship and respective characterizations across both books is a point of great controversy among fans. To put it lightly.

There is a character named Lab Rat who died(?) but he, in the form of one of his clones, comes back in Ward as a guy named Chris.

Browbeat's fate was ambiguous, so him secretly being this or that character in Ward became a meme. Because the author hates fun memes, he went back and changed Worm so BB unambiguously died.

Numbers Man is hung

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Anyway here is my aimless, ‘analysis’ on Color and why he lives, why he may seem focused on Killer, but also why that’s just his character to be outwardly focused on others and rarely allowing any bits of his internal self to slip through, likely because he just doesn’t genuinely think of himself outside of anything involving the six human souls and their needs, and doesn’t really expect others to be much interested in him either. He views himself as easily forgettable and replaceable, even as it’s the things he fears and dreads most.

I’m typing as I think so I’ll probably clean it up later if yall don’t understand.

But he also fears failure. Failing to save people, failing to protect them. Saving Killer is something he’d do for anyone, but it also provides a sense of closure for him.

And stuff on my end copy pasted from Discord,

“Also Random kinda unrelated thought but like. maybe like killer, color doesn’t really know what he’s doing with his life either.

I wonder if he expected to die when he absorbed the souls, and then he never expected to get or be free. I wonder how listless he was before meeting killer. was he only living for others.

People say colors character is only about killer but that’s only because 1. Some refuse to look into his AU. And 2. Color didn’t exactly have much of anyone else??

For all intents and purposes his home isn’t his home. He knows them but they don’t know him and he has no reason to live in canon actual animated othertale (where he doesn’t know killer or the epic sanses) besides once again ensuring that they’re all safe from this new threat when we meet him.

(Edited:) It’s even implied he’s only still alive after his last escape attempt, however long ago (since it’s implied that Color has been with Gaster in the Void for like 17-20 years at least), because of Gaster. Either he was trying to kill himself, or he was willing to risk dying.

but once that was gone, what was he going to do. they still don’t know him, anything about him, and he doesn’t know them. They’re so different from how he remembers.

He has no one. They’re alive but they’re not. He’s risked everything for them and he was happy to die doing do so but he didn’t. What’s he supposed to do with himself now. There’s no place for him in the world, and the world doesn’t even seem to want or need him anymore.”

It’s worth noting that Othertale only exists as it does, instead of being normal Undertale, precisely because Sans/Color was kicked out, patched over, forgotten, erased, replaced by Undyne and then it all moved on without him.

So even in my hc that Color leaves Othertale, takes Core Frisk’s offer to join the Omega Timeline, and became Delta’s roommate; he was still at his lowest point, and didn’t even reach anything resembling a high point until meeting Killer.

He can see Killer, but no one else seems to. He wants to help, and he wants to understand. No one else is gonna pursue this, help Killer—those who have tried have failed. He reasons for helping killer are born from moral principles, past experiences, the belief that no one else would (for valid reasons), and even those who don’t even think Killer needs, wants to be, or deserves to be saved.

Similar to Vi from Arcane, who was thrown into prison for her developmental teenage years, coming out not realizing everything has changed, that her sister has changed, and unwilling to accept that powder has grown up and has a new name.

But unlike Vi, who attempts to make everything go back to the way it was, color just..avoids it. Leaves, away from it, goes looking for something new.

His need for something new comes from having spent years in what amounts to basically solitary confinement, where everything was the same over and over, until eventually even the suicide escape attempts and breakdowns became more of the same.

So while Color makes Killer feel wanted, needed, safe, cared for, loved, validated, protected—Killer makes Color feel seen, heard, remembered, important, needed, fascinating, valued. Seen and valued. They make eachother feel understood.

I think similar to Vi, Color is a caretaker, a protector, of individuals and communities he happens to stray into on his wandering trips—he’s terrified of failure, but also craves acknowledgement for what hes always tried his best to do.

If he’s not looking for something new, not wanting to stay in the same place forever, he’s trying to use his life and freedom to give the six kids keeping him alive a second chance at living—he’s not obligated to anyone, unlike Dream is (being a guardian of positivity), he’s just some ridiculously powerful guy. An afterthought in his own story, because it wasn’t his story, but a major part in Killer’s.

He doesn’t help others only because he wants acknowledgement, but also because it’s just what he thinks is right, but having his efforts acknowledged cements that he’s still real, still existing. That he hasn’t been forgotten. And I just think Killer is particularly skilled at making him feel appreciated, and valued.

He’d do it this for everyone in Killer’s place, who asked him for help. He’d help them to the best of his ability, and he wouldn’t ask for or expect anything.

But Killer gives it to him, knowing he’d never ask for it — because he can see Color, and that he likes being seen, and is maybe even suprised that Killer would see him the way he does. And Killer likes seeing Color—would like to see everything about Color. Not just his souls or his code.

Killer makes Color feel like he isn’t just a step outside the rest of world, or like he isn’t a ghost— or more like, killer stepped outside the world with him and joined him there. Color’s eye doesn’t look through Killer, and Killer’s gaze doesn’t drift right over Color.

This is not accounting for the HC that Color and Delta are roommates, of course, which would change some things—mainly in that Delta would’ve seen Color at all his lowest points and would’ve been the one taking care of Color—and a lot of how Color takes care of Killer may even be somewhat inspired by his relationship with Delta, but again that’s hc and im mainly focusing on the bits we have in canon.

I’ll probably expand on this part in a bit, but I think it’d be the Epic Sanses (and maybe even the Abyss Team) that teach Color to live for himself and what he wants—and he goes on to use that to help Killer.

[edledamianfan]

Ride homes late at night sure is a feeling, especially on a high way going at a fast speed on the way home. Looking at the window and u see the whole city below you. The lights and everything, it's just a feeling, fleeting moment that last with u for a lifetime.

I wonder that's what dick felt when he was Robin on the Batmobile. Every single night on the same roads, highways, going out, going back back after fighting crimes.

But there is something missing here.

Having music playing would've been nicer.

It would distract him from his thoughts.

Bats doesn't really do music ... but it doesn't hurt to ask. Well he did say no at first but after dick mentioning his thoughts about his parents and stuff. He reconsidered and ends up approving it.

Spooky decides picks the music until he realised he know nothing about today's music. So it look him a while until he found a playlist he seemed to find nice.

So the next time they're in the Batmobile, when the coast is clear and the night is saved and all they gotta do now is head home. Bats plugs in the USB for the songs and plays them.

Dick knows some of these songs. It's pretty popular in his time and there are some songs that he's not familiar with. But it gets him away from his thoughts so it's somewhat worked. He'll have to listen to it as this now their daily playlist.

The USB then stays there for a while even when dick is no longer here with Bruce, out doing his own thing. He didn't want to remove it.

And then a new Robin comes along. Jason asking what is that USB and Bats offers him if he wants to hear the playlist. He said yeah ofc.

1 min in he's thought to himself that Bats listens to popular songs, although these are kind of old. I guess he's somewhat the same like everyone.

And then Jason died.

USB was not touched again for a while until tim came along. Batman was pretty much on edge during this time, although curious about the USB Tim decides not to pry on it - directly to the man. Instead he sneak in back to the Batmobile during bed time just to see what's the USB is about. And then caught by Bruce himself.

Well he was mad at first but after realizing he was just curious what is in the plugged USB. Bruce decides to just show it for himself what it is about. Tim was definitely not expecting it to be a playlist. Bruce then asks if he wants to play this playlist. Tim just rolls with it.

Then Stephanie came along. She was pretty much straightforward asking what was in the USB. But Bruce was real defensive about it for some reason so Stephanie just shrinked back. He then realized his mistake and offers if she wants to hear the playlist. She happily accepts.

This time Bruce died.

Dick is now stuck with a kid he is not sure on how to handle. Stuck back in Gotham. Stuck in the costume he was trying to get away from.

He wasn't sure on how to do anything but he needs to do so anyways because he's the only one who can do it. This that happens and so the new dynamic duo was formed.

They then got in the Batmobile. And there Grayson is greeted again by that familiar USB. He thought he forgot, Bruce had changed Batmobiles a couple of time and with all that is happening he didn't think that he would remember to bring the inessential USB playlist into the new ride everytime.

He felt his warm all the same again.

Maybe a bit emotional.

But it maybe the inessential USB playlist gave him all the motivation and courage he needed at that moment.

He then stepped on the gas, drive out of the cave.

Into the night.

End note:

This was my playlist I was thinking about. U can check it out if u want! These are most of the songs I remembered that used to be on the car USB. Uhhh this ended up being longer than I thought I was gonna do like a short silly idea but hi if u reached the end 😅

[seancekitsch]

The Sword and the Quill: Chapter Five

Pairing: Gwayne Hightower x Reader

In the weeks leading up to little Daeron's departure to Oldtown, Queen Alicent finds herself trying to entertain the unmarried ladies of court. As one of her ladies in waiting, you agree to an anonymous penpal in one of the men at court, and end up spilling your heart to him. He is your perfect match, your equal. The only issue? The Queen's brother Gwayne Hightower will not stop teasing you as you try to uncover who responds to your letters.

My nearly found Unfamiliar,

I feel I should be offended by this hasty scrawl of a message, yet I am just happy to hold your parchment once more. If your letter shall be brief, mine will be too. Even after we meet, I think I might like to keep these letters going. They are invigorating in ways I never expected. I am confident I will find you, as even if my guesses are incorrect I plan on not giving up until I find you and dance an almain with you. 

You are devious and wicked in the ways that you tease me! But I am smart, I will find you. I will look for rubies and I will speak our word and then… It is up to you. I trust that even finding you will make me the happiest man in the seven kingdoms, and I will put the future in your hands. 

Soon Yours,

Your Unfamiliar

Excitement surges through you as you hold the letter to you, girlish and giddy. Each time you read the note it feels as if fate is knocking at your chamber doors instead of the serving girls or Alicent calling upon you. He feels so close, so near. You never took yourself for such a sentimental woman, but this letter gets placed with all the others, in a beautifully embossed portfolio for parchment. You agree with his letter, that you want to keep this practice going even after you find one another. It will be a lovely day when you can fill this portfolio, or years down the line you can read them from the beginning. You can imagine laughing with him about your eagerness to meet and the way the two of you were bold and promiscuous. You picture yourself, wrinkled smile in the candlelight as you point out how you were thinking during these letters, his auburn hair turning grey and -

No! Not auburn. You shudder as you banish the thought from your head. Thats more than enough fantasy for today. 

You wind the leather strap around the button fastening closed the portfolio and set it aside, knowing there is much to plan. 

You fuss in front of the looking glass, certain the hour was growing short and you would be sent for soon for the feast. Your hair had been up, to the side, plaited, and pinned. You’ve decided to settle on pulling it off of your face, letting the rest of it cascade down with little adornment besides a comb dazzled with rubies. That was the pin in all of this. Dress color did not matter, though you wore a deep wine red dress that made your body look divine, as long as rubies accompanied you. Rubies were how your Unfamiliar would know you, rubies were the color of passion. If blue for loyalty was to be making trend in the court, you shall buck the system with your own symbolic color.

This is the best it will get, you think, not unconvinced of your looks but moreso knowing that fiddling with it any further will make ruin of it.

“I should have expected you would be my seat mate,” Gwayne quips, wine goblet already in hand and seated at the long table upon the newly dubbed “Green Council” side. You suppose court may only get uglier from here, and Alicent’s letter writing plan was a beacon in the dark much like the light of the high tower itself.

“We are the queen’s favorite people,” you reply, smoothing and adjusting the skirts of your dress to sit comfortably.

“Although we may be each other’s least favorite,” he jokes, and you raise your own wine goblet to clink your rim against his.

“I will agree to that.”

“You look lovely.”

“I- Thank you, Ser Gwayne.”

He drinks from his goblet and turns his attention back to the festivities, the great hall already buzzing with people talking and enjoying their food as the royal family and their parties all enter. Sure enough, you see more couples now than you had at the last feast, a testament to letter writings success. The troupe in the corner plays quietly, calm music that does not dare drown out the droning of conversation.

“Are you going to miss him?” Gwayne speaks up.

“Who?”

“Daeron.”

“Oh my littlest dragon!” you exclaim, “Yes I suppose I’ll miss him quite terribly.”

You lean over to him slightly.

“Do not tell the other little princelings or princess, but my wish was to spoil Daeron rotten.”

Gwayne chuckles at that. The eldest of the royal children have their own table, but Daeron is still at Alicent’s side. The elder three, as you can already see, are causing a ruckus. With Aegon ranting about…. something, Helaena holding up… another something you don’t wish to identify, and Aemond glaring up at the adult’s table.

“Your secret is safe with me,” He says, adding, “But if you wish to send him letters with his mother’s I will read them all the same.”

“You are being suspiciously kind to me, Ser Gwayne.”

The knight only shrugs.

“Tis a feast that followed a tourney. I am in good spirits.”

“Perhaps if you continue being so kind, I will greet you with less venom the next time you arrive.”

“Oh come now, My Lady, venom is our thing. Do not go soft on me.”

You laugh, genuinely, and from the corner of your eye you can see Alicent down the other side of the table looking at you as if you’ve lost your mind.

The rest of dinner is hardly touched, instead conversation and wine flow more freely, though jabs are still to be had.

“Would you care to dance?” Gwayne asks as he pushes his chair away from the large table. 

Oddly, you do not find yourself balking at the idea. Gwayne has been kind, enjoyable even tonight so far. What is one dance? I could not hurt as a way to get yourself onto the dance floor. You do have an Almain tonight you do not want to miss. 

“I do like dancing,” you admit as you hold out your hand for him. Gwayne takes your hand gently and guides you to stand. The song playing is slow, a little intimate for this point in the night, but you trust the royal musicians, they understand the mood of the room. Gwayne spins you the moment your feet touch the dance floor, a flourishing display of your skirts to show you off to the entire room before he brings you into his hold. One warm hand finds its way to your bodice, and the other stays clasped to yours. He moves with grace, each step carefully rehearsed yet feeling earnest and natural. 

“How are you enjoying the evening?” he asks, smiling easily as his eyes find yours.

“It’s lovely! A blessing on this new little princeling, and a fun night for people of little consequence such as ourselves,” you exclaim, your free hand finding his shoulder, fingertips brushing the velvet of his tunic. It’s fitting, you think, for Gwayne to wear rich velvets despite being a knight. He is a son of maybe the richest house in all the kingdoms besides the crown itself, and much more educated and trained than your average knight even for a noble house. It suits him as a fabric, rich and bold. But most importantly, it is soft and gentle under your hands.

“I must agree with you, I find myself having more fun than I’ve had in ages,” Gwyane says, and punctuates it with another twirl around. He’s bringing you towards the center of the dance floor, where already most of the court have congregated. Skirts flutter and men’s chains of silver and gold glitter in the light. 

The dance is quick, a swirling and complicated thing, and Gwayne guides you through it near perfectly. 

And then the dance ends with the song, and Gwayne’s hold on you loosens but does not completely leave you. Something odd hangs in the air, like a word unspoken or a shift of the weather. You find yourself not wanting to stray far from Gwayne Hightower.

“Another dance?” you ask.

“And here I thought you could not stand me.”

“I can overlook that because you are better at dancing than I expected.”

“As you wish, My Lady.”

And with that he pulls you closer in his grasp again, and as the next song begins he pulls you along the floor. 

“How are your letters going? I would have thought you would have had your lady here and courting by now,” you bring up the letters, the only topic thats ever burning on your mind, yet Gwayne feels like the one person it is not a secret to discuss with. 

“It troubles me!” he admits, a laugh coming freely as he speaks, “I wish to know her! I wish to marry her. She is so incredible, so smart and full of humor. I know that I will be smitten when I see her. If she were to reject me, I would be bereft.”

His words are nothing short of a serious declaration of his intentions. You must admit, it’s moving to see Gwayne Hightower this passionate. It’s a level of sincerity and passion you did not expect him to have outside of a training yard or tourney. 

“Then I do hope she is just as smitten,” your lips turn upwards, but not in a smirk like it usually is around Gwayne, “For I fear for what would happen if you were in a sour mood.”

Gwayne laughs, a loud and boisterous sound that makes little lines crinkle at the sides of his eyes and make each of his teeth glimmer under the light of the chandeliers. 

“And you?” he asks, something teasing (though toothy, not biting) in his smile, “What are your true feelings on this letter business, now that you know mine?”

“I must admit, your sister’s little scheme with these letters is maddening,” you smile as you say it, “I mean, I’m even wearing every ruby I own because a week ago a promised a man I don’t even know that I would give him some kind of sign!”

Your voice is more exasperated than you intend for it to sound, the wine from dinner easing you. Your hand on Gwayne’s shoulder flexes and then relaxes again, not quite a squeeze, but not nothing. His velvet tunic is soft under your fingertips, lovely and lush. His eyes seem to widen at your admission, and the expression confuses you. It would be odd for him to be surprised at this point, as he knows for weeks this has troubled you. Your hand slips from his shoulder as you step back, your arm making a sweeping motion as you dip backward before coming back to his arms. 

“I- I am surprised you have not found him yet,” he stutters, an unusual thing for Gwayne, usually so sure and even tempered. To hear him stutter is to watch him be knocked in a tilt; concerning and betraying of something wrong beneath the surface. It unnerves you. 

“And why is that, Ser Gwayne?” The way you speak is teasing, playfully rather than full of barbs. He sighs deeply, and looks at you. Really looks at you. Not his teasing glances that irk you, not his hungered gaze upon your legs, not a scowl. Gwayne looks upon you as if it is your first meeting, searching your face for signs of something. Perhaps he is, perhaps this is Gwayne seeing you for more than a shrill shrew at his sister’s side. Maybe this is him seeing you as something other than a game, a skirt to tease and bother at any time. Even more, maybe this means that he would welcome you at Oldtown if you were to visit Daeron. 

“I would think someone as headstrong and intelligent as you would have found your writer by now,” Gwayne explains, a smile returning to his face, “I know you would not give up until you were having clandestine rendezvous in scarce used parts of the Keep.”

You blink. No, certainly you didn’t hear him correctly? The music is much too loud. 

“What was that, you said?”

Gwayne falters as your smile fades.

“That- That you would be having clandestine rendezvous with your writer?”

“You,” the word escapes you, “Unfamiliar.”

Gwayne’s lips tug upward at the corner, a weaker smile this time. 

Your Unfamiliar, your traveled unfamiliar, your dearest unfamiliar, your now found unfamiliar. It cannot be. Gwayne, the one with the pen. Gwayne, who boasts of his exploits with women; Gwayne, your champion who weaved you a crown; Gwayne, who angers you to the point of screaming. No, it could not be him that writes you in promise of travel, a life of adventure. He cannot be the one who writes you so genuinely, so freely and so sensitively. It is a trick, you think, he must be tricking you. Some form of humiliation on your end through this scheme.

Your hands slip from him, and infuriatingly chaste he lets you step away. 

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head as if that will erase the knowledge, “Not you.”

“Why not me?” he asks, and something heavy settles in your chest. 

“You mock me! Have you known the whole time?” you scoff, stepping back even further, “Love and Beauty? Ha!”

Your lips tighten into a quivering line, threatening to betray you further. 

“I only discovered you tonight,” he says.

“I do not believe you,” you tell him, and you turn on your heel. Luckily, there is a corridor at the wall near the edge of the dance floor, and with haste you will be back in your chambers and you may forget all of this. 

“Wait! Must you go?” Gwayne calls, loud enough to hear you. Heads turn, and your face burns even more. You turn back around to see him, to see a knight with his face creased with an emotion you do not recognize. 

“I cannot-“ you shake your head, “It cannot be you.”

With that, you turn, and run. Once again, you put distance between yourself and Gwayne Hightower. It cannot be him. He cannot be the one who angers you daily, yet writes you so sweetly with honeyed words. Gwayne Hightower cannot be your Unfamiliar.

You do not stop until you reach your chambers, slamming the door shut behind you. You all but tear off your rubies, your pretty dress, feeling tainted now. Once again, you have dressed for nothing. Once you are bare you throw yourself onto you bed, a dreamless sleep 

His most recent letter will go without response. 

[kettlefire]

Age is but a Number (DPxDC)

Daniel Fenton was only thirteen months old when he took his first steps. Only fifteen months old when he said his first words. He was two years old when he uttered his first sentence.

Danny could walk back his whole timeline from the moment he opened his eyes into this world. Except, none of those moments counted. They held no true weight for Danny's life.

No, there were certain moments that mattered. That had a clear shift to his life. Not every moment, not every milestone mattered.

Danny was five years old when he first felt the sting of disappointment at his parents missing a school event. He was six years old when the lab door was closed in his face for the first time, but not the last time.

He was eight when his young mind realized who was the one raising him. The one feeding him, waking him up, getting him dressed, and dealing with his tantrums.

Danny was ten when he learned to love and hate his parents for the true first time. Seeing both the good and the bad in them, and still loving them despite it.

He was eleven when he watched his sister crack under the pressure. Stood teary-eyed in the doorframe of her bedroom as he watched her cry and sob. He was twelve when he got into his first real fight with his mother, hiding away at Tucker's place for a few nights.

Danny was fourteen years old when he stepped into his parents' portal. When he accidentally hit the on switch. When a combination of ectoplasm and electricity ruined his life.

He was only fourteen when he experienced death for himself. Felt his life force leave him, and flood him at the same time.

Danny was still only fourteen when his world changed. New powers and abilities appear out of thin air. When a crazed billionaire latched on to him. When Danny had taken the mantel of a hero without meaning to.

He was still just fourteen when his life was filled with constant fighting. Both ghostly and human. Things got more tense between Danny and his mother. School was a weight that Danny wasn't sure he could handle.

Danny was fifteen when he had an existential crisis. The weight of a looming crown he was meant to take on the moment he turned eighteen or died fully. Having witnessed timelines where his family was gone. Having recognized a pattern of repetition in a life that Danny didn't want.

He was still fifteen when he made an impulsive decision. It was stupid and rash. Something expected from an angsty teenage boy, and not from an heir to a throne and a town to protect.

There had been no big fight. No big showdown. His parents still didn't know his secret. Danny hadn't bothered telling Tucker, Sam, or Jazz about his great plan. One moment, Daniel Fenton was in Amity Park. The next moment, he was gone without a trace.

Danny is just a fifteen year old boy, perched on a hill miles away from home. He didn't know what he was doing or what he was going to do. He didn't even know what state he was in.

He had just flown through the sky, a bag of emergency supplies slung over his shoulder. Danny had no intentions of stopping. That was until he stumbled cross a state line, and felt it.

A strong sense of caring and love. A feeling that Danny could only compare to the love he felt from Jazz. There was a strangeness in the air, but also a feeling of home. It drew Danny in like a moth to a flame.

Danny was just fifteen, curled up on a damp hill. Staring up into the night sky, and wishing for things to be different.

Not completely different. He didn't want to get rid of Phantom. Didn't want his life to go back to how it had been. Danny wanted things to get better. He wanted to feel like a kid again, something he realized he hadn't felt in a long time. Despite Jazz's best efforts to shield him.

The first tear had left Danny before he even realized it. A shaking hand wiped the tear away, silently cursing at himself for being such a baby.

Except that wasn't the only tear. It was like a dam, he never knew was there, had broken. Tears streaked down Danny's cheeks faster than he could wipe them away. Choked muffled sounds quickly turned to harsh gasping sobs.

Danny was only fifteen when he finally broke. Curled up on a random hill in a random state in the middle of nowhere. A glowing young teenager whose glow only seemed to dull with each gut-wrenching sob. Yet the stars seemed to twinkle even brighter than ever on this countryside.

So lost in the whirlwind of emotions that Danny was too young to fully decipher, he never noticed the approaching vehicle. Didn't so much as flinch when it came to a stop near him.

Danny's pain radiated with each sound he made. With each tear that left his toxic eyes. There was seemingly no end to it all. Until a single voice managed to pierce through Danny's bubble.

"Oh, dear... It's just a boy. Quick, grab a blanket!"

A small, frail voice was all it took. A voice weathered with age, and a tremble to it. Danny's whole body froze, head lifting to look at the speaker.

Except his vision had been quickly covered for a brief moment as an old flannel blanket was suddenly wrapped around Danny's shoulders. It smelt of dirt, hay, and warmth.

A kind old woman quickly followed to take a seat beside the glowing teenager. A warm, loving smile on her lips as she brought a thermos to Danny. An equally old and warm man seemed to follow behind her.

Danny's sobbing had quieted as quickly as it had started. The teen was completely bewildered, stunned to silence. This old couple, the embodiment of the American dream, didn't so much as blink at the sight a glowing boy crying on their land.

She had called him a boy. She had called him a boy. Danny was just a boy to her. His hands trembled as he accepted the thermos, taking a drink from the still hot coco inside.

Danny's stunned silence must have spoken volumes. The old man had given out a chuckle, moving to stand beside his wife.

"Don't worry, bud. Our son is just as strange as you."

Danny was just fifteen years old when he stumbled onto the Kent farm. When John and Martha Kent stumbled upon a crying glowing boy. When a sweet old couple hadn't cowered in fear but instead embraced Danny. Offering kindness and comfort with no strings attached.

He was only fifteen when he found himself a new home. A new life. One where he didn't have to be anything more than a teenage trying his best. When his powers weren't needed, only appreciated. Never expected.

A life where a warm home-cooked meal and a mother's kiss seemed to greet him every morning and night. Where a father's touch seemed to linger in every tractor lesson, every game of catch, and every time Danny learned more about the farmer lifestyle.

Danny was fifteen when he found his family. When he met the equally kind son of an amazing couple. When he had someone willing to teach him how to handle his powers, but never expected him to.

But Danny was seventeen when his past came back. When a town and people he cared about, all came flooding back in. When the guilt and shame of abandoning them came flooding back in.

When his new picture, perfect life started to crumble around the edges. When he realized life never went well for a Fenton and Fenton-adjacent. The perfect safe bubble had to burst eventual.

And well, that's a story for another day.

[introspectivememories]

NICO: WE SHARED THE LIFT THIS MORNING! I WAS GOING TO THE POOL TRAMPOLINE WITH MY TWO DAUGHTERS AND HE WAS GOING TO THE RACETRACK. PINKHAM: VERY DIFFERENT LIVES YOU'RE CURRENTLY LEADING.

[green-cargaytions]

forever excruciatingly embarrassed about one (1) fact, and that is that my band director knows that the band meme page is run by me

[syncrovoid-presents]

I will continue being gone for a few days, sadly my original al plan of releasing the newest chapter of The Consequence Of Imagination's Fear has also been delayed. My apologies

Can't go into detail because its hush hush not-legally-mentionable stuff but today is my fifth 12 hour no-break work day. I'm also packing to move too in a fortnight (which is a Big Yahoo!! Yippee!! I'll finally have access to a kitchen!! And no more mold others keep growing!!! So exciting!!!)

[punkrockisafulltimejob]

Also, I made a realization today. Today was the first time EVER where I have officially been too stoned to watch a horror film

[todayisafridaynight]

Isn't It Something though.............. I've always considered it a deliberate irony that he's always had his status as Arakawa's "only" son to fall back on (as Masato, anyway), and it was even his Get Out Of Jail Free card, but it was ultimately not the whole truth and they all more or less knew it. And there's also something there about the resources and support that should've "rightfully" been Ichiban's too, but that he was denied because Jo refused to tell the truth.

I can't quite articulate it right now but I wouldn't say you were jumping the gun in taking note of it! I do think it's supposed to be of note, to throw people off the scent on the first playthrough and raise eyebrows on subsequent playthroughs.

Also I'm 20 minutes into First Penguin (I started like, this time yesterday) and literally so evil to make Tsutsumi sing the high note when they were harmonizing their names 😭😭😭 he hates singing because he doesn't think he sounds good so it's incredibly rare for him to sing even when he's cast in musicals... LOVE THE PROTAG THOUGH. QUEEN

it really is just some Butterly Effect shit its genuinely bonkers that because arakawa opened the wrong locker, All Of This happened. question as old as time What Would've Happened If He Opened The Right One but god What If right..

you've probably finished the ep at this point since i take nine years to respond to things BUT AW JLKAJ THAT'S SO UNFORTUNATE FOR HIM NOOOO. LIKE RELATABLE BUT NOOOOOOO ESPECIALLY GIVING HIM THE HIGH NOTE if i may drop the smallest of spoilers this is at least the only time he has to sing iirc but honestly he sounded right fine 😭 AND IM GLAD YOU LIKE IWASAKI SO FAR GENUINELY one of the neatest protags of all time i love her so much

[verystressedcollegestudent]

if there's one thing i hate more than slackers in group projects its goddamn hypocrites

[louisa-gc]

how to start reading again

from someone who was a voracious reader until high school and is now getting back into it in her twenties.

start with an old favourite. even though it felt a little silly, i re-read the harry potter series one christmas and it wiped away my worry that i wasn't capable of reading anymore. they are long books, but i was still able to get completely immersed and to read just as fast as i had years and years ago.

don't be afraid of "easier" books. before high school i was reading the french existentialists, but when getting back into reading, i picked up lucinda riley and sally rooney. not my favourite authors by far, but easier to read while not being totally terrible. i needed to remind myself that only choosing classics would not make me a better or smarter person. if a book requires a slower pace of reading to be understood, it's easier to just drop it, which is exactly what i wanted to avoid at first.

go for essays and short stories. no need to explain this one: the shorter the whole, the less daunting it is. i definitely avoided all books over 350 pages at first and stuck to essay collections until i suddenly devoured donna tartt's goldfinch.

remember it's okay not to finish. i was one of those people who finished every book they started, but not anymore! if i pick up a book at the library and after a few chapters realise i'd rather not read it, i just return it. (another good reason to use your local library! no money spent on books you might end up disliking.)

analyse — or don't. some people enjoy reading more when they take notes or really stop to think about the contents. for me, at first, it was more important to build the habit of reading, and the thought of analysing what i read felt daunting. once i let go of that expectation, i realised i naturally analyse and process what i read anyway.

read when you would usually use your phone. just as i did when i was a child, i try to read when eating, in the bathroom, on public transport, right before sleeping. i even read when i walk, because that's normally a time i stare at my screen anyway. those few pages you read when you brush your teeth and wait for a friend very quickly stack up.

finish the chapter. if you have time, try to finish the part you're reading before closing the book. usually i find i actually don't want to stop reading once i get to the end of a chapter — and if i do, it feels like a good place to pick up again later.

try different languages. i was quickly approaching a reading slump towards the end of my exchange year, until i realised i had only had access to books in english and that, despite my fluency, i was tired of the language. so as soon as i got back home i started picking up books in my native tongue, which made reading feel much easier and more fun again! after some nine months, i'm starting to read in english again without it feeling like a huge task.

forget what's popular. i thought social media would be a fun way to find interesting books to read, but i quickly grew frustrated after hating every single book i picked up on some influencer's recommendation. it's certainly more time-consuming to find new books on your own, but this way i don't despise every novel i pick up.

remember it isn't about quantity. the online book community's endless posts about reading 150 books each year or 6 books in a single day easily make us feel like we're slow, bad readers, but here's the thing: it does not matter at all how many books you read or what your reading pace is. we all lead different lives, just be proud of yourself for reading at all!

stop stressing about it. we all know why reading is important, and since the pandemic reading has become an even more popular hobby than it was before (which is wonderful!). however, there's no need to force yourself to be "a reader". pick up a book every now and then and keep reading if you enjoy it, but not reading regularly doesn't make you any less of a good person. i find the pressure to become "a person who reads" or to rediscover my inner bookworm only distances me from the very act of reading.

[giamee]

🌐 ᯓ★୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊 '𝐍 𝐍𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐘!

hsr men x f!reader .... SMUT!! 🚨🚨🚨

request ؛ ଓ @coreakin-sakarat What will the honkai star rail men play when yr having sex and who bottom or both and do they go rithm oh oh and do they use toys on u and what are their favorite parts of ur body to fuck

gia's notes ؛ ଓ i did this as more of me just... talkin abt what i think the hsr men are like in bed in order from least to most freaky in my humble opinion. i hope that you like it even though i didn't exactly hit every point u brought up :(

DAN HENG .ᐟ୨୧ starting it off sweet with him, i see dan heng as more of a bottom than anything... he's not super experienced, quite a tender lover, and i see him as remaining quite serious and stoic within the bedroom too. definitely more of a slow and sensual pace, just wants to feel it all with you <3 he's quite hesitant to try things out imo, but i reckon that you could convince him to try out using toys with some convincing! 1000% a thigh guy, really likes pulling out and painting your thighs with his cum as he watches them shake. presses kisses to your forehead as you come down from both of your highs. lowkey i get the vibe that the aftercare and the cuddling and falling asleep together is more satisfying to him than having sex. THIS MAN CRAVES SKIN TO SKIN!!!! he will interlace your fingers while fucking and kiss all over your face!!! a very sweet lover <3

GEPARD .ᐟ୨୧ this man SCREAMS pleasure service top to me. he could cum in his pants just by watching you i swear. he just wants to satisfy you as best as he can :((( your wish is his command frfr. he'll put you in whatever positions you want fully customisable experience just say the word. will sometimes pause midway through sex just to ask you if he's doing a good job and if it feels good with his big puppy dog eyes AWEE. i think he would probably be a little hesitant to try out toys, especially at first? his logic reverts to him assuming that he wasn't good enough at pleasuring you and so you have to revert to a piece of plastic... but be a bit dominant and show, don't tell, him just how good a vibrator can feel and he'll be a lot more on board with the idea <3 his whole mentality is just.. do anything to give you pleasure so if you're on the freakier side, this man is game! (PEG HIM) the little sadistic side of you gets a kick seeing tears well up in his eyes if you edge him just to hear his whines and moans... he might be a top but this man is a sub thru and thru. a bad bitch (you) tells him what to do and he listens!! anyways back to when you and him are fucking... this man is just utterly in love with your pussy, they way it gushes and clenches around him, and his absolute favourite position is any where he gets to just bury his face in ur tits while he's buried inside of you because everything is just so comforting and all of him is now surrounded by something so warm and soft... he's in heaven <3 so yeah he's a tits guy who would have thought!! no matter the shape or size HE'S PUTTING THEM IN HIS MOUTH <3 his thrusts get real sloppy at the end when he's about to cum too, starts babbling in your ear about how good it feels and how much he loves u. what a cutie pie

ARGENTI .ᐟ୨୧ to be honest? i had to think a bit about this one. to me, argenti doesn't really seem like the type to bring up using toys... but that doesn't mean that he isn't game if you mention it. he seems ... not passive exactly? but he just seems like the type to go with the flow with sex. whatever you're into he'll just be like shit i'm down let's go. not kinky per se, but he's definitely a passionate lover. very much wants to explore sensuality. ooh maybe he would be into some sort of wax play or blindfold type behaviour i take it back. would probably chuckle if you decide to get on top and place his hands on your hips to help you adjust to his size and set your own pace <3 very loving, wants to celebrate the beauty of your naked body and worship it in the name of adrila. so yeah if you've got a praise kink, HE'S YOUR MAN!!! you feel like the subject of a poem as he sings your praises, telling you how pretty you look and sound when you cum. like shiiiii that would be enough to make me blush <33 in terms of pace and stuff, i feel like he would be pretty standard? maybe on the slower side because of... you know... passion. it's nothing crazy but still a good time. he seems like he prefers to be looking up at you so RIDE THAT MAN!! maintain eye contact as you sink down on it. raise your hips back up ever so slowly and watch the slightest twitch of his brow as you swivel your hips, sinking back down on it ever so slowly. you might just see him blush. and just as the name suggests, the knight of beauty is a SIGHT to behold when he cums (probably inside).

WELT .ᐟ୨୧ yeah peepaw has got some EXPERIENCE to him lmaoo. he's got a sort of... cheekier? side to him. as an older man, though, he doesn't exactly have the same stamina as he did in his youth :( but that doesn't mean that he can't still get down and dirty with you!! quite the opposite actually. so his solution? he uses toys on you <3 he's more of a bottom but he is DEFINITELY in charge. his dirty talk OMFGG im giggling just thinking about it he would praise you and whisper such sweet words to you as he slowly splits you open on his fat cock, telling you how you're such a good girl for taking him so well, how you feel so good around him, all so he can feel you clench around him like a vice grip as he finally bottoms out <33 def would just have his hands around your waist as he moves you up and down his length when you're feeling weightless. but if he's in a more passive mood, he also LOVESSSS just sitting back and watching you struggle to ride him with a lazy adoring look in his eyes as he holds a vibrator to your clit <333 he'll coo at you as you start crying from the overstimulation, his hands wiping away your tears so tenderly and encouraging you to keep going just for him <3 a little bit of a sadistic side to him because he really does just love watching you squirm. another thigh and ass guy imo, really loves the way they jiggle as they slam down against his own thighs as you start to pick up the pace and ride him with increasing desperation. also loves watching them shake when you cum <3. so yeah as a no brainer i think one of his favourite positions would be reverse cowgirl. yum <3

BOOTHILL .ᐟ୨୧ now dont get me wrong this man FUCKS. since he's a cyborg does his dick count as a toy...? yeah fuck it let's go with it HIS BIOCOCK VIBRATES!! so the sensations on that will go CRAZYYYY. and then i'm thinking because of his synthesia beacon and stuff he doesn't exactly experience much sensation down there. so when you're having sex, what gets him off the most is just seeing your pleasure as you unravel. makes him feel good vicariously <3 so yeah definitely a missionary lover in my eyes so he can watch all your facial expressions and reactions as he hits all the right places, how your brows furrow and your eyes slide shut and eyes roll back in your head as he keeps up his unforgiving pace at juuuuust the right angle <33 but don't get me wrong he's no vanilla bitch either!! if he wants to be feeling more ... sensations he can and will make you just sit on his face for actual HOURS just eating you out to his heart's content. you'd think that his tongue is cybernetic too with the way it flicks across your clit at a borderline INHUMAN speed. but no he's just that good. some of ur most intense orgasms have been from him tonguefucking you like this, his head firmly sandwiched between your quivering thighs as you're basically humping his face as u ride out your high. and hey, he's not complaining <3 and then his smug shit-eating grin does NOT help at all when you're still trying to come back down to earth and he's sitting up wiping the slick off his face with that hungry look STILL in his eyes good lord i hope u can survive the night. this bastard has definitely ruined toys for you, they just don't feel the same any more <//3

BLADE .ᐟ୨୧ fucks hard. angry and/or jealous sex with him has just gotta be >>> 😮‍💨😮‍💨 he's on the rougher side and for MOST of the time will dom. and also tbh i don't really see him as being the type to use toys since he's more spontaneous in terms of having sex (public sex. he's got a high sex drive) but very very passionate for sure- lots of grunts and low moans right up in ur ear mhhhnrng. but also at the same time i feel like he would be quite emotionally detached from sex at first, seeing it as more like stress relief than an act of intimacy? and don't get me wrong, some of the best fucks of your life have come from him when he's just trying to release some pent up anger, but on the flip side there's a more vulnerable side to him, almost. one that's barely there any more from years of bitterness and resentment, but still manages to creep up on him on those late nights where he can't quite sleep. so if you're with him on those rare occasions, this is when you experience him not fucking you, but making LOVE. he won't talk, but he doesn't need to, not with the way he's holding you close to him and kissing you with something akin to desperation as he sinks into you and kind of just... stays there for a bit. it's oddly comforting to him, and if he's feeling especially weak he'll need some comfort- just to get him through the night. it's these nights where you take control more, setting a slow and sweet pace and kind of just... hushing him and whispering sweet words to him as you slowly let yourself grind over him, feeling the way he twitches inside of u <333 but yeah back to not vulnerable blade. a fan of quickies for sureeee (see: high sex drive) another tit guy because i am biased. the force of his thrusts in some dark alleyway or hidden corner will have them jiggling and threatening to fall out of whatever shirt you wear. and if he's got you lifted up in his arms, your legs wrapped around him as you're chest to chest with each other, he just can't tear his eyes away from your boobs. leaves bites on them, laves over them like a damn dog until they're coated in saliva and stiff and perked up because of how cold it feels when drying on your skin. if you're in doggystyle, you'll feel his hands clasp over them from behind, a few short and sweet squeezes to them before his blunt nails are flicking over your nipples just to hear you squeal <3

AVENTURINE .ᐟ୨୧ just like blade, he very much has two different modes. let's start with the freaky one bc that's fun. he's quite open to experiment with all aspects of sex- who's in charge, who's topping, toys, positions, you name it. he trusts you enough to do anything with or to you short of causing each other pain. so yeah he's a freak alright!! i feel like if you're in an established relationship, he'll feel guilty due to the amount if time that he spends away from you because of his job, and make it up to you by spoiling you with gifts... he loves to buy you new toys to try out as he sits back and just watches as you squirm and then writhe in pleasure as he slowly palms himself, eventually unzipping his trousers and jerking himself off until he cums all over u <33 definitely gets a kick out of seeing his cum painting your pretty face and how your tongue darts out to catch it before it drips onto the floor <333 or maybe he just strokes himself to stay hard, his eyes hungrily watching you as your own remain transfixed on his cock, the flushed tip disappearing with every stroke of his hand, the slick noises of his precum overpowering the buzzing hum of the dildo inside of you. and then when neither of you can handle the tension any more, dying to feel each other's touch, after you've cum a couple of times and are all nice and sensitive for him, then and ONLY then will he finally put it in, quickly setting a pace to fuck your brains out like a wild animal <3 lovessss doggystyle or the speedbump position because then he's all up in your guts and ur moans/screams of pleasure are just music to his ears. definitely the type to go a little feral bc... yeah. so yeah that's freaky mode! but like blade he has a softer side to him UNLIKE blade it is still definitely there and more accessible... but that doesn't mean he exposes it to you just like that either. but yeah if he's feeling more vulnerable emotionally, especially right after he wakes up from a nightmare while you're groggily waking up next to him, he just needs comfort. you holding him and stroking his hair, telling him how he's safe and how much you love him. if you've been together for a while and he really trusts you, he might even cry. almost begs you to call him kakavasha instead of aventurine, and you oblige. and then as soon as his name leaves your lips, he's kissing you hard, gradually letting them become tender as you undress each other with the utmost amount of care. it's love that motivates him, from what you can feel from his fingers tracing your skin and how soft his lips press against yours. he lets out a quiet moan as he sinks into you and basks in your warmth for a bit, letting his arms now wrap around your frame tightly, holding you to himself as if you would disappear any moment. and you hug him too, draw patterns on his back, stroke his hair and hum as you tell him how much you love him, listening to the sound of his shaky breaths as you slowly raise your hips, sinking back down inch by inch to hear him hiss. at first, he would still refuse to let you see his face when you have sex like this, not until you gently coax him to look at you, and you see the crystalline tears already escaping from his eyes. he's definitely the type to cry during sex like this- something so soft and tender that it's overwhelming to him for so many reasons- the vulnerability of it all, how much you love and care for him written all over your face, the way you squeeze against him so perfectly. and then he buries his face in your chest as you keep whispering words of affirmation to him and he cums so fast, deep inside of you and then he stays even when he feels himself go soft. just because it feels nice. and he falls asleep just like that, clinging to you, the person he loves.

JING YUAN .ᐟ୨୧ another member of team lazy but pussydrunk (him and welt have permanent memberships lmfao) whenever the two of you fuck it usually starts with him making you work for it. involving either you getting off by grinding on his thigh or riding him, desperately throwing your weight back onto him to even simulate the feeling of his powerful thrusts- all in vain as he merely sits there, looking up at you with a maddening smile and just WATCHING you... what a creep <3 but yeah he loves loves loves seeing how worked up and whiny you get for him to do something, anything, just for him to do the exact opposite, placing two firm hands on your hips to effectively get you to stop, and you whine again from the loss of friction. and he'll merely smile, telling you how you're such a good girl for him, getti my off from watching you get so so close, just to do it over and over again. orgasm denial and edging really are his two best friends fr. so he's not really a strict dom but more of a tease, you get me? i think that YES he will use toys. really gets a kick out of vibrating panties or a vibrator inside of you that he can remote control <33 just really enjoys when you're in public trying to remain composed (what a creep <3) keeps u constantly stimulated all day, finally making it up to you when you both get back home, fucking you properly as you're on the verge of tears and ready to cum any second. hmmm hear me out on this but i think his favourite place to cum would be your back.. like yeah finishing inside is cool and all but pulling out and cumming all over your back just drives him CRAZY and ready for another round... as soon as you recover <3

LUOCHA .ᐟ୨୧ LORDDDDDD he's like jing yuan but even WORSE. he's dangerous too because in his eyes, it isn't him or a toy but him AND a toy. this man will have u in his lap thighs spread legs hanging over his knees so he can keep them open as he has one hand gripping your chin forcing to look at yourself in a mirror, the other hand holding a vibe to yr clit <33 every time your eyes start to roll back he'll do a light slap to your face, forcing you to hold eye contact with him through the mirror, his feline eyes dancing with mirth at your already fucked-out expression. and then when he's sure that his gaze is holding your attention, he'll let go of your face, letting his hand snaie downwards until his hands are collecting your slick on his fingers before pushing into you, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek that contradicts how hard he's fingering you <3 squirting is not an achievement but the new standard with him!! that man is NOT relenting until you coat his arm and the floor (even the mirror) he really likes making you kiss him just after you cum- when your brain is foggy from the intensity of your orgasm, you can barely hear, let alone process what he's saying, and when u finally manage to connect your lips to his the kiss is just so sweet n sloppy, showing how worked up he is already <33 he's a little mean with it but you wouldn't have it any other way!! because that man knows what you need and will DELIVER. and he loves alllll of you. especially your pussy. and ass lol

DR RATIO .ᐟ୨୧ ok stay with me now cos this one's more of a scenario but!!! imagine that you haven't seen veritas in a while because you've both been busy but he messages you, saying how he'll finally be back soon!!! and ur just so excited that you can't contain it, and all those lonely nights are starting to tally up... your hands just don't do the trick any more and you finally cave, getting out your old reliable dildo to try and satiate your lust. trying your hardest to focus on veritas while you fuck yourself so that you'll be able to cum... pretending that it's his cock instead of some silicone... moaning out his name into your room with your eyes screwed shut to try trick your brain into believing that it's really him!! and it seems to work because you can feel that coil in you begin to tighten, and just when ur about to cum you feel a hand on top of yours, startling you out of your impending orgasm. and you open your eyes to see none other than the man who you had been fantasising about just now <3 and he's got this smirk on his face and a certain look in his eyes, and when you glance down you can see that he isn't exactly... unaffected from watching you earlier <33 i feel like he would degrade you a little, calling you such a stupid girl for needing to think of him just to even get close to cumming <333 and you'll whine and get embarrassed, trying to hide yourself with the covers, but deep down you know he's right so you peek at him from behind your lashes, batting them and begging him to help you as sweetly as you can. and how can he deny you when you're just so sweet and submissive for him? he'll be quick to take out his cock, slipping the head through your folds, letting it catch as it skims past your needy hole, letting the tip slap against your sensitive clit just to watch your whole body twitch as he chuckles to himself before bullying his cock into you. even after fucking yourself it's still a stretch, especially cos he has you in a mating press, his strong hands keeping your thighs pinned as he puts hisbweight behind his thrusts, really slamming into you until you're bouncing back against the mattress <33 a good hard fuck that hits all the right spots he needs to in order for you to cum HARD. but if he's feeling mean, he won't even oblige your request, instead being all smug and settling back on his haunches, goading you to keep going and make yourself cum without him because you're just so close, you can do it. watches your pathetic attempts to do so as you huff and beg him because you just can't without him <//3 and maybe if you beg hard enough he'll consider helping you out... even though it's just so entertaining to watch you keep trying. ironically enough, it's the way he calls you his sweet girl as he finally pushes into you that sends you over the edge more than any of your own touches did. and once you ride out that high, body no longer convulsing on his dick, he'll pull out of you just to flip you onto your stomach, then pull your hips up to meet his before fucking into you to make you really cum because of him this time <33

SAMPO .ᐟ୨୧ this man is MOST DEFINITELY an experimentalist!!! 1000% down for literally anything. you use toys on each other el oh el. the epitome of a switch. he'll top or bottom too, it's always a good time with him. definitely a freak. tbh i headcanon him as having a crazy oral fixation... if he's not sucking on your tits already then put your fingers in his mouth!! he'll have hearts swimming in his eyes, especially if you let them slide to the back of his throat until he gags and his eyes get all teary!!! definitely a sight to behold if u start fingerfucking his throat. or maybe just gag him with your panties, letting urself hear his muffled whines and moans as you finally free his cock and deepthroat him <33 oh god his whines and moans... get this man on twitter NEEOOOWWW. as a top he's definitely more goofy about it, not super strict. sex is about making sure you both feel good and just having a good time im his eyes.

GALLAGHER .ᐟ୨୧ ... this man... a certified freak. me personally im not into it but IF U LIKE ANAL THIS IS UR GUY 1000%%%. he def loves ur ass more than anything. the type to stick a finger in as he makes out with you or just let his finger tease the ring of muscle, circling it ever so slowly to feel u squirm while sat naked in his lap. when he eats you out he'll let his tongue drop a little lower to tease both of your holes. if u let him he'll eat your ass with GUSTO. and YES he's using toys on you you're not safe... buttplugs with the cute jewel on them and when you're in public he'll give your ass a slap or squeeze just to see your face change as you feel it press a little deeper into you... he'll have a vibrator fucking into your pussy as he's all up in your guts, laughing at the way you can't even form words right now. yeahhh he's a FREAK. oh and did i mention that he's an ass guy??

SUNDAY .ᐟ୨୧ ohohoho. this man has actual YEARS of pent up sexual frustration under his belt. his wings. whatever. he's a man who thrives off of control, and this is no exception in the bedroom. massive dom. both soft and hard. but more hard <3. really gets off on u calling him sir LAWLLL. lowkey i see him being into some real freaky bdsm stuff... cos hes got the whole sexually repressed catholic thing going on n all yknow. likes seeing u kneeled w your hands tied behind your back. you stripped naked while hes fully clothed and smiling so sweetly as he watches you try and get yourself off by humping his shoe. anything for that power imbalance with him hrrrrng. and if youre feeling a bit more bratty, touch his wings. preen them, blow air on them, even grip onto them HARD with your fingers and it'll get him all riled up. and then that sweet smiling facade will drop and youll see his eyes change into something a touch more feral as he pins u down and fucks u hard and properly. just to remind u who's really in control <3. the aftercare goes crazy, naturally. but then i also saw this post talking abt how hes a PEOPLE PLEASER and i agree 10000% so when he's feeling more soft, your pleasure is his greatest reward. a headrush mix of sweet praise and filthy degradation. telling you how you're a nasty bitch who's just so good for him... how you take him so well like the filthy slut you are.... and he's just so so composed during it all like an ANGEL EHFHWJFJE it makes ur head spin istg. yeah he's a freak in the sheets LOLL

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[ SMUT ] how the hsr men eat pussy!

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