#Redding Convention Center

[citizenoftmrrwlnd]

PRIDE stimboard for : a black wolf based off the asexual pride flag requested by 🐺⚔️anon

x | x | x x | x | x x | x | x

[bioethicists]

this is going to sound simplistic + i promise you it's not: stop following people whose entire schtick is being cruel or fighting with others online. even if the ppl deserve it! even if it's not a ~problematic~ cruelty! even if you agree with all of that blog's opinions!

it's one thing if someone snaps back when provoked or posts the occasional "get a load of this guy". nobody needs to play up respectability for people who haven't given them respect in return. but if someone's online identity centers around being needlessly mean for laughs + they're constantly seeking out socially acceptable, easy targets for petty cruelty, that's a red flag. there's a huge difference between not taking shit/cracking a joke + mocking others as your several-hours-a-day hobby.

especially if, when they are inevitably in the wrong + mocking someone mercilessly to their 50k followers over something petty goes south (shocking!), they become extremely defensive or block everyone or play the victim or dismiss it as "well, how was i supposed to know they were autistic? i'm autistic + i don't meow in public" or whatever.

this isn't a "well i knew all along" post bcuz nobody should be shamed for being in the dark about something like this but many of the popular bloggers who have later been exposed for serious harassment or abuse should not have shocked us. if someone's blog is 90% shit like "you should light yourself on fire because you watch x anime" or "look at this so-called lesbian bitch + her ugly fucking boyfriend at a kink convention- it's giving drowned rats", should it really shock you that they are also being cruel or abusive in less internet-acceptable ways? if they've already shown you that they get a such a thrill out of being vicious that they do it daily + are regularly rewarded with thousands of followers?

[hotelbooking]

Red Roof Inn Hampton Coliseum & Convention Center Smoking is limited to designated areas only, for the health and well-being of all guests and staff. Feel right at home during your stay at Knowing that bathroom amenities play an important role in increasing guests' satisfaction, the hotel provides a hair dryer, toiletries and towels in some select rooms.

[whirlybirbs]

i am on my hands and knees begging for a shred of keigo takami baby bird kfc angel content from you, if you write hawks i will finally know true peace

— MEET & GREET ; 1 / 2 ; HAWKS ; 啓悟

summary: you manage to snag two VIP meet & greet tickets for your nephew's birthday. he insists you join him. part one of two. pairing: keigo takami ; hawks / f!reader word count: 3.1k tags: humor, meet-cute, pro hero culture, birbs ignores all relevant timelines yet again, fluff, phone-flirting, hawks is great with kids, t+, relatable pre-hook up hesitation, they will fuck next time a/n: hawks is the chappell roan of the mha universe. stop touching him. this man actually changed my brain chemistry in early 2023 but we don't need to talk about that. anways, this poll was on the ropes all day and i made the executive choice to feed the hawks birblets.

You feel like your face has been set in a semi-permanent cringe all morning. 

In your right hand, you're clutching your half-finished iced coffee for dear life. In your other, you're clinging to your nephew as he drags you through the convention center — one of the bright red wings of his beloved, homemade cosplay has started to go lopsided, and the six-year-old excitedly tugs it back in place as he tries to yank you forward.

"C'mon! We're gonna be late!" 

This really wasn't your scene.

Fan conventions had a way of making your skin itch. The amount of sexy All Mights you've seen this morning alone has to be some sort of milestone indicator for the environment. Whether nature is healing or dying, though, you have no idea. 

If you had it your way, you'd spend the rest of the day mingling through the artist stalls — but, to your nephew Hayami's point, the two of you had somewhere to be.

Your VIP meet-and-greet badge swings as you trip up and laugh. "Okay! Okay, slow down! You're about to yank my arm off!"

It was the best birthday gift imaginable for Hayami. You officially cemented your title as The Coolest Aunt Ever when you managed to snag the two VIP convention meet-and-greet tickets (complete with a professional photo and two signed copies of the convention's annual poster) after a harrowing seven hours in an online Ticketmaster line. There were only a hundred of them sold — and sure, you coulda thrown that pretty hunk of cash into a college fund for Hayami, but he was deeply in his hero phase. 

Originally you expected that Hayami's father, your brother-in-law, would want to go.

But, no, Hayami himself insisted you come with him.

After all, you helped me with my costume, he begged, I wouldn't have been able to do it without you!

That you did. Many a hot glue gun burn was suffered at the hands of those damn red feathers. If you squint from far away, the cosplay isn't half bad considering the thrift and dollar-store materials. It wasn't one of those inch-to-inch replicas, but it worked. 

He's like a cute, bouncing mini Hawks. Complete with goggles and wings.

And Hayami is happy. And that's all that matters to you. 

The line is already pretty long, and Hayami runs his gloved hands along the line barriers as he races to his spot, audibly wooshing the whole way — just like Hawks does, probably. His badge jingles, and he hops to a stop as you come up behind him and pat his head. The six-year-old stands up on his tippy-toes, trying to see around the Miss Midnight fan in front of them. 

"Can you see him?" he chatters excitedly, "Ti, can you?"

He's called you Ti ever since he could speak. Auntie was too long, and the shortened version has stuck. 

You hop up onto your tippy-toes, mimicking him — and you swear you catch a glimpse of a crimson feather plumage over the gathered heads of the other meet-and-greet fans. It might be another cosplayer.

"I dunno," you whisper, your eyes darting to your phone's lock screen, "It's supposed to start any minute—"

The telltale roar of fanfare lets you know exactly who has just arrived. 

Hayami's excitement is palpable. Without a word, you're hauling him up and perching him on your shoulders. His hands land in your hair, and you can feel his smile from down here. 

"Ti! It's him!"

The line starts moving not long after, and you finish your iced coffee while Hayami stays perched on your shoulders, utterly starstruck. You weave through the barriers, moving up a few feet every minute, until you're only four or five people away from where Hawks sits behind a long table. 

You have to admit, the guy is pretty cute. 

Cuter than the fan-cams make him out to be, even. 

Sandy blonde hair, sharp gold eyes, and big wings. There's no doubt in your mind he's showboating, but as people approach the table, you notice this hesitant twitch ripple through the red feathers every time someone gets a little too close. 

That cringe from earlier washes over your face again as a girl reaches over the table to roughly run her fingers across one of his flight feathers. 

It's Keigo's least favorite part of all this. 

I mean, there's a part of him that gets it. He's the #2 Hero in all of Japan. He's a big deal. He's top of the popularity polls, he's the people's bird, y'know? He's a marketed commodity that sells out each and every time. 

But, that doesn't mean he likes being touched.

Especially the wings. Hands off the wings.

"Hey, Hayami?" you ask, tilting your head up as you both step forward.

You can feel the sudden nervousness creeping up on Hayami as he nods and looks down at you. "Y-Yea?"

"Make sure you ask for permission if you touch his wings, okay?" you say gently, muscling him down from your shoulders and doing a once over on his mini-Hawks cosplay, "And remember to tell him your name!"

Hayami nods, his nerves palpable as he realizes the two of you are next. 

On instinct, his hand shoots out and grips yours for dear life. 

And then, one of the marketers waves the two of you forward.

The first word that comes to Keigo's mind is MILF. You're cute. Real cute. Definitely not the usual sort he meets at conventions, and definitely not the usual sort that buys a ticket to his meet-and-greets. The kid clinging to your arm is arguably even cuter, and Hawks can't hide the blooming grin on his face when the pair of you step forward.

"Woa-ho!" he yaps from behind the patterned table, "Dude! Nice outfit!"

Hayami is panicking. You can tell from his shocked silence as the two of you step forward. You bend at the knees, squatting to your nephew's height, then encourage him to go ahead, go on. His big, brown eyes bob from you to Hawks. 

"Go ahead, Hayami," you encourage softly, "Say hi."

Oh, shit. You're really cute. Is this your kid? Nah, no way. You're way too young to be his mom. Unless—

You've seriously got him weighing the pros and cons of step-fatherhood and he doesn't even know your name. 

He could do stepdad shit at twenty-six. Right?

"Hi, Mr. Hawks," comes the shy voice of the mini Hawks before him; the sandy blonde's chest clenches. 

This is too fuckin' cute.

"Heh, hey kid," he chirps back, leaning forward on the table as his mouth curves into a friendly grin; Hawks' eyes are trained on the kid's growing smile, "What's your name?"

"H-Hayami."

"It's cool t' meetcha, Hayami," Hawks parrots as your own proud smile grows. There's relief flooding your shoulders. Thank god, Hayami didn't choke the clutch moment, "I like your wings, lil' dude!"

Hayami gives a little turn, wiggling his prized, handmade possession. His confidence is building; the compliment lights the kid's cheeks up. 

"My aunt helped me make them!" Hayami chatters, his eyes brightening from behind the flight goggles strapped to his head, "She says I need to ask for your permission to touch your feathers!"

Keigo's gold eyes slip to your face. You give him an apologetic grimace, your eyes flicking to the girl beyond the VIP area still screaming about how she touched him, she touched Hawks, oh my god. You mouth out a silent apology.

Hawks' finds himself a little speechless. Doesn't happen often. 

He's not used to having some say in how he's objectified and consumed.

A sandy brow quirks as he pushes his yellow-tinted visor up, and into his hair. He seems shocked. It's not an expression you've seen on the #2 before — and in the last few weeks, you've seen plenty of Hawks content during Hayami's cosplaying journey. The reference material is pretty expansive.

"That's real considerate, chickadee — I appreciate that," his voice is soft; his smile is a little looser, "C'mere, Hayami, you wanna hold a feather while I sign your poster?"

This is, like, the best day of Hayami's life. 

Hawks brings his visor back down. 

You stand to full height, wringing your purse's strap, watching Hayami hold both hands out as one of the delicate pieces of plumage floats into his hands on command. He cradles it like treasure, his big brown eyes glimmering with new-found amazement. 

You step forward, and place a hand on Hayami's shoulder as he gently ushers his hands toward your face. "Ti, look, isn't this, like, the coolest thing ever — it's one of Hawks' feathers!"

Hawks' eyes flick up to the two of you as his pen darts across the two VIP package posters. There's a smirk on his face as he pays half attention to the task of signing. 

And scribbling his number on the back of one.

"I see that," you chuckle, leaning in to inspect the beautiful, crimson feather, "Make sure you say th—"

Before you finish your sentence, the very feather in question darts up to tickle the tip of your nose. Your immediate reaction is to scrunch your nose and grin. It's not so much ticklish as it is gentle. For good measure, Hawks gives Hayami a little brush on the cheek, too. The boy descends into delighted laughter, allowing the feather to zip back through the air and into its designated place in his wings. 

Hawks is smirking.

"Alright you two," comes the level voice of the marketer; the camera in her hands is bulky, and a signifier that their time meeting #2 is nearly up, "Let's get in nice and close for a photo!"

The table proves to be a bit of a pain, but you bend down to Hayami's height as Hawks leans over the table and gives you both bunny ears. The camera flash burns bright in your eyes as Hayami's hand darts into yours again. 

"Here you two go," Hawks rumbles easily; he's standing now, and you find yourself yet again struck by how handsome he is. He smells like summer air and some expensive cologne you'll probably never know the name of. Definitely one of his sponsors. 

You take both posters, as Hayami's excitement seems to overflow and he's nearly buzzing with excitement to know he has Hawks' autograph. The boy bounces at your heels as he clutches his signed copy of the annual convention poster. His big, brown eyes are wide with pure joy. 

"Thank you!" Hayami chatters, "You're the best, Hawks!"

"Thank you," you smile, taking your own poster as Hayami's hand rockets back into yours.

"Nah, it's nothin', chickadee. Thanks for the manners," he calls after you with a touch of good humor, "You're real sweet."

"No problem!" you stutter out, thrown entirely by the compliment, as one of the other marketers guides you towards the exit with a hand on your back. 

"Oh, hey! One last thing!"

You flick your eyes back over your shoulder as you're shuffled out of the meet-and-greet.

You watch Hawks mouth 'check the poster', and with a hand held up to the side of his face. Then, 'call me'. 

"You're kidding me."

Hayami is finally asleep — and your sister is closing the door to his darkened bedroom as she hisses the words out. You're leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed and looking entirely exasperated.

"I can't just call him," you say softly as you kick off the wall and follow her into the kitchen, "This isn't, like, the hot waiter who leaves his number on the receipt—"

"No, it's even better," she chatters, moving towards the unfinished glass of wine that sits on the dinner table, "I swear to god if you don't pick up that phone and call him right now—"

It's your brother-in-law who speaks up from the couch. "What's stopping you?"

"I don't know, being chronically single?" you cry as you throw your hands, "I haven't gotten a wax in months—"

"You seriously think #2 cares?" comes your sister's flat reply.

Your brother-in-law mimics her affectation. He throws a finger in the air. "Real heroes don't care."

The two of them high-five. 

...They're probably right.

You suck your teeth as you cross your arms again and weigh your options.

I mean — it's only eight o'clock. It's early. And it's a Friday. 

It could go two ways — you break your year-long dry spell with the #2 pro-hero in the country, or it's a total bust and he turns out to be a massive weirdo. Both are frankly pretty entertaining. 

You chew your lip.

Then, you decide.

You kick off the wall and move towards your phone in the kitchen. It's sitting beside the poster. 

"Oh my god, are you doing it?" your sister calls from the couch, her hand gripping her husband's arm tightly.

"I'm doing it," you say, ignoring the bite of nervousness in your hands as you type in the cell number that was scrawledhastily on the back of the poster. 

"Ohmygod."

It's ringing.

Suddenly, you have an audience. Your sister and brother-in-law are crowding you, their faces wide and expectant as it continues to ring. You pull your thumb to your mouth, pushing your bottom lip between your teeth. You let it ring, and ring, and just when you settle that you're being sent to voicemail, there's a click and a voice.

"'Ello?"

Your sister slams her hand into her husband's back, the two of them scrambling in a sudden flash of limbs and excitement. You drag your thumb across your throat — gesturing for them to cut it out. 

"Uh, hi," you fumble, "Is this... Hawks?"

Suddenly, there's a bark of laughter on the other line. "The one and only. Who's this?"

A slow smirk tugs at your cheeks. "I checked the back of the poster — a bold move, y'know."

"Convention Cutie!" he practically cheers, "Hold on, hold on — gimme two seconds, lemme just land."

Your lips part and you blink. The mental image is a hell of a thing. You swallow down a bought of amusement. "Sure, sure, take your time."

Keigo was starting to doubt you'd actually call him. The convention wrapped up hours ago, and he already made himself busy by exploring the southern city. It's nice here. A little bit like his hometown. Not too much crime, which has made for a pretty uneventful evening.

Until now.

His boots touch down on the nearby rooftop and he settles into an easy squat. His wings tuck themselves tightly against his back. 

You can hear a bit of wind bristle against his end of the receiver. 

"Alright, alright, sorry," he rumbles out, "Now you've got my full, undivided attention—"

You tug on your bottom lip. Your sister and brother-in-law are entirely hooked on the little bits they're overhearing from their spot across the counter. Your sister takes a long drink of her wine.

"Am I... being a bit of a distraction?" you ask, "If now isn't a good time—"

"You've been a distraction all day," comes the smooooooth reply; even Keigo's proud of himself for that one, "I'm just out for a fly. Nothin' too serious. I am glad you called, though."

Oh, fuck. Your knees feel like jello. You white-knuckle grip the counter as your sister gnashes her teeth and mimics biting her fist in silent mimery.

"Yea?" you pry, fanning yourself as you lean farther against the counter. 

"Yea, definitely," Hawks grins as he tips his head back and checks out the stars, "You busy tomorrow night? I'd love to take you out to dinner."

There's a commotion across the kitchen. The two of them are smacking one another's arms, their genuine excitement is palpable as they try to stay quiet. They're failing.

"I'd love that, Hawks."

This is new for him.

Technically speaking, you're not a fan. Your nephew is. So, this doesn't technically qualify as one of those unspoken hero faux pas. Don't date fans. Then again, what does it matter? He can do whatever he wants. 

And you're cute. And nice. And kind. And maybe he's being a sap, but seeing you with your nephew made something in his heart tighten. He didn't even notice he was making a nest of scrapped trash from the posters around his seat until the afternoon was over. 

God, sometimes the evolutionarily deep, bird DNA thing is weird.

Hawks lets out a tight breath he didn't realize he was holding. 

"Cool. Okay. Uh, you... you chill with, like, 7pm?" he fiddles with his visor, "I'm... I'm free whenever so..."

He sounds nervous. Your grin is so bright it could outburn the sun. 

"That works for me," you say as you fiddle with your lip, "As far as dress code goes... Do I, like, need a flight suit?"

His laugh is warm. 

"No, no, I — I was gonna get us an Uber," his voice lilts into something more mischievous, "Unless..."

"Maybe after dinner," you remark easily, swaying side to side, "You can show me what those wings do?"

Oh, smooth. Real smooth. Keigo's face is warm. His wings in question twitch eagerly at the invitation. 

"You gonna ask before you touch?" he teases back into the receiver, his brow raised.

It's your turn to laugh. "Hey, it's called being polite."

"I appreciate it," he rumbles out, about earlier at the convention, "Seriously. People are grabby — these things are sensitive..."

"Making a mental note of that, and filing it away," you flirt openly as your sister cheers silently, "For after dinner, maybe."

Keigo's brain stutter-steps. His laugh is surprised. He's about to comment on how you might just be the girl of his dreams when suddenly the wail of sirens perks up his attention. It's two blocks over. Three fire engines. The wind is carrying the smell of acrid smoke. 

"Hey, chickadee, I, uh... I gotta go," he says, standing and allowing his attention to drift to the scene playing out in front of him; it's a house fire — must be — on the southern side of town, "I'll text you the spot for tomorrow, is that okay?"

"Of course, don't let me keep you," you hush, "I'll... text you?"

"I'm countin' on it."

"Bye, Hawks."

"See ya, chickadee."

You didn't even realize you were sweating until you put the phone down.

Your sister and her husband are there, eyes wide. "So?"

"So," you croon as you laugh and pridefully sway your hips, "I have plans tomorrow night."

Their screaming wakes up Hayami.

As you help the kid back to sleep, you keep it secret that he's a better wingman than you could have ever anticipated. 

[natalievoncatte]

It took four calls before Lena answered. It crawled across her side table, vibrating angrily like some persnickety insect until she gave it the attention she wanted.

You could just turn it off.

“What do you want, Danvers?”

Alex’s voice was thick.

“We can’t find Kara.”

Lena let out a slow, long, theatrical sigh. “So now you’re accusing me of crimes over the phone. At least your ex had the courtesy to cuff me in person.”

Alex’s patience was clearly short enough, and wearing thinner.

“I’m not calling you to accuse you. I’m calling you to ask for help.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because she’s burned out her powers and we can’t find her, Luthor. Supergirl is missing and she’s powerless.”

Lena licked her lips.

“Is this some kind of weird test to see if I’ll try to kill her? An entrapment scheme or something?”

“First of all,” said Alex, “fuck you.”

“Mutual,” said Lena. “What was the second part?”

“The second part is that I know you. I know you’re pissed off at her. I also know that you don’t react the way you’ve acted because your BFF lied to you, Lena. Just like I know that buying a $875 million company isn’t what friends are fucking for.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean,” Lena snapped.

“Right. Help us find her.”

“No,” Lena said, coolly. “Goodnight, Director.”

Lena stabbed the end call key with her finger, resolving to herself that L-Corp was going to release a smart phone that made it more satisfying to hang up on people.

Then she very pointedly did not go out looking for Kara. Instead, she boiled water for tea, and spread open a technical journal on her lap.

After ten minutes, she had not drunk the tea, and her attention was sliding off the abstract like the wrong end of two magnets jammed together. Rubbing at her eyes, she decided she’d had too long a day for even light reading, and decided to enjoy a news broadcast with her tea.

Of *course* the lead story was Supergirl. She tried putting on the Lakehawks game, but that had been preempted for Supergirl coverage.

She turned to the science channel. Oh, of course they’d decided that tonight was the night to premier some ridiculous companion documentary for the World of Krypton exhibit running downtown at the convention center, and of course Lena works tune in right as Kara appeared on screen, grinning ear to ear as she charitably gave some literal kid reporter the interview of her lifetime, fielding softball questions about her dead planet.

“What do you miss most?” the kid asked.

Lena saw it, saw it the way only someone who knew Supergirl was just Kara Danvers, the nerdy, dorky, kinda basic goof in a pompous costume, could. The flash of real pain in the hero’s eyes, the softness in her voice, like she was apologizing for the honest of her answer.

“Red sunrises,” said Kara.

Lena threw the teacup across the room, and it shattered across the screen, leaving the dregs tricking down the surface. Lena wished the TV had been knocked out, but the screen was shielded by a transparent aluminum she’d invented herself.

So she changed the channel, just in time to get a face full of The Princess Bride, just as Buttercup was shoving a then-disguised Westley down the hill as he shouted the line the revealed his identity.

“Oh fuck you all,” Lena muttered, as she scooped her keys from the kitchen counter.

Lena decided it was a night for subtlety, so she took the BMW, driving with the top down and and her phone in her jacket pocket, so she could feel it if someone called.

Lena drove for the better part of an hour, reflecting on the absurdity of simply looking for Kara in a sprawling city; National City had about two thirds the population of Metropolis, but it covered nearly four times the land area and was surrounded by sprawling suburbs that extended the entire metro area to the size of a small state.

This was hopeless, unless Lena knew where to go.

You know what you have to do. You know what you’ve always had to do.

Kara answered on the third ring.

“Hi.”

Her voice was tiny and small, and Lena felt like she was clutching some small fragile thing to her cheek.

“Hey,” she said, with all the softness she could muster with the top down. She pulled to a stop on the side of Ocean Avenue so she could soften it further. “I heard what happened.”

“I beat the monster.”

“I know,” said Lena. “You always do. Where are you, Kara?”

There was a beat of silence.

“I don’t know who out you up to this, but you don’t have to do it, Lena. I know how you feel about me now.”

No, you fucking don’t, Lena thought, before she could silence her own frantic mind. If you knew you wouldn’t have lied to me.

“Tell me where you are.”

“I’m where I belong,” Kara sighed, the hint of slurring in her words hinting that she’d been drinking.

Then she hung up.

A wave of anger welled in Lena’s chest, and she clenched her teeth, seizing the shift lever to throw the car in drive and head home; Kara and her sister could handle their own bullshit.

She didn’t drive home.

Lena arrived at the convention center in a frantic five minutes, parking crazily in a towing zone. Finding a way in took another few minutes, and soon the flat soles of her tennis shoes were squeaking as they echoed across the polished granite floors of the lobby.

She found Kara in the exhibit, surrounded by quiet, dark displays as she stood in front of a bannered exhibit proclaiming “RAO, THE SUN OF KRYPTON”.

Kara ignored Lena as she approached, tipping back a sloshing, mostly empty bottle of Jack Daniels to take a hearty gulp.

“Kara?” said Lena.

Kara swayed slightly on her feet. She’d gotten a raincoat somewhere and put it on over her suit, cape and all, and even from a distance she stank of whiskey. She was staring at the display in front of her, an expansive orrery surrounding a lit model of Rao. Lena had never seen her so haggard, even her lustrous hair limp sallow.

“Hi,” Kara said, taking another drink.

“What are you doing?”

“Chasing a red sunrise.”

Lena approached slowly, until they stood side by side.

She stole a quick glance. Kara had a black eye and she was swaying slightly, and Lena wasn’t sure if it was from the booze or the fight. She started to take another drink.

Grasping the bottle by the neck, Lena took it from her. Kara didn’t resist as Lena tipped back a long pull on the bottle herself. It offended her palate in every possible way but one, but it was a good way to numb herself.

“Alex send you?”

“No,” said Lena. “She just had to tell me. She knew I’d send myself.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s a lot more observant than you are.”

Kara studied her for a moment, then reached for the bottle back.

Lena looked at it. “How much of this have you had?”

“Not enough,” said Kara, taking another drink.”

“If you insist on destroying your liver, at least let me give you something that actually tastes good.”

“It all tastes like paint thinner,” said Kara.

Lena sighed. “Get in the car.”

Kara shrugged and followed Lena out, flopping extravagantly in the passenger’s seat. Lena drove in silence, using the excuse that the wind noise made it too hard to talk.

When they arrived at Lena’s apartment, she practically shoved Kara inside, and poured the rest of the swill down the drain.

“Hey,” Kara muttered.

“There’s still some of your clothes in the guest bedroom. Take that damned suit off and put on something else.”

Kara complied, trudging into the bedroom. She emerged a moment later, looking small and sad with her hands tucked up inside an oversized hoodie, wobbling giving Lena a glassy look.

As she sat down, Lena handed her a glass of wine and perched on the edge of the couch cushion beside her, gently pressing an ice pack to her eye. Kara leaned into it and let out a soft, unsteady sigh.

“Pain hurts,” she observed.

“It’ll do that.”

Then she went quiet, sinking into Lena’s couch with Lena’s ice pack pressed to her face. Lena stepped into the kitchen and pulled out her phone. Alex answered immediately.

“I have her.”

“Thank God. I’ll be over to get her in a few minutes.”

“No you won’t,” Lena sighed.

Alex didn’t answer her for a too-long pause.

“Yeah. Call me in the morning.”

“Will do.”

Kara had found the wine bottle when Lena came back, and was taking a drink form it. Lena sat down next to her and took it, drawing on it hard before passing it back.”

“What now?” said Kara.

“Is the ice still cold?”

“Yeah.”

Kara curled up next to Lena, bringing her legs up, her toes wiggling in empty air. Lena sighed and found her a blanket, spreading it over her too carefully.

As soon as Lena sat down, Kara spread the blanket over her, too, and Lena noticed that her absurd body heat hadn’t abated from the loss of her powers.

“You have tea on your TV,” Kara observed.

“Yeah,” said Lena.

It took her a few minutes to find something on television that wasn’t Supergirl or The Fox and the Hound.

(Fucking seriously?)

Nature documentaries were Kara’s kryptonite, to turn a phrase, and soon she was sleeping on Lena’s shoulder, the ice bag fallen into her lap. Lena stared down at the soft features of the surpassingly lovely little goddess snoozing against her and couldn’t help it anymore.

She started to weep softly, her shoulders hitching as she struggled to stop it, knowing the attempt was hopeless.

It got worse when Kara began to purr, a deep and soothing rumble in her chest that seemed to seep into Lena’s bones. After a moment she realized that Kara was crying too; she’d woken up.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I’m so fucking sorry, Lena. I can’t… I can’t breathe I’m so sorry. I lost my red sunrise. I can’t lose you too. I’ll do anything. Please let me make it up to you I promise I will, please.”

Lena shifted to a more comfortable position, known this was it for the night, that something had shifted. No, shattered. She was tired of being angry, of being afraid, if thinking of could-have-beens and come-what-mays. Yes, Kara had lied. Lena had lied. They’d kept secrets and been stupid and and they’d hurt each other, but nothing in the world, no principles or closely held rules or petty anger would justify watching her suffer like this.

She was careful as she cupped Kara’s jaw, avoiding the injury, feeling a flash of rage at whoever had done this to her. (That his ass had been throughly kicked by an angry Kryptonian was irrelevant; her vengeance would not be forestalled.)

The kiss was quiet and gentle, at once too soft and quick, more request than declaration, and Kara swiftly answered with one so fierce and honest and hopeful that Lena didn’t care that Kara’s mouth tasted like whiskey and wine.

When it was over, Lena found herself whispering, “As you wish.”

[cjlouwho]

Okay, here’s a prompt: I know everyone wants to see Tommy’s helicopter crash and Buck go save him (I do too obvs), buuuuut what about Buck gets into a dangerous situation on a call and Tommy has to save him 👀

first, I didn't see the "on a call" so oops, but here you go! trigger warning: mass shooting, blood, reference to child abuse.

He couldn't stop staring at the blood that covered his hands as he waited in the hospital lobby. It had long dried, some of it flaking away when he'd curl hands into fists. Most of it stayed though. A harsh reminder of how their perfect day turned into a horror show in the blink of an eye.

His legs shook with anxiety. He was usually so calm and collected. Even in the worst situations he could hold himself together. He wasn't one to panic.

But he was panicking now.

“Tommy,” Eddie's voice was gentle as he sat down beside him, “you need to go wash that off.”

Tommy tore his red, wet eyes away from his hands to look over at Eddie. “I can't.” His own voice shaky. “I can't leave here. I have to... I need to wait on the doctor.”

“You're not going to miss the doctor. I promise I will get you if she comes out while you're in the bathroom.”

Tommy shook his head, his gaze returning to the blood. “No.”

Eddie sighed. He didn't want to push the issue, but there was a fairly extreme amount of blood still on the man, and there were certain people who didn't need to see it. “Tommy, Maddie and Chim are about to get here, and they...” his voice trailed off as a tear dropped down from Tommy's face and onto his shirt. “I'll, uh, I'm gonna go get some wet towels from a nurse,” he offered instead. “You can clean up here.”

It had been such a good day. They'd woken up early together, still wrapped in each others arms from the night before. Buck had heard about an art show that was happening at the nearby convention center so that's where they headed after breakfast.

They were supposed to go to lunch afterward, head home for a while, then to Bobby's that night for dinner.

Tommy would have been fine with toast or a frozen waffle for breakfast, but Buck had insisted on making him something special.

“I think I've perfected omelettes,” he said excitedly as he hurried out of bed.

“You've been making perfect omelettes for a while now, Babe,” Tommy informed him.

Buck shook his head. “No, these are on another level. I'm sure of it.”

He wasn't wrong.

It was the best damn omelette Tommy's ever had.

Unfortunately, it had all come back up after he arrived at the hospital. Now, he wasn't sure if he could ever look at eggs again.

While Tommy was more of an art buff than Buck ever claimed to be, he had done a lot of research on the artists that would have their work displayed at the show. Buck had led them into the convention center hand in hand, a wide smile on his face.

Tommy may have loved looking at art, but he enjoyed looking at Buck even more.

They took turns talking about each piece. Buck would tell Tommy about the artist, Tommy would tell Buck about the art.

There were certain pieces that would grab Buck's attention more than others. They were usually colorful, abstract paintings. He'd tilt his head, think about it for a second before telling Tommy how it made him feel.

There was one certain painting, a slew of colors and chaos in the background with two figures in the forefront. One was a deep shade of blue, holding on tight to a red figure. Their bodies seemed to almost melt together in the center.

“What are you thinking?” Tommy asked, wrapping an arm around Buck's waist.

“It's me and you. You're blue, I'm red.” Buck made no effort to look away from the painting.

“Oh yeah?” A smile rose on Tommy's face. “How so?”

“Our, uh, our lives can be a little crazy sometimes, but you... you keep me steady.”

Tommy stared at Buck briefly before placing two fingers up underneath his chin. Buck turned to him and Tommy pressed their lips together gently.

“That's the most-”

His words were cut off by a loud bang. Followed by multiple bangs going off one after another.

Gun shots.

It happened so fast. People were screaming, crying, running all around.

The man with the gun was brought down quickly. There were security guards nearby who didn't hesitate to respond.

But all Tommy felt was something wet on his hands, up his arms, splattered on his shirt. All he saw was Buck dropping to the ground beside him with a loud thud.

Eyes wide, it felt like his heart was pounding but his breathing stopped at the same time.

He fell to his knees beside Buck as soon as reality hit.

“Ev- Evan. Evan!” He put his hands to Buck's face, tapping his cheek.

Buck's eyes fluttered open, but he didn't do much else.

Tommy searched over him, tearing his shirt to find the bullet wound.

No. Bullet wounds.

“Evan, I need you to keep your eyes open,” Tommy said, trying and failing to hide the panic in his voice. He pressed down on the wounds, one near his lung, the other over his abdomen.

“Evan, babe, can you keep them open for me?”

Buck's eyes opened again. He reached up to grab at Tommy's shirt, but he was too weak. His arm flopped back down fairly quickly. It looked like he was trying to speak, his lips moving without any words coming out.

“It's okay, Evan, you'll be okay. Someone call 911!” he yelled. He knew other people had been hurt, killed even. He knew there was most likely multiple people on the phone with 911, but it wasn't enough. He needed them there now.

There was so much blood. No matter how much he pressed, with every labored breath Buck let out, more blood poured between Tommy's fingers.

He kept his focus on Buck's eyes. “Stay with me, hon. That's it! Stay with me. I've got you, Evan.”

The paramedics arrived just as Buck's eyes closed, his body going limp.

*****

Tommy didn't remember calling Eddie. Or maybe it was Bobby? He'd look at his phone later to check. Didn't seem to matter right now. But most of the 118 was in the waiting room, scattered all around with their own worried faces and anxious ticks.

He must've asked Bobby to please leave him alone at some point, because he was sitting a few chairs away, and Tommy could feel his eyes on him every couple of minutes.

The feeling of a warm towel being placed over his hands brought him out of his trance. He hadn't even noticed Eddie crouching down in front of him.

“Want me to do it for you?” Eddie asked. He was talking to Tommy like he was a child. In any other circumstance, Tommy might have laughed about it, but there was no laughing happening right now.

Instead Tommy nodded. He wasn't sure he could do it himself. Not without breaking down in front of everyone.

Eddie began working on his right hand, the blood slowly transferring from his hand to the towel. He watched as it changed the towel from white to pink. He worked his way up his arm, just below the elbow. Tommy wasn't even sure how that much blood made it that far up his arms. The thought of it made his heart ache even more than it already was.

Once the right arm was done, Eddie picked up a second towel and started on his left hand.

Tommy tightened his hand when Eddie began to pull at the wedding band around his finger.

“Just need to get underneath it,” Eddie explained. “I'll put it right back.”

Tommy relaxed again and Eddie resumed cleaning him up.

He'd just finished when Maddie walked through the doors. In his peripheral Tommy could see Bobby getting up, could hear Howie's voice, Maddie's sniffles.

Eddie got up with the towels, walking out of view as quickly as he could.

Tommy could feel someone walking up behind him. He knew who it would be.

He couldn't even manage to get up. His legs felt like jelly.

There was a hand on his shoulder, then Maddie came into view.

Their eyes met. Maddie's were dark, filled with tears. Her lip trembled.

He was sure he didn't look much different.

She didn't speak, didn't ask questions. Just bent down and wrapped him up.

He held her as tightly as he could, letting himself sob into her shoulder. He didn't even know he could make the sounds that were coming out of him. Each one a deep, desperate plea for this all to be some horrible nightmare. He hadn't hyperventilated since he was fourteen, after his dad found out he'd been tearing out posters of all the boys from a teen magazine. Tommy had tried to convince him, unsuccessfully, that he was deciding on a new hairstyle and didn't know which one to choose. He felt the sting from his dad's belt on his back for nearly a week.

Maddie cried with him, yet somehow managed to soothe him at the same time. She ran a hand up and down his back, telling him it was okay over and over through her own hiccuped cries.

It took a few minutes, but Tommy managed to calm down. Maddie took a seat beside him, keeping a tight hold on his hand until the moment Buck's surgeon entered the waiting room.

Everyone was up and surrounding him within seconds. Tommy felt like he was about to throw up again, but he kept himself together.

“He's being moved to recovery now,” she said, and Tommy felt like he took his first real breath since Buck fell to the floor nearly six hours ago. She continued talking, going over exactly where the bullets hit and how much damage was done, but Tommy would have to ask about that later because he didn't hear anything else past Buck being in recovery.

Maddie squeezing his shoulder brought him back to the present. “Can we see him?” she asked.

“It'll take a few minutes to get him transferred, and he will probably be out for the night, but I'll have a nurse come get you as soon as he's in his room.”

*****

It took a couple of days for Buck to wake up enough to have a real conversation. Tommy was in the middle of making up the extra bed a nurse had managed to bring in for him when Buck asked where his wedding ring was at.

Tommy dug through the bag he'd been handed after Buck's surgery. He ignored the bloody clothes and went straight for the ring at the bottom.

He held it up as he headed back over to Buck, sitting beside him on the bed.

“Put it on for me?” Buck asked, holding out his hand.

Tommy did, gently gliding it over his finger until it was back right where it belonged. Tommy brought Buck's hand up to his mouth, softly kissing over the ring.

“Perfect,” Buck said, a content smile on his own face.

Tommy sighed. He rested Buck's hand between his own. “You were wrong the other day, you know.”

Buck's eyebrows furrowed. “When?”

“At the art show, you remember that one painting?”

“The one I was looking at when-”

“Mhm.”

“I remember.”

“You said I was the blue one, and you were red. That I kept you steady.”

Buck nodded, unsure where Tommy was going with this.

Tommy kept his eyes on their intertwined hands. “It's the other way around,” he admitted.

He was met with silence, but after a moment Buck lifted his hand and pressed two fingers under Tommy's chin, lifting his head so their eyes met. “Come here,” he said, unable to raise himself up.

Tommy leaned forward until their lips met in a chaste kiss. Once they parted, Tommy kept his forehead pressed against Buck's.

“I love you, Mr. Buckley-Kinard,” Buck whispered in the space between them.

Tommy closed his eyes, letting the words soak in before whispering back, “I love you more, Mr. Buckley-Kinard.”

[charmwasjess]

That One About the Temple Clones AU

Here's an underexplored and juicy plot point in the prequels that I can't stop thinking about! Because Sifo-Dyas was killed so early in the new canon timeline of the creation of the clones, with Dooku impersonating him to handle the subsequent details, we don’t even know exactly what he intended the clone army to be.

I think there’s even an argument to be made that Sifo-Dyas intended the clones to be culturally Jedi. Raised and trained in the Jedi Temple(s), learning Jedi skills and ways of life, growing up in a shared community alongside the Jedi. The clones serving not as an emergency button to hit in case of war, but as a support to the overstretched, under resourced Jedi Order in an increasingly violent, chaotic galaxy, one that might prevent the war he foresaw from ever even happening.

To begin, I’ll briefly touch on the galactic situation immediately before The Phantom Menace. Time and time again, we’re given a picture of the Jedi Order that is being stretched to its limit. All across the galaxy, Jedi temples such as the ones we see operating in the High Republic era in the Acolyte, are being shut down because the Jedi just can’t staff them. The novel The Living Force, set immediately before TPM, deals with the repercussions of these shut downs for the people living in those sectors - destabilization, a vacuum where the power hungry and corrupt can come into the space left and make life awful for the people. Problems arise, these systems go to the Republic for help, the Republic can't help due to bureaucratic red tape and lack of Jedi resources, and this creates more bad feelings about the Jedi and a great environment to grow the Separatist cause.

"I always heard so much about the Jedi. I never saw one, but they told me that was because you saved people -- and then you left!" - The Living Force

Enter Sifo-Dyas. As a member of the Jedi Council in this era, he would have overseen dozens of these painful but unavoidable closures. More, he was trained by Lene Kostana, a High Republic era Jedi, who remembered the golden age of the Jedi, all of these Jedi outposts, temples, and cultural centers being open and thriving, and surely filled her Padawan’s head with these stories. When Sifo-Dyas foresaw a coming cataclysmic war that would destroy the Jedi Order, it's not hard to see where he might have made a connection between the pervasive problem that was a lack of Jedi resources, and the galaxy falling further into darkness. In fact, it's exactly what happens in the prequels with a little push from the Sith.

The Living Force novel tells us outright that Sifo-Dyas’s original plan before deciding on the clones was to use his role as a Jedi Seeker to fill the Jedi Order with as many new Jedi as possible to counter the coming threats:

“(Sifo-Dyas) was always in a big damn hurry. Like the Republic would end if he didn’t swell the ranks.” - The Living Force 

Wow, Even Piell, that line aged like milk, buddy!

 Ki-Adi Mundi frowned. “Indeed, sometimes those he brought to us were not even viable candidates.”  - The Living Force 

So, Sifo-Dyas was originally trying to bring as many kids into the Order as possible, and didn’t particularly care if they were very Force sensitive. An intriguing detail, when considering how closely he might have imagined the non-Force-sensitive clones to work in Jedi roles.

Interestingly, he didn’t actually abandon that “swell the ranks” plan - he got his ass fired, so he couldn’t bring any more Jedi in the conventional way. Sifo-Dyas is in a desperate situation here, he feels he's running out of time, and he needs to get as many people into the Jedi Order as quickly as possible. I think you might see where I'm going with this.

“The future should remain unseen, but unfortunately, Sifo-Dyas has little choice in the matter.”  -Lene Kostana, Dooku Jedi Lost

We know he arranged the initial order for the clones, but not how he intended to use them, or saw their role, or even if he would have agreed with Jango as the DNA donor, since that part came in from Dooku.  If Sifo-Dyas, lifelong Jedi and true believer in the Order, was creating something to help defend his people in their darkest hour, it stands to reason that he might look within his own culture for their training, instead of outside of it.

Did he see them as a secret weapon, a surprise help in the hour of greatest need, as they would ultimately function as on Geonosis? Or did he envision the clones being raised with Jedi involvement on every level of their development, growing into keepers of the peace to fill those hundreds of empty temples and outposts and restabilize a galaxy sliding toward darkness?

I think an important clue that supports the latter argument is that as Sifo-Dyas is literally falling out of the sky to his death, he is busy trying to get a message to the Council that he ordered the clones via a recording: 

I've seen a vision of the future that I feel warrants an army. You've disagreed with me, but I felt I had no choice. Therefore I have ordered one: a clone army from the Kaminoans. Something must be done, and I made that decision. - Sifo-Dyas, Force Collector

He's hardly trying to keep the (currently embryonic!) clones a secret here. He seems to think he's done his part and the Council has no choice but to take it from there, and follow through with his unmentioned plan. He has delivered the needed personnel. And bear in mind, Sifo-Dyas did not expect his death to be a 10 year old mystery. He seems to have spent his very last breaths protecting Sillman and therefore leaving a witness to everything that happened. His last words are literally “Come find me!” 

These are not the actions of a man who has set his plan into perfect motion and a magic army will appear just at the right time in ten years. This is a man who is facing his unexpected death and realizing that he needs to tell the Council, who disagreed with him but he clearly still trusts, what he did because he won't be there to handle the details himself. It's almost poignant.

-

I worried about making this post at all because I’m not actually interested in blorbo apologism. Sifo-Dyas’s story is much more interesting if he is a good man forced to go to desperate, awful lengths to keep the apocalypse from happening. Whatever he intended the clones to be, it ended in Order 66; in a way, it doesn't even matter.  And yet, I think there’s something compelling there too, and I think canon gives us just enough - at least make an argument for a culturally-Jedi clone army what-if.

[growth-opportunities]

A flat-chested woman wants her cosplay of busty anime characters to be as accurate as possible.

It had been an exhausting day. The panels, the artists alley, the games. Sure, Morgan had narrowly missed out on tickets to the upcoming premiere of Suit & Tie: Salaryman to the Rescue to someone in a low-poly robot costume but the con had been incredibly fun and that was the most important thing. Her legs ached as she trudged down the hallway to her hotel room, relief washing over her as she heard the door unlock. Her bed, freshly made, looked so inviting, careful to flop down on her back. She couldn't help a smile as she felt her breasts slosh on her chest for the first time in her entire life. The massive breastforms she needed to complete her costume from I Used to Live a Boring Life but now I Do the Demon King's Accounting were easily the most expensive part of her costume but, by god, did they make her feel good.

Her flat chest never got much attention. Her breasts were just... not there. Not 'small', not 'petite', non-existent. Morgan had learned not to trust people who said that they liked small breasts or that "all breasts are good, regardless of size", their look of disappointment revealing the truth. And there would be some twinges of that pain when she finally took off the breast forms, but at least she had one day of sexiness. In one act, she had gone from flat chested to being bustier than every girl that had ever made fun of her combined. The company that made them didn't even bother assigning them a cup size like the rest of their models; it was just "Humongous". They dominated Morgan's otherwise slender, diminutive frame, but neither she nor anyone else had a complaint about that. She rather liked being a short stack, even if she was ridiculously top-heavy. A part of her wished... Morgan chuckled at her own silliness, breathing out a deep sigh. Things just didn't work that way.

With a few hup!s to build momentum, Morgan pushed herself up to her feet to start the process of changing into pyjamas. She started with the easy stuff, pulling off the brightly colored wig to reveal her mousy brown hair, running a hand through it to get it to unstick from where it matted to her scalp. Colored contacts were retrieved, albeit a bit clumsily, revealing her natural rich brown (now slightly red) eyes. The process came to a halt as she emptied her pockets, finding the tarnished coin once more. The woman who gave it to her was incredible. A witch cosplay, though from what series, Morgan couldn't say. The staff had an ethereal air to it that was almost mesmerizing and the way the woman embodied the spookiness, that power... The words 'step on me, mommy' had popped, spontaneously, into Morgan's head, thankfully unspoken. But, instead of that treatment, the witch simply pressed this coin into Morgan's palm before walking off, a knowing smile on her lips. Morgan didn't see the woman through the rest of the day, but it was a big convention center. The dim light of the hotel room caught on the grooves of the coin as she turned it over in her hand. A faint, shimmering green emanated from the coin. It was impressive dedication to whatever character. The coin was heavy and it felt old, worn smooth by eons. Or a rock tumbler. Either way, it was a good memento. Morgan squeezed the coin tightly in her hand, bringing it up to her lips. "Fuck... I wish I could make my outfits look that real."

With an envious shrug, trying to seem casual about it, Morgan placed the coin on her nightstand alongside her phone, wallet, and credential lanyard. She felt a slight shifting on her chest, a new weight, but she just chalked it up to exhaustion and the fact that she had been sweating like crazy under the form; it did not breathe well. Her trousers came down, shimmying her narrow hips and trying her best to savor the sloshing of her breasts, a feeling that she knew would soon be a memory. The shirt was next, taking one last look at her cleavage before removing it. Ah well. It was fun while it lasted. She made a mental note to check their website about discoloration, pulling her arms inward to remove-

...

Next to be removed was the breast form, which-

...

A look of confusion flashed across Morgan's face. Was she that exhausted that she couldn't find the arm hole? She marched over to the small bathroom, having to turn sideways to fit through the door. The sterile light that flooded the room at the flick of the switch made Morgan flinch but, as her eyes adjusted, her jaw dropped.

The edges were completely smooth. Around her shoulders, around her neck, at her waist. It was just... skin, no different than any other part of her. Her mind reeled at the possibilities, wondering if her sweat had just made it stick to her, but no matter how much she clawed at the places where the edges had been some twelve hours ago, the silicone didn't come up. All of that motion had made the breasts wobble which was what drew Morgan's attention. They didn't slosh like fake, inflated tits. They sloshed like real ones. Real tits with heft and weight and made of real skin and flesh. The perfectly rounded, slightly shiny nipples that had capped the breastform when she bought it were gone, replaced with ones that, well, that looked a lot like her own. Just bigger. She reached a timid hand out to one, not an easy feat considering her size, only to moan, clapping her other hand over her mouth, as she gave the nipple a good squeeze. Her knees almost gave out under her, catching herself on the vanity. If she had fallen all the way to the floor, she might not have been able to get back up again. These were her tits. They were a part of her. She could feel them! They were huge and heavy and sexy and they felt so fucking good. Morgan didn't know whether to cry or moan. She staggered back to the bed, sitting on the edge and feeling her breasts fill her lap. Her breasts. She still couldn't get over it. She knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth but still, the curiosity over what had happened to her stuck in her mind. Right up until the light caught-

The coin!

Morgan nearly fell off the bed reaching for it, just barely stopping herself in time. As she turned it over in her hand, the green glow was gone. It felt lighter, too, though that might just have been in comparison to the new weight on her chest. She bit her lip, smiling, bringing the coin up to her lips to kiss it, offering thanks for everything it had done for her. She wasn't so shallow to think that finally growing tits would fix all of her problems, but it certainly helped with some of them. She giggled, enjoying the sight of her breasts, her tits wobbling with her motions. A single finger traced down the deep line of her cleavage, Morgan moaning as she pushed it between her massive breasts. If she ever met the witch again, she'd have to think of some way to repay her...

[anomaly-hivemind]

Horror Convention || No. 9 Gloryhole w/ Horror Characters x Fem! Reader

Kinktober Masterlist

Part 2

Word Count: 1995

Warnings: gloryhole, free use, exhibition, overstimulation, large cock, vaginal sex, gangbang if you squint, vagianl fingering, mask kink, stranger sex, cosplaying oral sex, blow jobs, hand job, spit as lube, multiple orgasms,

You were going to a horror convention, it was your first one and you couldn't be more excited to go. You were wearing a slutty freddy krueger outfit excluding the knife coves because they sold out at the spirit halloween. It was too late to buy any online. You were wearing a ripped up black and red cropped top, a jean mini skirt, some stressed thigh-highs and wedges.

When you finally got inside the convention center, there were a lot of things going on with an unsettling low amount of security personnel around. It was a bit overwhelming but you were going to push through it just fine. It was full of cosplaying horror characters, new and old, popular and niche. Even horror shorts films, tv shows and games.

“Can I take a picture with you? I really like the freddy outfit,” the muffled voice of a guy said behind an old respirator.

Oh yeah sure, I like your outfit too. It's from my bloody valentine right?” you lean into the guy so he could take the photo. The guy pulls you close to him for the picture, then he turns to face you.

“Yeah I've had this for a while now.” he laughs and crosses his arm.

“Well it's super cool, practically identical to the movie.” you look him up and down, he was a carbon copy of the original.

“A bunch of my buddies and staff are hosting an event on the west wing in an hour. You should totally go. “ The Harry warden cosplayer handed a pass for the event. ‘Glory Horror’ printed on the card.

“Yeah I will be there.” you nod and take the pass. You can't believe you got an event pass for free.

=========================================================================

An hour had passed, you had bought a scream poster, a friday the 13th shirt and the regret of your shoe choices. You push past the last part and make your way to the event. It was a ways away from everything else which was a bit suspicious but not enough for you to turn around. You show the bouncer guy your pass and ID, because you guess this is an 18 plus event.

You take a seat in the front, the seats were really comfortable. The lights were dim and the walls around the panel looked sound proof. This was super fancy for a panel. It makes you wonder what's going to happen, especially with how fast the room is getting filled with horror fans such as yourself. Most of them were wearing masks from what you can see in the dark space.

A bright red stage light hits the middle of the stage. The familiar guy from earlier that gave you your pass to this event walks to the center. Two other people dragged something onto the stage behind him, also dressed up, one looked like Amanda the pig from the jigsaw moves or the dead by daylight game. The other person was dressed like the monster from Jeepers creepers. There was a large box with a set of holes of different sizes, odd but you find the tv and cameras placed inside and outside the box.

“Welcome to this year's Glory Horror event. Many of you who know about this event already know what's up, but for our virgin Marys let me explain what’s up.” Harry warden cosplayer says through the microphone, his mask muffling his words.

“We’re going to pick a lucky Slasher Slut in the audience to go into the box.” The man snickered as the crowd went wild. Harry looked into the group of seated people, presumably to find someone to put in the box.

“Anything goes when you're behind the veil.” he points to the closed door.

You look around the audience that you were in and they all seemed excited to either be picked or see who was going to end up being picked. You just stare at everyone in confusion.

“You, are you willing to take a dive into carnal pleasures and try out the box?” He points to you from the crowd, when you point to yourself he nods. You stand up, nerves run down your spine as you walk onto the stage. You were surprised with how excited every person in the audience seemed to be that you got picked.

“What am I supposed to do?” you asked while looking at the box.

“It's pretty self explanatory, but you get in the box, the cameras are already set up, we gave you a screen to see the reactions you're giving people.” You nod at him and step into the box, it was large and you could stand up right without being seen by anyone, not counting the screen that was broadcasting you to the outside.

“You can strip down any point and if you want out of the box just push the button to unlock the door.

“You want me to do what now.” you asked from behind the wall, your voice muffled mostly.

“Strip, take off those slutty clothes and either open that pretty mouth or a hole. Prepared to get stuffed in whichever you choose and you can switch at whatever time doll.

You think for a moment, you could back out right now but a part of you wanted to see what happened. With a shaky breath you take off your freddy krueger fit and finally take off your dreadful shoes. You were just in your bra and underwear, taking a seat on your knees in the middle. The bigger hole was covered with a black sheet.

A knock on one of the sides catches your attention, you turn your head and your eyes widen. A veiny cock filled the hole, making it look smaller than it was and it makes your mouth water. You looked over at your screen to see what you're working with, a guy wearing a Michael Myers mask. Your lip quivers as you wrap your fingers around his length.

His balls twitch as you tighten the grip on this stranger’s cock. You use your saliva to wet the tip of his dick. You hear the faint groan of the Myers look alike, it was hot and a turn on for sure. You take his cock deeper in your mouth, almost gagging on it, using your hand to massage his balls and or stroke the rest of his meaty meat.

Another knock from the others size makes you pull your lips off Myer’s member. Someone else had slid their dick into the other hole, the screen splits so you can see the masked figure. It was Brahms, down to the black messy hair, even matches the drapes decorating the base of this man’s uncut dick.

You take your other hand and start to rub at his cute dick. Both of your hands were being filled with their cocks. You were soaking wet from how hot this was and if your hands went filled you would be touching yourself right now. You placed licks on both the dicks one after the other. Even the thought that there were a bunch of people on the other side of this box, watching and listening or maybe even waiting to take a turn with you.

It was hot, you felt hot and you wanted more of all of it. You squeeze the guys dicks as you jerk them both off with determination. Michael myers’ dick twitching was the only short warning you get before he shoots a hot load onto your chest. Your bra ruined with cum makes you pout for a moment before you take the thing off. You put your mouth onto the remaining man and take him down your throat. Brahms cums down your esophagus, his seed tasting weirdly sweet on your tastebuds.

You lick your lips after pulling away the dicks both gone from the holes, making you sigh. You slide off your panties and just as you thought you dripped in arousal. You rub yourself and let out short moans, a guy that was looking like Jason Voorhees pushed his phat cock through the hole. It looked heavy, craving your touch. You touch yourself with one hand while sucking off this fat dick. Even if you couldn’t fit all or even most of it into your mouth you sure as hell tried. You moan against the length of this Jason.

Your fingers thrust into yourself at a similar pace as you sucked and stroked his dick. You come to a stand and turn around, your wet cunt fluttering with horniness. Lining your slit with a guy who looked like a slasher’s dick. You let out a hearty moan as this fat cock stretches you out. You could feel his dick twitch and the man moan from the intrusion. He bottoms out in you, your walls clench around him and then he starts to move slowly in and out of you. You rub your clit as your hole gets pounded into. Another dick pops into the hole in front of you and wraps your hand around it with hesitation. Peaking at the screen in the box you see that it's a guy dressed up in a ghostface outfit.

“Ohshit ohshit ohfucking hell.” you were on the verge of coming and the mix of a Jason hitting all your spots with his girth was making it harder to focus on stroking the guy in front of you.

You try your best to get the other guy to completion but your own impending orgasm was a bit of a distraction to say the least. This Jason guy’s thrust was getting relentless and it was super hot to say the least. You hold on for as long as you could but when you feel the man’s load start to pool down your leg sends you down the edge. Before you could complain about how fast the guy pulled out another guy pushed into you, somehow even thicker and longer than the Jason guy.

You squeeze the hell out of the ghostface and your thumb pushes on his slit. It makes the guy come all over you and hand it a messy gush. The new masked covered hottie was fast enough to work you past that previous orgasm but Jason had given you but now you were getting a bit overstimulated. The faint tapping of the man's pyramid helmet on the box wall makes you giggle. Yet the humor in all of this was cut short from the brutal thrust this pyramid head was giving you.

You were already about to fall into another climax, you couldn't help but scream out a moan that you're sure everyone in the panel heard. Maybe even people outside nearby could hear your whorish moans and whales. This massive curved dick was rubbing your insides just right and your lower half couldn't take much more of it, not standing up like you are right now at least. You reach another chaotic mind altering, pussy spasming, leg trembling, back arching, toe curling climax that almost gives you whiplash an.

You feel the sticky seed fill your cunt and pull out with lackluster pace, almost like he didn’t want to leave your warmth so it takes a minute or so before he actually does . When the pyramid head finally pulls out, your body drops to the stage ground with a thud. You were panting like a dog, cum was dripping out of you and sticking to your thighs. Your heart is pounding in your chest as you try to catch your breath.

“This is the best Horror con ever.” you say breathlessly, as you look at another dick slipping into one of the holes. Checking your provided inside the box you see who it is, the host of this event… it’s Harry warden.

[citizenoftmrrwlnd]

PRIDE stimboard for : flutterbat (mlp:fim) with apple and vampire themes based off the transmasc pride flag

x | x | x x | x | x x | x | x

[izvmimi]

cw: fem!reader. minors dni. part of enemies to lovers au. reader is leads spokesperson for and president of an organization that calls for hero society reform. a/n: i'll probably be releasing a few parts to this and this is actually a follow-up with permission to an idea work-shopped with a lovely friend. first part here.

Your first night together doesn’t end up being hasty, heated and heavy in the stall of an overly luxurious convention center bathroom, but in a similarly over-the-top hotel room, the type that swears it’s not a love hotel but doesn’t separate the shower and the bedroom and has too many towels, and even more places to rest your body when you fuck nasty for hours. 

And Deku takes complete advantage of that. By the time the night is over and you’ve regained your senses, your core and everything below feels like jelly and your heart pounds in your chest, but over time, growing up with the unforgiving camera and the sting of negative online opinion, your poker face is immaculate. You’d hoped that Izuku was the type to fuck and fall asleep immediately, but he’s still awake, staring at the ceiling with a smug smile on his face, and you feel as though you should gloat somehow, just to knock him down a peg, but you know your voice will come out raspy and breathless.

He’s doing something with his hands, and you’re not sure what. Fidgeting. This is the time that either of you should leave the bed and go get a smoke, but neither of you smoke, and neither of you really want to leave this bed. You turn and pretend there’s something important for you to check on your phone; when you shift, you see that he’s rested on his side now, watching you with an amused expression on his face, waiting for you to speak, his head propped up by his elbow. The way his skin glows with a thin layer of sweat, and soft red underlies the smattering of freckles on his face, makes your stomach turn again. You see too much of him for the first time tonight, all broad muscles and scars and smiles, careful, gentle hands and wanting mouth. You know that you hate him, hate everything he represents, but it’s hard to quantify that when you’re still damp between the legs.

You have to regain power somehow, you tell yourself. 

“What are you looking at?” you ask. Immature and snarky, you tell yourself, but it doesn’t matter. He smiles. 

“You.”

You scoff but his grin is steadfast. It annoys you. You look at your phone again as if someone could have possibly sent a pressing email at 3 am in the morning. He’s still watching you carefully and you feel analyzed from your toes to your nose.

“You’re not the best I’ve ever had, but I have to give it to you, the pro hero body is at least good for something.” You reply.

He blinks, and you hope he takes offense, but instead an arm pulls you closer. He breathes deep and part of his exhale tickles your face. Your body tenses and you suppress a whimper.

“I still have time.”

Your head spins for a moment but you think quickly. Pulling back just a slight bit - he lets you, easily - you steel yourself again. Perhaps you should leave, even if it’s late, although there’s nothing you want more than to be rendered breathless again. 

“I think that’s enough,” you reply. Your pulse stabilizes, and you resume your mask of stubborness. “Momentary lapse of judgment, not saying I regret it though.”

With that you make your way out of bed, suppressing the urge to wrap your body in blankets so he can’t ogle you anymore, trying not to look at his perfect body bare and lose the resolve to walk confidently out of the front door. 

He sits up, crossing his legs and arms over his chest. A quiet moment passes as your footsteps pad towards the bathroom sink. The water turns on, and then he speaks again.

“You sprayed perfume on your ankles.”

You turn, confused, spotting him again, his gaze dark from your vantage point. He runs his hands through tousled curls and you remember why so many horny netizens bomb your social media, any time you mention the Symbol of Peace in an interview.

“Your point?���

“Your lingerie is expensive and the set matches,” he adds, eyeing remnants of lace strewn on the ground. You follow his gaze, your cheeks burning. 

“Maybe I enjoy the finer things in life?” you reply, lower lip wobbling and you bite your lip quickly, embarrassed. His eyes narrow and his lips curl into a smile. Devilish, unlike anything you’ve seen on television before. Before he says the next thing, you can tell he’s already pinned you again in this quick battle of words.

“Like me.”

Checkmate.

You can’t think quickly enough, instead retreating to turn on the shower, hoping it’s as loud as possible. Drowning him out, drowning yourself out, drowning this moment out of existence.

It won’t happen again.

[zomboivex]

What ‘core’ personality each Tokyo Debunker Character has!

This is not meant to be taken seriously at all. Hence why I’m only sourcing the info I get specifically from one of my favorite books, Surrounded by Idiots by Thomas Erikson.

Pretty much any information I use will be from the front of the book. I won’t go too deep into the whole study or whether or not this is actually scientific. It’s literally just for fun on my end. Take it as it is.

I am doing this solely based off of their face-value self presentations and not a deeper dive.

So- without further ado-

Red

Extrovert/Active/Implementer

Task-oriented and Issue Oriented

Aggressive - ambitious - strong-willed - goal-oriented - pushing - problem-solver - pioneer - decisive - innovator - impatient - controlling - convincing - performance-oriented - powerful - results-oriented - initiator - speed - timekeeper - intense - opinionated - straightforward - independent

Jin Kamurai

Aggressive - Ambitious - Persuasive - Distant - Pushing - Self-Centered - Sensitive - Objective - Impatient - Controlling - Convincing - Powerful - Initiator - Intense - Straightforward

Leo Kurosagi

Aggressive - Ambitious - Talkative - Goal-Oriented - Pushing - Problem-Solver - Pioneer - Decisive - Innovator - Impatient - Controlling - Convincing - Persuasive - Creative - Correct - Results-Oriented - Initiator - Speed - Timekeeper - Intense - Opinionated - Social - Seems Insecure - Expressive - Charming - Analytical - Self-Centered - Methodical - Seeks Facts - Needs Attention - Scrutinizes - Sociable - Logical - Questioning

Taiga Hoshibami

Aggressive - Ambitious - Goal-Oriented - Persuasive - Creative - Innovator - Impatient - Spontaneous - Expressive - Pioneer - Self-Centered - Powerful - Adaptable - Initiator - Speed - Flexible - Intense - Independent

Romeo S. Lucci

Aggressive - Ambitious - Talkative - Goal-Oriented - Pushing - Persuasive - Impatient - Controlling - Convincing - Performance-Oriented - Powerful - Results-Oriented - Initiator - Speed - Timekeeper - Intense - Opinionated - Straightforward - Independent - Social - Expressive - Charming - Self-Centered - Sensitive - Needs Attention

Ritsu Shinjo

Aggressive - Ambitious - Strong-Willed - Goal-Oriented - Pushing - Problem-Solver - Talkative - Enthusiastic - Persuasive - Conscientious - Systematic - Decisive - Expressive - Correct - Conventional - Controlling - Convincing - Performance-Oriented - Powerful - Results-Oriented - Initiator - Self-Centered - Sensitive - Objective - Structured - Analytical - Perfectionist - Intense - Opinionated - Straightforward - Independent - Communicative - Methodical - Seeks Facts - Quality-Oriented - Scrutinizes - Follows Rules - Logical - Questioning - Meticulous

Edward Hart

Aggressive - Talkative - Patient - Pushing - Problem Solver - Persuasive - Producer - Convincing - Spontaneous - Conceals Feelings - Powerful - Results-Oriented - Initiator - Charming - Intense - Opinionated - Self-Centered - Adaptable - Needs Attention

Lyca Colt

Aggressive - Ambitious - Strong-Willed - Goal-Oriented - Enthusiastic - Reliable - Problem-Solver - Creative - Optimistic - Loyal - Modest - Decisive - Expressive - Supportive - Good Listener - Helpful - Producer - Persistent - Reluctant - Impatient - Sensitive - Adaptable - Inspiring - Kind - Powerful - Open - Speed - Timekeeper - Intense - Opinionated - Straightforward - Independent

Yellow

Extrovert/Active/Implementer

Relation-oriented

Talkative - enthusiastic - persuasive - creative - optimistic - social - spontaneous - expressive - charming - full of vitality - self-centered - sensitive - adaptable - inspiring - needs attention - encouraging- communicative - flexible - open - sociable - imaginative - easygoing

Kaito Fuji

Talkative - Enthusiastic - Discreet - Supportive - Good Listener - Helpful - Seems Insecure - Optimistic - Social - Reluctant - Thoughtful - Follows Rules - Expressive - Considerate - Kind - Full of Vitality - Self-Centered - Sensitive - Needs Attention - Encouraging - Communicative - Open - Sociable - Easygoing

Haru Sagara

Talkative - Enthusiastic - Persuasive - Creative - Optimistic - Social - Spontaneous - Expressive - Charming - Full of Vitality - Self-Centered - Patient - Relaxed - Ambitious - Strong-Willed - Goal-Oriented - Pushing - Problem-Solver - Pioneer - Decisive - Innovator - Impatient - Controlling - Convincing - Adaptable - Inspiring - Reliable - Speed - Encouraging - Helpful - Producer - Persistent - Sociable - Easygoing - Kind

Towa Otonashi

Aggressive - Enthusiastic - Persuasive - Creative - Optimistic - Relaxed - Controlling - Spontaneous - Expressive - Loyal - Powerful - Full of Vitality - Self-Centered - Sensitive - Intense - Opinionated - Needs Attention - Imaginative

Zenji Kotodama

Talkative - Enthusiastic - Persuasive - Creative - Optimistic - Social - Spontaneous - Expressive - Charming - Full of Vitality - Patient - Relaxed - Sensitive - Loyal - Inspiring - Needs Attention - Encouraging - Communicative - Understanding - Lengthy - Open - Sociable - Imaginative - Easygoing - Supportive - Good Listener - Helpful - Producer - Persistent - Thoughtful - Considerate - Kind

Green

Introvert/Passive/Reserved

Relation-oriented

Patient - relaxed - self-controlled - reliable - composed - loyal - modest - understanding - lengthy - stable - prudent - discreet - supportive - good listener - helpful - producer - persistent - reluctant - thoughtful - conceals feelings - considerate - kind

Lucas Errant

Aggressive - Ambitious - Strong-Willed - Goal-Oriented - Pushing - Problem-Solver - Talkative - Enthusiastic - Persuasive - Patient - Relaxed - Self-Controlled - Reliable - Composed - Loyal - Modest - Understanding - Decisive - Optimistic - Social - Stable - Performance-Oriented - Charming - Full of Vitality - Supportive - Good Listener - Helpful - Producer - Persistent - Results-Oriented - Initiator - Speed - Adaptable - Inspiring - Thoughtful - Straightforward - Independent - Encouraging - Communicative - Flexible - Open - Sociable - Considerate - Kind - Easygoing

Alan Mido

Patient - Relaxed - Self-Controlled - Reliable - Composed - Loyal - Modest - Understanding - Consciousness - Systematic - Distant - Problem-Solver - Stable - Conventional - Straightforward - Independent - Objective - Structured - Discreet - Supportive - Good Listener - Helpful - Producer - Reluctant - Needs Time - Reflecting - Conceals Feelings - Considerate - Kind - Seeks Facts - Quality-Oriented - Follows Rules - Questioning - Reserved

Sho Haizano

Relaxed - Self-Controlled - Reliable - Composed - Loyal - Modest - Understanding - Objective - Structured - Stable - Quality-Oriented - Discreet - Supportive - Good Listener - Helpful - Producer - Reserved - Conceals Feelings - Considerate

Subaru Kagami

Patient - Enthusiastic - Self-Controlled - Reliable - Composed - Loyal - Modest - Understanding - Lengthy - Stable - Prudent - Discreet - Supportive - Good Listener - Helpful - Seems Insecure - Creative - Optimistic - Social - Reluctant - Thoughtful - Conceals Feelings - Considerate - Kind - Perfectionist - Needs Time - Reflecting - Charming - Quality-Oriented - Scrutinizes - Sensitive - Adaptable - Inspiring - Meticulous - Reserved - Sociable - Easygoing

Haku Kusanagi

Patient - Relaxed - Self-Controlled - Reliable - Composed - Social - Modest - Understanding - Charming - Stable - Adaptable - Discreet - Supportive - Good Listener - Helpful - Producer - Encouraging - Communicative - Flexible - Open - Sociable - Thoughtful - Conceals Feelings - Considerate - Kind - Follows Rules - Easygoing - Reserved

Rui Mizuki

Talkative - Enthusiastic - Persuasive - Creative - Optimistic - Social - Patient - Relaxed - Self-Controlled - Reliable - Composed - Expressive - Charming - Full of Vitality - Modest - Understanding - Sensitive - Adaptable - Stable - Prudent - Discreet - Supportive - Good Listener - Helpful - Producer - Encouraging - Thoughtful - Conceals Feelings - Considerate - Kind - Flexible - Open - Easygoing

Blue

Introvert/Passive/Reserved

Task-oriented and Issue-oriented

Conscientious - systematic - distant - correct - conventional - seems insecure - objective - structured - analytical - perfectionist - needs time - reflecting - methodical - seeks facts - quality-oriented - scrutinizes - follows rules - logical - questioning - meticulous - reflecting - reserved

Tohma Ishibashi

Patient - Relaxed - Conscientious - Systematic - Ambitious - Composed - Conventional - Goal-Oriented - Stable - Objective - Structured - Analytical - Problem-Solver - Prudent - Discreet - Supportive - Methodical - Seeks Facts - Quality-Oriented - Performance-Oriented - Helpful - Producer - Persistent - Logical - Questioning - Meticulous - Results-Oriented - Initiator - Conceals Feelings - Reserved - Intense - Straightforward - Independent

Ren Shiranami

Relaxed - Self-Controlled - Distant - Modest - Objective - Discreet - Scrutinizes - Follows Rules - Logical - Reluctant - Reserved 

Yuri Isami

Aggressive - Ambitious - Talkative - Enthusiastic - Persuasive - Creative - Conscientious - Goal-Oriented - Pushing - Problem-Solver - Pioneer - Decisive - Innovator - Impatient - Controlling - Convincing - Performance-Oriented - Systematic - Results-Oriented - Initiator - Speed - Timekeeper - Intense - Opinionated - Self-Centered - Sensitive - Adaptable - Correct - Needs Attention - Seems Insecure - Communicative - Structured - Analytical - Perfectionist - Needs Time - Methodical - Seeks Facts - Quality-Oriented - Scrutinizes - Follows Rules - Logical - Questioning - Meticulous 

Jiro Kirisaki

Patient - Conscientious - Systematic - Distant - Reliable - Composed - Loyal - Modest - Objective - Structured - Analytical - Supportive - Needs Time - Reflecting - Methodical - Seeks Facts - Quality-Oriented - Helpful - Producer - Follows Rules - Logical - Conceals Feelings - Reserved

I would give input on why I selected these but I really don’t want to right now.

[nickeverdeen]

Snowy Eyes | Hazel Callahan x fem!reader

Pairings: Hazel x reader (romantic)

Type of fic: Fluff

Warnings: None

Summary: Hazel isn’t one for traditional Christmas holiday especially with her mom home, so she figured a way how to spend them in a better way

——————

It was December 21st, just a few days before Christmas, and Hazel had, as usual, an idea. Not a conventional Christmas idea—nothing involving caroling or sipping hot cocoa by a fire. That wasn’t her style. Instead, you were standing outside an old community center with a bag slung over Hazel’s shoulder and your hands shoved deep into your coat pockets against the cold.

“I can’t believe you dragged me out here,” you said with a smirk, watching her wrestle with the bag’s zipper.

Hazel grinned, finally pulling it open to reveal a jumble of art supplies—construction paper, glitter, scissors, markers, and even a few googly eyes. “Trust me, this is going to be awesome.”

Inside, the community center was buzzing. A group of local kids, ranging from kindergarteners to middle schoolers, were sitting at folding tables with piles of crafts scattered everywhere. Their parents stood off to the side, chatting over coffee.

“You signed us up for… arts and crafts night?” you asked, a little surprised.

Hazel shrugged, pulling off her coat. “It’s more fun than it sounds, I promise. Plus, I thought you’d like it. You’re the artsy one, remember?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. Hazel knew exactly how to rope you into things.

The two of you found a table near a cluster of kids who were busy making Christmas decorations. Hazel dove in immediately, showing a second grader how to glue googly eyes onto a paper snowman. You watched for a moment, heartwarming at how natural she was with the kids.

“What are you making?” you asked, sitting beside her and grabbing a pair of scissors.

“I’m thinking something avant-garde,” Hazel said, holding up a piece of red paper that she’d cut into an uneven circle. “This could be a wreath… or modern art. I haven’t decided yet.”

You laughed and started cutting out stars from gold paper. As the evening went on, the two of you worked side by side, helping the kids make everything from paper ornaments to glitter-covered reindeer. At one point, Hazel managed to get glitter in her hair, which only made her look even more festive.

“I feel like this is the Christmas spirit,” she said, leaning over to inspect the snowflake you were working on. “Not all the commercial stuff. Just… making something together.”

You smiled, nudging her shoulder. “You’re such a dumbass.”

“Only for you,” she said with a wink.

By the end of the night, the two of you had a pile of creations to show for your efforts, including a questionable snowman Hazel had made with entirely too many eyes. As you helped clean up, one of the kids ran up to Hazel and handed her a messy, crayon-drawn picture of the two of you surrounded by snowflakes.

“Merry Christmas!” the kid said before running off.

Hazel looked at the drawing, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “Okay, this is the best thing ever.”

You laughed, taking her hand as you left the community center. The cold air hit you, but Hazel’s hand was warm in yours.

“I have to admit,” you said, leaning into her as you walked. “This was a good idea.”

“Told you,” she said, grinning. “I’m full of good ideas.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Like the time you thought starting a fight club was a good idea?”

Hazel snorted. “Okay, fair. But this one turned out pretty great, right?”

You stopped walking for a moment, tugging her closer. “Yeah, it did.”

The two of you stood there under the streetlights, your breath visible in the chilly air. Hazel leaned in and kissed you softly, her lips cold but her presence warm.

“Merry almost Christmas,” she murmured against your lips.

You smiled, pulling her back into the walk. “Merry almost Christmas, Hazel.”

[latenighttalkinqwp]

kk arnold x dancer!reader, maybe some smut too

kk arnold x dancer!gf

as they finished calling your entry number and the applause quieted down, the walk onto the stage felt like forever. your eyes darted across the room, looking for a specific pair to meet yours. the first few beats of your song began to play, and your mind immediately went quiet. this was your last time competing on stage before college, and you knew you couldn’t risk it. you have put every bit of your soul into perfecting this solo for this exact moment, and everyone in the room was able to tell. weather it was your technique being near to perfect, or the story being told with your body, the judges were loving it.

as you knee-dropped to the floor, you slowly looked up and met her eyes across the room. her smile was wide, and her phone was recording this moment for you. the emotion on kk’s face was evident, and it gave you the motivation to continue performing to the best of your ability. she has been with you training all these months, and she’s one of the few people who know how hard you have wanted this. being on the stage at nationals your senior year has been your forever dream— and now you’re finally here. “bum roll up…hold this leg. dear god hold this leg baby.” kk whispered, having every moment of your choreography memorized.

the angle of your body shifted, and your leg slowly began to come up into a développé for five counts. your toes were pointed, and your back slowly began to arch as you fell into a back-walkover. the audience cheered, as you began to walk off stage. your eyes were watering, and your team ran to hug you as the audience was standing to applaud you. “that was so beautiful.” your teacher whispered in your ear, hugging you tightly. you muttered a quiet thank you, just trying to get out from backstage. as the next number was called, you were finally able to break away and start looking for your person. kk was doing the same thing, looking around the convention center looking for your navy blue costume.

“kk!” you waved, speeding up your walk as you noticed her in the distance. she smiled, pushing past a few other dancers to finally pull you into a tight embrace. “you did so amazing baby.” she immediately said, wrapping her arms around your waist. you could feel your cheeks heat up, her compliments still having that affect on you. “thank you.” you mumbled, pulling back from her embrace slowly. you began to look around for a more quiet place, the constant flow of people overwhelming you. “i found a place we could go when i was walking over here, cmon.” she said, knowing what you needed. her arm wrapped around your waist, as she led you to an empty meeting room that the convention center had left open. you immediately sat on one of the couches, pulling kk down with you. she laughed, handing you a bottle of water she had bought for you earlier.

“i’m so proud of you.” she leaned in, pressing a small kiss to your red lips. you pouted, “what kind of kiss was that?” you said. “i didn’t want to mess up your stage makeup.” you rolled your eyes, wrapping your arms around her neck and pulling her in for a deep kiss. kk’s hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you into her lap. your emotions were still going haywire, the adrenaline from performing still surging through you. “you looked so good up there.” kk mumbled, pulling away to start leaving kissed down your neck. you let out a quiet moan, throwing your head back. her hands ran up and down your open back, and your body covered in chills. “kamorea..” your eyes flutter shut, as your body begins to melt into hers. “what is it baby?” she pulls you back in for a kiss, her hands wrapping your waist firmly. “mm..need you.” you say against her lips, still kissing her intensely.

“are you sure? so many people could hear us..” she leans up to whisper in your ear, then kisses down to the nape of your neck. “fuck- yes kk. please” before you could even finish your sentence, she had begun pulling your costume off, and leaving kisses down your your bare chest. your breathing picked up, as you pulled her shirt off quickly. she began to pull the rest of your costume off, and pulling down your tights gently so they didn’t rip. “you looked so good up there baby-“ she rubbed her hand up to the inside of your thigh, feeling the heat coming from your core. your hands come out to hold the back of the couch, as kk slowly begins to take off your underwear. it all happens fast after that- her slim fingers sliding into your core, while her thumb rubs circles on your clit. “fuck- oh my god.” you moan, biting down on your bottom lip. “you feel so good baby- so wet f’me” she rasps out, her fingers pumping in and out of you at a fast pace.

you can feel the knot in your stomach forming, and your hips begin to grind against her hand. “i’m so close- kk. oh my god.” your hand comes up to your breast, as you throw your head back. “that’s it baby, come for me” her fingers slow down for a moment, as you slowly come down from the high. kk slides her fingers out slowly, pulling them up to her mouth. your slick had covered her pants and nearly her entire hand- but that clearly didn’t bother her as she licked off her fingers. “you did so good baby.” she kisses your cheek, trying to find something to help clean you off. your chest is still heaving as you are trying to catch your breath, and your mascara is definitely running. “i can’t believe we just fucked at a dance competition- kamorea!” you giggled, pulling her back down and pressing a kiss to her cheek. “what? don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.” she laughs, helping you put your costume back on.

“you’re lucky i love you.” you both laugh, trying to make each other look presentable again.

- thank you so much for reading all the way through!

- guys this has been in the drafts for a hot minute… but lmk if this is good pls ( im not much of a smut writer so be kind 😣 )

[ryanyflags]

Trans Flags

I made a post with 4 striped trans flags a while ago, but I wanted to revisit it with some new edits/flags.

(Not all of these are mine, I just like having everything together as a set. I'll also be splitting them into sections, since there are a lot of flags.)

──────────✦──────────

transmasculine/transmasc ★ transfeminine/transfem ★ transnonbine/transenbine/transnbine/transnonbinarine

(Note: nonbine, enbine, nbine, and nonbinarine are words for nonbinary gender quality, nonbinary versions of masculine, feminine, etc. The first 3 I came up with, and nonbinarine comes from here.)

✦ All these flags follow these trans flag formats. The white and grey black stripes are the same for all of them, and the only thing that changes are the center 2 stripes, for the respective gender qualities.

The transmasc and transfem flags are the same as their originals.

Transnonbine was made by me. I used the yellow and purple stripes from the nonbinary flag.

──────────✦──────────

transandrogynous ★ transgenderless ★ transneutral/transneu

Transandrogynous is just a slight colour edit of the original. (I changed the bottom stripe to grey and adjusted the purples.)

Transgenderless is the same as the original.

For transneutral I chose green, as that's a common colour for neutrality. So it's like this variant of transneu.

──────────✦──────────

transmaverine/transmav ★ transxenine/transxen ★ transbine/transbinarine

(Note: bine/binarine is binary gender quality. Binarine comes from here, but I came up with bine follow the same naming convention as nbine.)

Transmav is pretty much the same as the original, though I changed the yellow and orange to be slightly darker, for more contrast.

Transxenine is quite different from the original. Instead of copper colours, I used a light purple blue colour scheme, just because I felt those colours were fitting.

Transbine uses the colours from this binarine flag. (I chose the lighter colours so it wouldn't look too similar to the transmascfem flag.)

──────────✦──────────

transmidbine/transmidbinarine ★ transabine/transabinarine ★ transatrine/transatrinarine

(Note: midbine/midbinarine is midbinary gender quality, abine/abinarine is abinary gender quality, and atrine/atrinarine is atrinary gender quality. I came up with midbine/abine/atrine following the naming format of nbine, and derived atrinarine from midbinarine and abinarine (which weren't made by me).)

Transmidbine, transabine, and transatrine all use the colours from my alt midbinary/abinary/atrinary flags. Besides this transabinarine flag, which uses a different format, I don't think flags for these exist, so they're pretty much new designs.

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transaporine ★ transoutherine

Transaporine is fairly different from its original. Instead of using bright red orange, I used the colours from this aporine flag.

Transoutherine is also kind of different from its original, mainly it's the colour configuration. I used this outherine flag as reference.

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From here on are combos of the above flags/terms :D

transnbinemasc ★ transandrogynousmasc ★ transgenderlessmasc

(Note: transandrogynousmasc is also called transandromasc. The wiki page lists transandromasc as both transandrogynous and transmasculine, so I assume andro is supposed to be a shortening of androgynous. However shortening it like that just means masculine, so I use androgynous instead so it's clearer.)

Transnbinemasc is a mix of the blues, yellow, and purple from the transmasc and transnbine flags.

Transandrogynousmasc is bluish purple, as a combo of the blues of transmasc and purples of transandrogynous. Same idea as the original, though I used slightly different colours.

Transgenderlessmasc is just greyish blue, as a combo of the grey from transgenderless and blue from transmasc.

(I don't think transnbinemasc and transgenderlessmasc have been made before, so those are new flags.)

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transneumasc ★ transmavmasc ★ transxenmasc

Transneumasc is just a edit of the original flag. (The colours are slightly lighter.)

Transmavmasc uses orange yellow from the transmav flag, and a adjusted blue from the transmasc flag.

Transxenmasc uses the purple from transxen, and the light blue from transmasc.

(I haven't found transmavmasc and transxenmasc before, so these are new flags too.)

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transnbinefem ★ transandrogynousfem ★ transgenderlessfem

(Note: same as the one about transandromasc, this one is also called transandrofem.)

For transnbinefem is a mix of the pinks, yellow, and purple from the transfem and transnbine flags.

Transandrogynousfem is a lot like the original, I just used slightly different colours.

Transgenderlessfem just uses a greyish pink, as a combo of the greys of transgenderless and pinks of transfem.

(Transnbinefem and transgenderlessfem are also new flags, as far as I'm aware, I wouldn't be surprised if similar flags have been made before, though perhaps just not in this format.)

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transneufem ★ transmavfem ★ transxenfem

Transneufem is based off of my transneumasc flag, I chose a light peachy colour for it. The original is pretty different, it uses a bright red instead.

Transmavfem uses the same orange yellow from transmav, and the dark pink from transfem (which I adjusted the hue of, so it would match better with the orange).

Transxenfem uses the same light purple from transxen, and the light pink from transfem.

(Last note about this, but I transmavfem and transxenfem should be new too.)

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transmascfem/transfemasc

Transmascfem flags have been made before, but not in this 4 stripe format (that I know of). I chose the dark pink from transfem, and the light blue from transmasc.

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There's also transoutherinemasc and transoutherinefem flags in the same 4 stripe style. I didn't make any though, since I couldn't figure out how to make it look. It's the same reason why I skipped out on making combos with transbine, transmidbine, transabine, transatrine, and transaporine, I just couldn't figure out a good design.

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I'll also note about the names, there's a lot of possible names for these terms, I didn't list all of them because there's a lot. So feel free to use these flags for alt terms, or come up with your own terms (as long as they mean the same thing).

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Haha I typed a lot, I guess it's a kind of a masterpost / compilation post with all these links, I think it's nice to have everything together in a matching set like this anyways.

[ageofevermore]

IT MAKES YOU MINE

SUMMARY — in the days leading up to your twentieth birthday, you seek the one thing you’ve never been able to find; your soulmates

WARNINGS — anxiety attack, omegaverse, soulmates, natasha being a worrywart 

heart masterlist, tomorrow at one 

In all the ways to spend the days leading up to your birthday, you had never that you’d sulk your way into a convention center for lost Omegas. Truthfully, you had always thought that you;d have no problem connecting with your pack, and your mates, but in nineteen years, you had never even seen an Alpha bear a soulmark similar to yours; and you have five. In nineteen years, that endless fire of hope that burned in your belly dwindled farther and farther down until it became a dull spark, the butt of a sparkler on the fourth of July– hopelessness. 

The convention center is just about as busy as you would’ve expected it to be, but it doesn’t comfort you any to know your worries were right. It was the first convention of the summer season, a period of months where being without a meaningful relationship weighs on hearts the most. For you, summertime and Christmas hurt the worst. For you, living through these weeks and months with nothing but isolation breaks your heart into pieces that can't be mended.

Growing up, you were never an overly excitable or happy kid. You tried your best in your academics, in your relationships and extracurriculars, you were sweet, and you were easy, but you were riddled with paralyzing anxiety that always pulled you out of the fun you were trying to drown yourself in, and as you got older, depression kept you fully on the shore. Most doctors have assured you that being united with your pack will ease your symptoms; headaches, nausea, spells of dizziness, and paralyzing dark days that bind you to the center of your empty bed. For as hard as your symptoms prove to be, you’ve never had any luck like your mother. Your mother passed away two years ago in the same way your father had been taken. If you had one thing, it wasn’t a clean track record.

Being in the convention center was enough to set you on edge. The soulmarks that decorated your soft body burned the longer you remained uneasy, just like they did every time, and your breath began to pick up in the shallows of your scratchy throat. You’d been in the convention center for all of thirty minutes, already desperate for an exit despite a lack of booths. Alphas hadn’t even began to scour for their lost omegas and already you needed an out.  

A defeated sound escaped your chest as your arms brushed against other excitable Omegas. You knew this would become just another bad idea, especially when you decided to come alone, after one-to-many anxiety attacks that became like rabbit holes of bad days, you had promised your mother that you would stop venturing out of your safe spaces alone; that had only lasted a few weeks after her death before it felt suffocating to always bother your less than affectionate and very intentionally scattered siblings.

You were in a disoriented panic, so focused on the blinking red exit sign ahead of you that you hardly realized that you had set her course straight for a female Alpha. It wasn't intentional, really it wasn’t, you just needed to escape, and the women had been right in your way. But, you hadn't known that until you went barreling into her chest. The Alpha growled deeply in her chest, having not expected to be plowed into, but her defenses fell at the submissive whimper that escaped you.

You couldn’t look up from your trembling hands, stuttering over an apology as you bounced between both feet nervously,  "S-Sorry Alpha. I wasn't, I wasn't looking. S-Sorry."

The woman, having not intended on staying at the convention long anyway, could easily scent the presence of an anxiety attack presenting within your chest. An anxiety attack that had been presenting long before you had stumbled into her space.

"Omega." The woman's voice was steady, and dominating. It wasn't at all her Alpha voice; that would've had you on your knees, but rather a dominating tone that she tucked away to work quite a few kinky minded men and women into submission. It startled your attention away from your fingers successfully, and your soft brown eyes went wide seeing just who you had stumbled into. Not only had you disrupted an Alpha's personal space, but Natasha Romanoff's. That only sent another harsh wave of anxiety rippling through your tight belly.

"I'm sorry! I-I'm sorry, Ms. Romanoff. I didn't, I'm so sorry!" If Natasha weren't so worried about your increasing heart rate, she would've smiled fondly at how skittish you were with a fluttering heartbeat that sounds like butterfly wings in a breeze. She'd hardly had any good experiences at conventions like these, especially once she's been spotted, but she felt responsible to overlook and make sure the presenting Alpha's had the right intentions with these otherwise vulnerable, and most times bratty, Omegas.

Natasha looks over the nametag pinned to your soft colored top and she prused her lips in admiration, Y/N. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. "It's alright, Omega. Come on, let's get you somewhere quieter." Natasha takes a hold of your trembling right hand, cursing lowly at how cold you must be if your icicle fingertips were any indication. She's not sure if it's from your  anxiety or just general coldness either.

"N-No it's really okay. I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention." You anxiously responded, trying to pull away from Natasha but failing with how weak you had become beneath the clutches of an attack. You hadn't had one in months, and it was becoming apparent as you were rusty in all of your self-regulated coping mechanisms.

"Omega," Natasha flickers her eyes down to the nametag again, "Y/N, I wasn't asking."

You whimpered, dropping your head in shame and submission as you allowed Natasha to lead you into a small conference room isolated from the rest of the madness. It was only when the door was fully shut that you could remember how you had to breathe to calm your racing heart; something you often forget when you become like this.

"Hey, none of that." Natasha fret, pulling your cold and clammy hands away from your forearms when you began to scratch at them anxiously. God, she didn't know why she felt so drawn you, but every part of her body was screaming at her to help by doing more than just standing idly by, but she didn't know you, and she didn't know what you responded well to. "Good girl." Natasha praised when you let her grab your hands, not even trying to pull away this time.

"It's loud in there, huh?" Natasha cooed. She's experienced a handful of panic attacks herself, all due to her time as an assassin and an avenger. She didn’t want to imagine what had triggered this in you. When the Omega gave her a soft nod, eyes flickering around the room nervously, Natasha let go of one of her hands; that were shaking significantly less, and touched her chin softly, leading her gaze back to her emerald eyes. “You’re safe in here, Omega. But I need you to focus on me, okay? Y/N, hey-” Natasha doesn’t get the chance to continue. She would’ve asked the trembling girl to start counting to five, but before she could, a sweet albeit timid and shaky voice was ringing in her ears.

“P-you.” She pleaded shyly, cheeks becoming a hot red at the prospect of sharing her name with the Alpha. you was never the best with figures of authority, especially in such a vulnerable state. It’s one of the reasons her mother homeschooled her for so long.

“Hey, okay sweetheart.” Natasha smiles softly, not wanting to startle the Omega that’s slowly beginning to find her footing again. Natasha doesn’t even think she’s noticed that she’s stopped shifting her weight, and that she’s gripping onto Natasha’s hand like she’s dependent on it. God, her heart is going to ache when she has to let this little Omega go.

Natasha still hadn’t found her Omega. Her ache for that intimate connection was intensifying as the years passed, and it was often a conversation at pack meetings. By all means, Tony Stark could have found their Omega seven times over in a matter of hours, but they didn’t want it that way. They wanted to feel the magic of meeting by accident, by authentically falling in love and discovering one another. But God did Natasha crave one of these sweet creatures to call her own through every dawn and dusk.

“How can I help you, You?” Natasha asked, backing the two of them up so that she was sitting down in the office chair, looking up at You. Her jawline was soft, but her bitten lip and clenched teeth made it appear harsher than it was. That tension started to fall from her face when she looked down at Natasha, feeling like she had some of the power in this position. Natasha had hoped moving to sit would give You that security, and her lips twitched watching the brunette girl come apart from her worries.

“Y-You’ve already helped me.” The Omega frowned, not understanding what more Natasha was willing to do for her. This was more than anyone had done for her in months. You hated being alone, but it was easier to leave when she didn’t have anything to hold onto.

“You’re still shaking, honey.” Natasha frowned, reaching for the younger Omega and leading her forward. “I’m going to pull you into my lap, is that okay?” Natasha asked, tracing every feature on You’s face to indicate she wasn’t okay with that kind of contact. She understood completely if the Omega protested. They were strangers. Even if biologically they were Alpha and Omega, nothing would permit for You to be stripped of her right to choose what she was comfortable with. “I need to hear you say it, sweetheart.” Natasha smiled fondly when You nodded. She hadn’t even had to think about her response, just nodding softly and shyly. Natasha was beginning to think the brunette girl in her arms didn’t have a mean bone in her body.

“Please.” You’s cheeks burned, her chin dropping farther into her chest as she recoiled into herself. Natasha felt her belly spark at the sight, biting back a giggle at the submissive of the Omega. She would’ve pressed for more than from the small girl, but she had a feeling she wouldn’t get more than a whiny ‘please’  in response.

Natasha moved to grab at your waist, letting go of your hands fully for the first time in twenty minutes. You felt like you were floating again, like a butterfly in the breeze, without her grounding touch, but breathed in sharply when Natasha’s fingers brushed against the skin of your hip accidentally. In the Alpha’s innocent attempt to pull you into her embrace, her bracelet had gotten caught on a loose thread of your shirt, revealing a small pink soulmark on your hip.

Natasha’s eyes were glued to the pink mark, her own heart rate increasing in her chest. Right where the skin on her hip was scarred over from a soviet slug, right in the place where all of her mates had her soulmark, you had the same one. A pair of pink ballet slippers etched in first position.

At the hitch of Natasha’s breath and her following silence, you jerked backward, away from the Alpha, away from her touch, away from her comfort. Your thoughts were once again reeling at the prospect of what could’ve happened to change the atmosphere between the both of you so drastically, and the calm Natasha had helped you work towards had been dismantled easily, panic settling alight in your belly again.

“I’m sorry! I-Im sorry, Ms. Romanoff. I’m sorry, A-Alpha!” You sobbed, backing yourself into a corner when the distant glaze in Natasha’s green eyes softened once more and her breathing evened out as she pulled herself together. There wasn’t any time at all for Natasha to react, to ease your spiraling panic and start the settling process again, because by time she got her emotions into check, and could fully process how badly you were blubbering, the world became dark. The walls felt like they were brushing against you, the floor felt like it was opening beneath your feet, farther and farther away from your head as it chased it, until eventually your body crumbled and your consciousness went with it.

-

The convention center clinic smelt like expired antibacterial, and the scent was beginning to give Natasha a headache, but she hadn’t been too focused on it. After coming to her senses, and admittedly, acting on her Alpha impulse which she hadn’t wanted to do at all, she had called for the med squad to assess you in the lower level clinic. Natasha would’ve felt more content taking you back to the tower, but she knew that was a major overstep. She hadn’t had the chance to tell you about the soulmark, hadn’t had the chance to ask if you had any more, and she was almost positive that you hadn’t made the connection from ballet slippers to Black Widow.

Natasha had learned quite a bit from the medical staff as they rushed around the small infirmary. Their frantic rushing wasn’t in concern for your condition, they were just frazzled by the presence of an Avenger, and if she weren’t so in her head with worry, Natasha would’ve laughed. The staff had managed to pull up your medical records, leaving Natasha’s heart heavy in her belly just thinking about all that her little Omega suffered. Anxiety, Depression, PTSD. It seemed that your list of horrors was ongoing and unforgiving.

Natasha was on her feet at the first sign of you coming to consciousness. You, her omega, whimpered sleepily and in discomfort, shifting around the stiff cot until you abruptly recognized that you weren’t at home. Natasha forced a smile onto her lips, stepping into your line of sight and watching as your heart rate spiked on the monitor you were attached to.

“Hey, Hey, you’re okay, love. You’re okay, darling.” Natasha coos. She wants nothing more than to reach out and brush strands of unruly brown hair from your eyes, but she doesn’t want to cause another surge of anxiety through your already tight and recovering belly. “No, don’t pull that out sweetheart.” She stressed, watching you fumble with the IV in your arms.

The medical team explained your condition to Natasha after the Alpha had worriedly bared her teeth at them, saying that the small Omega had fainted due to the severity of the anxiety attack, but her severe dehydration hadn’t helped her either. Already Natasha was making that a note in her head. Three cups of water a day, at least.

“I-I don’t, please.” You begged, still focusing on the IV in your arm. You hated needles, and already feeling on edge in your own body, the intrusion of something you feared wasn’t a comfort. You had managed to pull the medical tape off of your arm, leaving a stinging feeling to bubble on the sensitive skin, but that’s as far as you had come before Natasha was grabbing your hands.

“You’re dehydrated, darling. It’s going to help you feel less dizzy.” Natasha enlightened, though she was sure you knew what it was doing. If fainting was on your chart as a common symptom of your anxiety, she was sure that you had been in this situation at least a handful of times. Seeing that the distress on your face didn’t ease, Natasha’s stomach clenched in guilt. She wished she knew how she could help. As an Alpha it was her job to bring peace and comfort to her Omega, but you were a stranger to her. She’d never been in such a difficult and intimate situation with her mates until much later in their relationship; this was all painfully new.

“Water.” You were floaty with the aftermath of anxiety and sleep, and Natasha could see as much. “Water.”

“We can get you some water, sweetheart. Can I leave you for a minute?” Natasha asked sweetly, not wanting to startle you when you looked to finally be settling into her comfort again. Guilt was ripping apart Natasha’s belly and had been for the last hour. Her reaction to your soulmark was the reason they’re here after all.

“Don’t leave. Don’t leave, please! I’m sorry.” You sobbed, beautiful brown eyes brimming with tears as panic swarmed your chest again like a constricting blanket. You hated hospitals and infirmaries. You hated being alone. You hated your anxiety, and how it claws up your chest and paralyzed you. You hated needles. Natasha was the only thing even remotely settling about your situation.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Omega.” Natasha’s tone was soft, but it was firm. It left you no room to argue, but neither of you believed she had the energy to do so either way. “I won’t leave, that’s fine. I can stay right here, but I will have to call a nurse then, okay? We can’t get you some water if we don’t move.” Natasha teased lightly, hopeful that it would ease your tight chest. You smiled bashfully, dipping your head down to look at your intertwined fingers.

“Are you okay?” You whispered so softly, Natasha almost hadn’t heard you. Her heart melted looking into your soft brown eyes, wondering how you were all alone at a convention like this when all you had done was prove that you have a heart of gold.

“Of course, I’m okay.” Natasha smiles softly, squeezing your hands.

“You got so quiet.” You whisper, scared that mentioning what had happened in the conference room upstairs would upset the Alpha and she would leave you here alone. “Did I do something wrong? W-When we were in the conference room?”

Natasha felt her heart grow three sizes at your revelation. She hadn’t even realized that was what you were implying, but the thought of you being so kind and attentive made her heart swell with pride and adoration. Maybe she was crazy, but already, she could see you fitting in perfectly with herself and the pack. You were exactly the sweetness that they needed, especially with Clint’s recent coming and going.

“Hey, keep breathing for me, sweetheart. You’re doing such a good job.” Natasha praised when she noticed the spike in your breathing again, your words coming out quick and stuttered. Natasha had never had to be this soft with any of her mates, it was refreshing. She felt like she was needed, as opposed to just feeling like she belonged. They were two very different feelings she’d come to find out. “I have a lot to tell you, sweetheart. But I think that pretty head of yours should get some real rest before we talk about it. But yes, I’m okay. I pinky promise.” Natasha had a feeling that you would enjoy the lighthearted gesture at the end of her sentence, and she wasn’t disappointed by the smile that split your cherry lips wide. You raised your pinky for Natasha to link her own with, a blush settling across the apples of your cheeks.  

“I’m okay to talk about it, if you want. It would help me feel better.” You said shyly. Natasha just wanted to squeeze you, but she refrained from physically melting at your reassuring words meant to comfort her. How was it that somebody in so much pain was so sweet and kind?

“That pretty little soulmark on your hip,” Natasha began, watching every miniscule part of you for your reaction. She knows the boys would’ve wanted to be with the both of you when you found out, but a part of Natasha knew that a situation like that would put you on edge for days. Already, Natasha was overwhelmed with an urge to protect you from harm, to love you entirely.  “Is my mark.”

You flinched backward, away from Natasha and into yourself and the uncomfortable white cot. You pulled her hands out of the Avengers embrace, dropping them into your lap as they began to tremble again. Natasha wasn’t offended by your reaction. She’d expected worse if she was being honest. Bucky had screamed and cursed when he had found out that Tony Stark was his mate, and when Tony had found out that Steve Rogers was his head Alpha, all hell had broken loose in the tower for days. You was a gentle addition to the memory book in Natasha’s head of all these moments, a light ripple in the waves along the shorelines, a monarch butterfly drifting in a sweet spring breeze. You were refreshing.  

“B-but, you have Mr. Barnes! And-And, Mr. Stark! And Mr. Barton! And Mr. Rogers! A-And I’m just me.” It was Natasha’s turn to flinch. In all of the responses she’d come up with in her head. Of all the responses that she’s heard and been told of, never once had she thought you would feel out of place because of her social status. Never once did she think her sweet little Omega would put herself down all because of wealth and class. All because of the initiative.

“Y/N.” Natasha couldn’t help how rough her voice became while addressing you, but she wouldn’t allow your insecurities to fester any deeper than they already had. Your brow quivered at her tone,  “You are our equal. This,” Natasha lifted her shift, revealed the outline of her mark to you. It was a beautiful thing really. How on your own body, your mark is just a simple sketch, but on your mates it’s so much more. It’s a soft color that represents them, most are usually black, but Natasha’s, hers is a beautiful soft pink. She wishes she could bear that color on her own skin. “Is my mark. It makes you mine. It makes me yours.”

“C-Can I see my mark? Please.”

Your soulmark is a simple, sweet, heart. It’s just to the left of where Natasha’s heart actually sits, and only half colored in with a soft brown ombre. Brown had never made sense to Natasha or her mates, but seeing you, feeling your radiant and elegant energy, falling in deep with your soft and gentle mannerisms, brown was the perfect color to describe you, though not to take away from how beautifully soft your hazel brown eyes are. But, now understanding why the heart etched on her body was half empty broke her heart. You were a lost little girl. You had always been a lost little girl. You had always felt half empty. Natasha hoped that being united, being together, would change that quickly. Natasha hoped that sometime soon you would come home to her and them.