#ive always felt like this for the past decade

[machinavillage]

i feel like if i vent about this or talk about this im like. Showing Weakness on the internet and will get harassed for it. but reality check is i have 5 active followers here and the search function hardly works on this site!

anyways if youre trans you might not want to read this negativity lol ✌️

i think its very annoying when cis ppl want to say Things Are Getting Better!!!!

im not saying i dont want them to try to be positive but im not receptive to that shit unless another trans person says it. because from my point of view, for my entire fucking life, ive had it made clear to me that everyone secretly hates me or thinks im a freak.

the things people point to as "progress" is just generic "hashtag trans rights!!!" shit. a lot of support for hypothetical trans people, but not for the real life people. and for most dumb fuck liberals who call themselves allies, all it takes to sway their opinion is to hear the word "pedophile". all they need is to see 1 trans person get called a pedo and they go "😲 oh my GOD!? pedophiles! im against that!". or hell, not even a real person. make up a hypothetical trans woman that doesnt fucking exist, and it sways peoples opinions. because youre soooooo fucking stupid. so stupid. so so stupid.

at best, most ppl who call themselves allies cannot make it through an interaction with a real life trans person without saying some dumb shit like "wow youre really nice for a transgender!!!" and they certainly couldnt have a friendship or relationship with a trans person and actually care about them.

its just. to me most positivity will fall on deaf ears because. i know if i were hate crimed like most ppl in my life wouldnt care unless theyre lgbt. thats it. cis straight people would not. and ive always known this forever basically. a lot of being trans is having it communicated to you that youre just free game for people and theres no support for you when youre harmed. and then ppl make shit up and act like there's mountains of support for your when theres none.

but hey im also really mean and have no forgiveness or tolerance for ppl who were extremely transphobic and "learned better". ill never trust you and hope you die early. you're so so so stupid for falling for this shit and i have no faith in your judgement or intelligence in the future if you fall too deep into the transphobia hole.

like if at any point in my life, you've contributed to any of the above, contributed to reminding me that im always alone, no matter what, for something i cant change, i wish you would die alone and painfully. i wish your life would fall apart in front of you and everyone leaves you. hope your dogs or cats or other pets hate you

[angelstrawbabie420]

crazy how i have no one

[cuntstable]

i wish i could write meaningful poetry or even do comics properly to express ideas and things in my brain that haunt me a bit but i cant so im just left sitting on my bed staring at a wall and going Huh. Okay.

[eccleraprisma]

one thing about me is that you will never take the nature loving and nature revering pagan out of me. its been embedded within me since as long as i can remember. it was my religion when i had none and couldn't understand anyone else's. its why it still is now and why it will always make sense to me when nothing else does and im only using 'pagan' and 'religion' as shorthand for what i really mean because what i really mean is undefinable

[love-of-the-red-star]

That time I got reincarnated as an Aeon

(Series)

Chapter eight: In which the Express celebrates the Day of the Dead with you

Dan Heng’s room was nothing short of simple and surprisingly comfortable.

You’ve been digging around the archives again after your short trip to your favorite desert planet, ready to contribute to the logs that made up Dan Heng’s archive.

He’d allowed you to touch the monitors and type in what you wanted, surprising even Himeko as he was usually rather cautious to let other people(usually March, bless her heart) roam around and touch his things unless they only wanted to read up on things.

You thanked him for that, of course. It was rather sweet of him to allow you to do this.

And so you typed away— made little personal notes on what the culture was like, and people that you also knew as yourself and not Delia. While Dan Heng’s records of Sigonia IV already existed, you were compelled to make your own as well, as a thank you to the people that had been so far hospitable to you.

You haven’t seen little Kakavasha in your visit, so you too wondered how he is now. He’s probably an adult— not so little anymore, growing into the familiar visage of “Aventurine” that you knew in your past life, but you hope it’s not the same horribly tortured man you know.

There was still discrimination, even a bit more than a decade since the freedom of this clan— they still warred with the Katicans here and there, but the disputes were more manageable, less genocidal as the Avgin were more protected by humanitarian groups.

But there wasn’t really any real interest for the cultures of people that had been long discriminated even with your intervention, and if no one was going to do the job of helping them at least preserve a certain view of it, you’d do the job yourself.

Sigonia IV would not be the only place that would stay in the archives for the other future Nameless to find, maybe one day you’d ask for Boothill’s planet, because while it no longer existed, you believed it wasn’t fair for it to die along with him.

You’ve made notes of it, here and there from what little you could get from some books that made mention of it and Boothill’s ramblings. While you could always consult Fuli for the rest of the things, it felt disrespectful towards your friend. You may be an Aeon now, but you knew honor— prying without your friend’s permission felt invasive, you weren’t a human anymore, but you know that kind of stunt wouldn’t be something he would appreciate.

Suddenly, you wondered about the planets you’ve accidentally destroyed, about the lives you had taken without meaning to, and the ones you drove mad beyond your control. Your typing still continued, undeterred by your silent grief as information flowed into the data bank without even a slight inaccuracy despite the difference in how you felt.

You should grieve for the ones who were lost, you thought to yourself. Glancing at the date present in your monitor, you found it was the best time too.

The Day of the Dead.

You’re not even sure if people even celebrated that holiday in this world. Maybe Halloween, but you doubt Dia de los Muertos, as the Latinos would call it, or Araw ng mga patay, as the Filipinos would say, is something widely celebrated in an expanded universe such as this.

Maybe you’d find a world that does celebrate it someday, but for now, maybe you’re going to be alone in giving acknowledgment and silent grief to the ones that had been lost.

You weren’t very close to a religion in your previous life as a human, but now that you thought of the holidays that gave people solace and something to celebrate, you began to feel a little strange that there was no god you could pray to as you were now technically one yourself.

Worshippers weren’t so bad now when you think of it as people laying their problems to a willing ear they can’t see or hear to give them the peace of mind they desired.

You finished up the logs, determined to plant the Avgin’s language inside of it next on the next time you’d touch the monitor. But for now, you had a goal in mind.

——————————————

Some researchers knew you as a grieving Aeon, with your cries reaching the far ends of the cosmos for reasons they sometimes don’t understand.

They observed you once again, mindful to keep their distance from hundreds of light years away as the telescope that found your distant visage caught on the fact that you were crying yet again. But this time, you’re quiet. There was no horrible song of lament that fried wires and caused damage, this one was silent, this one was red.

The liquid that flowed from what seemed to be your eyes was crimson, your lips pressed together as your expression looked forlorn. The telescope saw your hands move, then suddenly, nothing.

You did not want it to see you.

——————————

Setting up an altar was relatively easy, decorated with flowers you’d grabbed from a world away in the expanse of a mountain and a lot of candles you’ve carefully lit.

Lives lost in the fight of freedom, and the lives you took without meaning to. There were too many to count, and you doubt Pompom would like to have the train set on fire.

There were no pictures, no relics, there was simply you, the flowers, the altar, the candles.

Welt had passed by your room and seemingly recognized the decor, quietly joining your side as you started to kneel in front of the altar and mumbled something along the lines of a familiar prayer that he vaguely recognized.

Sometimes Welt forgot you were a human in your previous life. You’ve told him before, when you disclosed things about yourself to him and Himeko.

There was no god that you knew to pray to here, and to make it stranger, you were one yourself. Maybe you were trying to emulate it— old habits maybe, old bits and pieces of your human personality, and reliving specific memories. Or maybe you’re just trying to commemorate those you’ve lost in the way you knew a distant life away.

Welt joined you in your prayer. There is no god to direct his thoughts to, but there’s a strange sense of peace there regardless.

Welt stood up after a few moments while you stayed, lingering before eventually leaving the room.

“Why does it smell like candles burning?” March asked as she encountered him in the hallway.

“It’s for a celebration.” He said. “A day to remember and honor the dead.”

She looked a little confused. “Day to honor the dead?”

“Yes, you can join [Name] in their room if you’d like. It’s not a bad thing, although I can understand why you’d be confused— it’s not widely celebrated after all.” Welt smiled as March slowly nodded.

————————

You weren’t in the room for much longer, opting to head to the kitchen so you could make something to eat. You were there for at least two hours, and everyone seemed to leave you alone to your devices as you made some dishes you remembered from a past life.

Some comfort food, and fluffy bread.

You brought it to the dinner table with a smile as Pompom trailed after you to arrange the bowls and plates for everyone.

Once you were done, you made do of calling everyone in to eat. They don’t really ask why there’s a different feast of savory and sweet food on the table that was clearly not Pompom’s cooking.

Welt looked at you in a certain way that you know that he knew things, and you sent him an appreciative nod as you gestured for everyone to sit down and eat.

“These are some.. recipes that I know from my homeworld.” You began. “These typically aren’t stuff you would get when you’re celebrating the holiday in a very traditional way, but sadly my knowledge of cooking is… kinda limited.” You scratched your temple awkwardly.

“You don’t have to apologize for it.” Himeko said. “It’s the intent that counts.” She smiled, then placed some bread on her plate and stew in her bowl.

“You’re right.” You gave her a small smile of your own.

You failed to spot Dan Heng at the corner of your eye, looking at the bowl of stew in contemplation as Welt’s words sprang up memories of old friends lost in a life he didn’t want to remember.

Maybe he’d allow himself to grieve losses just this once, even if that person who’s lost those people in a distant life away wasn’t him anymore. Maybe for those that Blade had taken from him too in this life.

“Are you okay?” March nudged him gently, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” He said, blinking and snapping out of his thoughts before sinking his spoon into the stew.

Dan Heng found comfort in its flavor.

—————————————

March had taken photos of your room with the altar after dinner, plastering it into her wall with the label “Day of the Dead” in earth colored frames that contrasted the aesthetics of her room. She didn’t mind as much, surprising even herself as she was rather picky about her own decorations.

However, this was something that you shared with them, and that mattered to her. She couldn’t remember her past, and so to have a small piece of someone she knew that saved her was a nice feeling because she didn’t really quite know you. She doubt she ever would actually know you in the way the older crew members do, but that’s okay, that meant she could know you through the new memories she’d create.

She thought of you for a moment and what you’d lost, and she also wondered about the past self she can’t remember. Did she have people that she lost too? Were there people that lost her? Were there people that missed her?

She remembered her conversation with you, a strangely solemn topic for a girl so bubbly like her.

“What do you usually do?” She asked, clearly referring to the little holiday.

“People usually prayed, then offered food and flowers to their dead and all that.” You replied. “I thought it’d be a little nice to honor the people lost along the way. It’s a thing in my old world to not forget the dead.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She found herself saying. “I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“You don’t have to worry, it’s not offensive at all.” You smiled and patted the spot next to you. “It’s a pretty big celebration in my world, and in some countries it’d be a lot livelier than this.” You said as she went to sit next to you.

“They’d wear costumes and make up and bring out live music and everything. The food’s a lot better too I think— there’s too many for me to remember, so the ones I made weren’t the traditional ones people ate during that day.” You explained as she listened attentively.

“That’s okay, it was delicious anyways.” She giggled, shifting slightly to adjust herself before settling in comfortably in a few moments of silence.

“Do you…. Miss your old world? Ah— you don’t have to answer that.” March sputtered, realizing her mistake.

“It’s okay. And yeah… maybe just a bit. I’m not sure how to feel about it to be honest.” You said, glancing at the windows of your room.

She couldn’t see what kind of expression you were making, and so she found herself hugging you. There was something inherently sad about you despite your antics, like you’ve lost too many things.

You returned that embrace.

————————-

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX(HERE), Part X……

Interludes: one, two…

Special chapter: link

Yeeeeee hello y’all!!! Pushing this chapter out in celebration of All Souls Day! :DD

I hope all of you are well! Also I’ll be happy to answer any of your questions regarding the series, so drop any thoughts, don’t be shy <333

[persephone11110]

tummy hurts || j.seresin

tw:grooming,childhood trauma, emotional manipulation, past sexual abuse->child sexual abuse, self victim blaming-victim blaming (not jake) mentions of alcohol, past child neglect, the school system failed, jake calls reader goldie, Y/n hit Jake in chest a couple of times

summary:“Little girls like you aren’t loved”.Your head was laying on the pillow next to him, your naked bodies touching eachother, he loved you…you loved him.

IMPORTANT NOTE: this is a very sensitive topic so please tread carefully also please let me know if there should be more trigger warnings

AN: a fic born after falling into a PLL hole on tik tok and the title comes from Tummy Hurts- Renee Rapp. Also ngl the reason Ive on a break was bcus my fics were going downhill and sad as it is it hard watching other fics blow up and your can’t even make it to double digits within hours.

—

THIS FIC IS ABOUT CHILD SEXUAL ABUSE/ SEXUAL ASSAULT, SELF& VICTIM BLAMING, AND CHILD NEGLECT

—

“Sweetheart?” Jake asked slowly, unsure if his old man hearing was fucking with him. His voice dropped to a lower tone as more rage filled his chest.

Saturday nights were designated for you dine with your husband. A night were you and Jake catch up with each other, his aviation schedule and your college professor schedule was hard to work with.

You hated drinking more than one glass of wine as it always made your tongue loose. Somehow you managed to pour another glass it felt nice to let loose—what didn’t feel nice was your husband knowing how much dignity you didn’t have as a teenager.

“Goldie, you were how old” Jake grabs your hand, gently taking the glass out of your hand. Careful not talk to roughly. He watches as the color drains out of your face.

You were lucky enough to have a history teacher who didn’t give up on his students—especially not you.

Mr.Daniels, the best history teacher there was, he had goods and bad days. But who didn’t?

You and him bonded over the love of historical events. He didn’t tell you to stop talking or, to get the hell out. He would sit there with a warm smile listening to you go on and on about history.

You don’t how many times you’ve tried talking about your interests to mom and dad. And how many times they’ve stared at you with a blank face, or told you to go away.

But Mr. Edward Daniels didn’t. You had the privilege to call him Eddie when it was just the two alone inside the classroom after school hours.

He called you Y/n and you called him Eddie when you laid your mop of brown curls aganist his bare chest.

His blue sheets wrapped your naked body, the hickeys that riddled your stomach and hips.

“I was fifteen Jake”. you sighed dropping your hands into your lap. “He was a freshman history teacher—it was his first year teaching”.

“Y/n Collins”, he dropped a hand onto your shoulder, “I like the way you argue kid”.

“Fifteen, jesus”, Jake rubbed a hand over his face,“How come you never brought this up before sweetheart?”.

Not even a butcher knife could cut through the silence in the room.

Because you loved him. He gave you the love that no one else would.

“Its been over decade Jake…. times were different back then”. You said, chewing at the bottom of your lip. Your bouncy leg betrayed in how confident you sounded in your response.

“Doesn’t matter what decade were in you were a child and he was adult”. He softly glared at you, “His job was to protect and teach you about wars and he couldn’t even do that”.

You leaned back into couch wishing the damn thing would swallow you whole. Why’s Jake trying to make you seem like a victim—you aren’t one you and Eddie were lovers in the past.

Jake sat across from you he had a death grip on the beer bottle. “He loved me Jake, he was the first man to ever give me a chance of being loved”.

Jake felt the need to empty his stomach at the words that came from your mouth. He scooted closer to you, there wasn’t any space between the both of you anymore.“Was it just a one time?”.

You couldn’t look your own husband in the eye.

Jake would know how dirty his wife is.

Your silence was enough for him,“It wasn’t one time Y/n?”. Jake eyebrows furrowed,“Y/n whatever answer you give I hope you know I’d never shame or judge you”.

“We lasted for atleast for over year in half, before the school transfered him out of state”.

How long would It take me to find him and kill him.

Son of a bitch was transferred, he didn’t lose his teaching license.

“Goldie”,Jake calls your name gently—while grabbing your hands into his. “Look at me”.

You curled into yourself—Jake’s mad at you. “ Please don’t yell at me”. your voice hiccuped, you were begging him. You could handle anything but Jake Seresin yelling at you with so much anger and digust filled in his voice.

“Oh I could never blame you baby not now, not ever”. He gently cupped the side of your face, “I need you to understand how this isn’t your fault baby”. He moved around and positioned himself to make your foreheads touch eachother.

“Jake” you mumbled before you shoving your face into his neck. “I’m-”.

Jake shook his head at you he gently pulled from him,“Darlin i don’t wanna you even to think about apologizing to me”, He pressed a kiss into your cheek before speaking again.“The only one who deserves that is you, the adults around you should’ve looked out for you, your parents had one job and it was to just love you”.

You curled into yourself, you didn’t deserve Jakes love.

“Sweetheart i’m sorry for my rant here it just makes me angry that all those adults in your life and no one protected you, a innocent child who willed for love and attention from her parents”. You held onto Jake tightly afraid that in a split second he change his mind and leave you.

Your breathing became shaky and weak the hiccups got worse—your sobs got louder.

You weren’t a victim.

Jake Seresin didn’t know what he was talking about, your husband wasn’t there fifteen years ago.

He’s wrong-.

“Sweetheart”. Jake reached to grab you, “Y/n”.

Your arms become flailing, your were pretty sure your hands and Jakes chest connected atleast once or twice.

“Its okay Y/n, Its okay sweetheart”, Jake was finally able to get a grip on you—pulling your head ontop of his chest. “Shh baby, let it all out”.

“He hurt me so much Jake and nobody cared”, you sobbed.“When I finaly got the courage to tell my parents they looked at me and the first thing that came out their mouth was whore. “Y/n how much of whore do you have to be to sleep with a man well into his early forties?” -.

Jake wiped a tear from your face.“You got someone who cares Y/n, you have someone who loves you just as you are”. Jake sighed, would he be bad person if he took the nearest flight to his wife hometown and he beat old man to a pulp?

Bad man or good husband?, those lines tend to blur when the love of his life gets hurt.

“Baby just say the word me and the daggers can hop the earliest flight and kill a man, while Ice and Mav are our alibi’s”.

Jake catches a small smile breaking through—its small but he’ll take it . “Theres that smile that broke my pool winning streak”,Jake smiles into your shoulder.

“Thank you Jake for loving me, thank you for piecing back my broken pieces”. you murmured quietly, knowing that if you go another octave higher theres a chance that you’ll start crying again.

“Oh baby I should be thanking you, you trusted me with your heart— and Y/n you were always whole you just didn’t feel it”.

My tummy doesn’t hurt anymore.

[anundyingfidelity]

I'M A RUIN — Soldier Boy/Ben (Part V)

Series summary: After the events of the Seven Tower, you present Grace Mallory a new secret project you're working on already to develop a cure to Compound V. The only problem? You need Soldier Boy for that.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader.

Word count: 2.4k.

Warnings for series: set after S3 (spoilers), some OOC!Ben, some depressed!Ben, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, slow-burn, language, PTSD, reader has Compound V (she's no Vought supe tho), Soldier Boy being an usual asshole, reader is a fucking liar.

Warnings on this chapter: some misogyny and shit (you know who), psychiatry stuff, canon gore, blood, heads exploding, and violence?.

Notes: so I'm sorry for any mistakes during the psychyatric process, I go to therapy and take medication myself so that's all I know plus google research. And be aware of the gore descriptions, I tried to do my best I guess lol. Thanks for reading as always!

this fic tags: @k-slla @syrma-sensei @mostlymarvelgirl @cheynovak @drasticemotions @soldirboy @deans-spinster-witch

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

get yourself in the taglist!

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | | Part VIII

GEN MASTERLIST! — SERIES MASTERLIST!

Part V: Blow Your Mind

With a deep breath, you reviewed the symptoms Soldier Boy barely 'gave' during your session. The list was kind of long on the pages and it read:

Always being on guard for any danger, self-destructive behavior, irritability, angry outbursts, panic attacks, feeling emotionally numb, not trusting anyone, not feeling safe, hypervigilance, intrusive thoughts, fatigue, muscle tension, headaches, back pain...

There was a weird silence surrounding both of you, mostly because of his mood and his change in demeanor from a somewhat friendly asshole to an irritated, unbearable jerk. Once you had started with the uncomfortably stupid questions, he felt threatened. Soldier Boy wasn't actually open to talk about his past and the traumatic experiences he had, and that meant it was difficult to get to know how his body and mind were reacting to all the stress and madness he went through in decades, adding those weeks after Billy Butcher had released him from his nightmare.

He was opposed to speaking directly about how he was feeling, but you knew better that Ben speaking out on his symptoms was not going to happen. So you had to ask each one of them and review some his most harsh experiences directly, in order to receive monotonous responses, limited to: 'yes', 'no', 'I don't know,' and finally 'what the fuck is that?' You took them all as an absolute yes.

He was being defensive and you knew better than to miss anything after he almost burned the whole damn building. And with the small but confident experience you had with psychiatry, you concluded that he needed medication and therapy. As soon as fucking possible.

"Yeah, you have PTSD," you said after a moment and your eyes found his unreadable gaze.

He raised his eyebrows with false surprise. He already heard that shit from Hughie before. "And where's the fucking drugs?"

"For that to happen, you have to stop the weed first."

"I've survived bricks of coke mixed with shit you probably don't know about and you want to take the only thing that's keeping me sane? Fan-fucking-tastic!" he fumed, but you didn't flinch. Not a bit.

"Look, my goal is keeping you safe and making you sane because you definitely are not. Not right now. And since I took you out, you'll follow my process, so stop whining."

He chuckled softly with a bitter grimace on his lips as he shook his head softly. "No, that's not gonna happen."

"I don't care if you agree with that, it's settled," you continued, a triumphant smile plastered on your face.

It was true, you didn't give a single shit. He had to be clean and quit any type of drugs to start the medication but most importantly, to use his blood. Eventually. You were more than aware that he wouldn't die easily, that was proved. And it was just a matter of time to get him to your lab to take samples of his blood and run the necessary research on them while you and your team still continued the studies with the Anti-V prototype. You were only hoping that day would arrive soon enough. Two months sober, that was all you needed from him. And the best part? Soldier Boy didn't have to really know the whole details.

Ben, on the other hand, clenched his jaw so tight and closed his eyes for a moment after hearing your statement. You really were a fucking bitch, letting him fall into the abyss of misery and torture that was his own wrecked mind. He considered your intentions internally, once again for the millionth time. You showed up there all dressed up, playing a rich doctor when in reality you were just a fucking slutty brat, just to tell him he had to stop his usual pot, which you also brought happily when he asked you to. And now, you were taking away the only thing that stopped him from ripping your head off. What a great move.

"That's not smart," he insisted.

"Why not? I have you under my own terms."

Ben tilted his head, studying you carefully. "You can't stop me, doll. None of you can. I'm only here because I find it suitable instead of storming out and catching unnecessary attention."

Ben saw you swallow down, he immediately knew it was because you were angry, not scared. You never really seemed scared of him. And you tried to restrain yourself from slapping him right away. "Are you blackmailing me again, Soldier Boy?"

"Is just a warning," he said, nonchalantly. "Wouldn't want to harm such a pretty thing like you, now wouldn't we."

"Oh well, just a reminder I can also turn on the damn gas if needed," you snapped. The arrogant smirk on his lips fell off and it was your turn to smile back. "We all have hidden cards, right?"

Such an arrogant bitch, he thought.

"So, what's your plan?" you switched the subject to avoid going further into what was troubling him.

"What do you mean?"

"Homelander. You want him dead, don't you? You must be getting ready to fight again..."

His body seemed tense once you pushed him to talk, looking away from you to calm a bit. "Isn't that what all of you want?"

"Any sane person would love that, trust me."

Soldier Boy narrowed his eyes. "Well, I can do it. If I wasn't here... You've seen what he's capable of. Jesus, I've seen it," he bitterly chuckled. "And the kid? He's a fucking menace."

"You've been watching the news, I take that—"

"The fuck I do! Wasn't gonna wait for you to keep me up to date of what the fuck is going on!" Ben shouted, his loud voice roaring in your ears despite the distance.

"I don't want you to stress out more than you do," you said, vacillating. "A lot of things take time, such as you adapting to the twenty-first century."

"I'd love to know when that'll happen," Ben insisted. "Or else, I might just break out."

With a tentative smile, you started to write down the report. "I'm so glad you're talking more during our sessions."

You barely said goodbye to Soldier Boy once you finished your daily session. Your head was aching as you walked down the aisle, barely leaving the empty wing of the building behind. Certainly he was hard to handle and was behaving defensively. Before you left he began asking, or better said, bossing you to get him whatever the kid Hughie told him he needed to learn how to use. Shit like the internet and GPS, he said. You told him he was not ready for it yet.

But you'd give him a golden star for trying and insisting so badly, even if he was against eighty percent of your methods. He was up to something, there was no question for that. He was a soldier, more or less like his given supe name. People like him always had a plan, and underneath his facade, there were more plans backed up with words of honor that you had to track sooner or later.

As you made your way to your office, greeting your lab employees and guards, a disturbing sensation grew up inside. Before crossing the doorframe you subtly looked around, focusing for some reason in the security camera, more time than you'd like to admit. You turned again to finally get inside, facing the entry of your office when hurried steps and a voice stopped you from doing so.

"Doctor!"

Once again you turned on your heels to see your assistant, tablet in hand. Those had to be the results.

"Hey," you began. "You have everything?"

Bianca nodded with a straight face and handed you the tablet. You noticed her tight grip and her somehow trembling fingers when you took the device from her hands. You eyed her a little, she remained with her hands intertwined in front of her, her attention seemed lost. With caution, you continued to check the file.

"Is the patient alright?" you asked, reading the profile of the supe who had the not so good luck of being tested previously.

Solaris was his supe name. And he had the ability to manipulate light and matter with his mind. He had taken part in the program for a month now and this was his first test. As always, each supe you had into the program was low-profile. You were thankful of your team keeping these supes under their gaze to offer them some sort of solution, even after all the deaths you tracked from time to time when a test of the Anti-V was run. More than a solution for them, it was a partial contribution to find it.

You quickly scanned the updated file that Bianca completed for you. He was doing better than projected, his powers were still gone with a forecast of probably coming back within a couple of hours. A deep breath left your lips. Now that was an improvement. It was the first time anything like that happened on any tests. The supe survived, he was weak but the powers were off for a bit. It was a small step closer to your goal. Just a little bit more maybe and it could be done, finally...

"He's resting right now," Bianca interrupted your thoughts. Your eyes were back on her face.

"This is great news, thank you. I trust he's doing okay."

She nodded. "He is."

"Great, I guess I'll see him in a couple of hours," you said about entering your office.

"Wait!" Bianca suddenly closed the little space between both of you. She breathed heavily before stuttering words out. "I, I have- I'm sorry..."

"Are you okay?" you inquired, knowing her behavior was unusual. She swallowed down, turning her gaze away, her hands shaking. Was she sick? "Bianca, what's wrong?"

You tried to reach her cheek with your hand, but she stepped back abruptly, looking at you like if you were a ghost with her eyes red and wet, and a fine layer of sweat adorning her skin.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I'm so sorry," she sobbed.

You walked towards her, worried about what was going on but every step you took, she also gave it back.

"Bianca, what's happening?"

Her back bumped the wall of your office, and finally, she started to cry. "I'm sorry. You have to go, please..."

Your heart started pounding heavily on your chest. "What—"

"Go now! Please... Please don't hurt me..."

"I'm not going to hurt you, Bianca," you whispered, trying to comfort her.

But she continued crying and mumbled incoherent words with eyes shut, while hot tears streamed down her face. She choked on her sobs as she pleaded for her life. But you didn't understand why. You tried to soothe her, reaching her shoulder with your free hand.

And when you placed your palm on her, everything became red. It all happened in seconds. Ropes of warm blood covered your face in an instant. A loud gasp fell from your throat. You felt every drop mixed with brains on the skin of your face, on your neck, and sliding down the skin under your blouse. It was shocking and equally disgusting. And your eyes remained shut, not brave enough to move or see the horrid picture in front of you.

Your palm was still on her shoulder when the remains of her body fell to the ground with a thud. Your trembling hand wiped some blood from your face to open your eyes anew. The wall was painted with her, as much as you were, and it left a trail of blood from where her corpse slid to the floor. Her head long fucking gone.

"Shit."

Shit. Fucking shit. Was it him? It had to be him. There was no reason to doubt it. It was him. And he complied with his promise. Had Homelander been controlling Bianca? Was she the only one? No. There had to be something more. Homelander wasn't easy and he wasn't merciful with anyone. You had to stop him and get Soldier Boy out of the building. Now.

You tried to control yourself as best as you could, walking away to reach anyone, crossing a corner on the hallway, where a guard was casually passing by.

He stopped on his tracks at your sight, covered in blood and meat. "Doctor?"

"I need your help," you whispered.

He nodded quickly and you began explaining with a low, shaky voice.

"I don't know what happened, my assistant was right there with me when— Fuck!"

You walked some inches away when his head exploded, just like Bianca's did. Luckily, or not, this time was inside his helmet. All the red brains and blood were catched by it. Still, you wanted to throw up right fucking there. The remains of his body fell to the floor with a loud sound.

With a deep breath you continued your way, finding guards, lab assistants and agents. If they were alive, their heads popped into your sight. And if it was your somehow lucky moment of the day, you just found their headless corpses lying on the ground, creating a pool of blood you tried to avoid.

The only thing on your mind was taking Ben out of the building. The alarm had been turned on and the annoying sound of it was driving you crazy. Your head ached more than ever as you made your way to Soldier Boy for the second fucking time during the day.

Since there was no time to open the heavy door properly, you used a force field around the metal, moving the door until it slipped enough to let you in. You found him standing in the middle of the room. Eyes dark and alert, with fists and frame ready to fight. He wrinkled his nose once you entered the place.

"What the fuck's going on?" Ben growled, observing your blood covered face.

"We need to go, now. Take your clothes off."

He blinked, taken aback. Before he answered you continued with an explanation.

"I'll turn you invisible, but can't turn your clothes," you ordered, looking in the closet for a sports bag you knew was inside and picking a couple of shirts, pants and boxers as quickly as time allowed you to. Once finished, you turned to Ben again.

"Mind to fucking clarify?" he insisted. You sighed, closing your eyes for a moment.

"Look, I'll tell you everything once we're out," you turned one of your hands invisible for him to see.

Ben snorted with laughter. How ironic, he thought.

"No fucking way."

"Strip. We're leaving."

[luvhughes43]

say yes to heaven (track one) | tz11 x reader

cruel world [masterlist]🕊

word count: 2.1k

Rolling Stone

Date: June 28th, 2023

Growing up, Yn Ln always dreamt that she would become a singer. Her inspirations were figures well beyond her years, taking inspiration from the likes of great artists from decades past. Her melancholic style became instantly notable when she first hit the scene a few short weeks ago with her debut single, video games. Of course, none of her earlier works can be found on streaming services anymore, but her style has remained consistent over the years as she now releases her debut album in 2023. 

interviewer: Yn, your album “Cruel World” has become an instant cult classic for music reviewers and fans alike. But what everyone really wants to know is what, and who, inspired you?

Yn laughs lightly, rubbing her palms on her jeans before she starts talking.

Yn Ln: It was [pause].. it was a long process. I was inspired by my real life [another pause] and my friends' lives. A lot of things went into creating the album. I’ve spent years working on it. 

interviewer: Are you aware of the rumours surrounding the album? That every song is about an ex of yours? Trevor I think his name is?

Yn tenses briefly at the mention of her ex and swipes her palms against her jeans once more.  

Yn Ln: Like I said, the album was inspired by things I've gone through. I don’t feel the need to put names to songs.

She laughs lightly trying to ease the tension of the room.

Interviewer: Well, regardless, Cruel World is an amazing album.

Yn smiled politely, taking a sip of her coffee.

when yn hughes first laid her eyes on trevor zegras, she felt a spark. when she went to bed that night she didn’t dream about her favourite characters, or books, she didn’t even create perfect little scenarios. no, she fell asleep to thoughts of her brothers best friend. his soft hair, the way he glided the puck across the ice, his smile and enthusiasm when his team did well… yn hughes was doomed from the start. 

‘cause ive got my mind on you

i’ve got my mind on you

you didn't actually meet trevor face to face till a week after first seeing him. your twin, Jack, had invited him and a few other friends over to the house for the day. you laid in bed, eyes closed listening to all the commotion below before you decided to go downstairs and greet everyone. 

when you finally made your way to the group, you stood awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs. the wood chilly as you watched your brother and his friends play fight. 

“I’m trevor!” one of the boys beamed as he stepped away from the group of rowdy boys. 

you smiled softly in response as trevor ruffled his hair. “i’m yn-”

“jacks twin! right, i've heard so much about you! you know, i always wondered if it was true that twins had like, intuition? Is that a thing?” trevor rambled, his words fast and inquisitive, a habit which presented itself quite frequently. 

you laughed, nodding in the small breaks of trevors words as he kept talking about twins and their behaviours he had apparently heard about. 

when he finally stopped his speech, yn answered his first of many questions. “i mean i dont know about intuition but…” 

“trev!” jack called, “get over here, stop talking to yn!”. he was shaking an xbox controller, gesturing for trevor to come join their group of friends who were lounging on the sofa ready to play. 

“but he always seems to pick up on when i'm having a good time” you smiled cheekily. 

trevors face burned red and he rubbed at his neck absentmindedly as he looked you up and down. you watched his eyes trail, and you had never felt so giddy in all of your life. butterflies fluttered in your stomach until trevor broke away from you. 

“Ill uh- ill.. i’ll see you around,” trevor finished lamely, clearly feeling the same giddiness you felt as he sharply turned away from you and sat next to your brother. you stood in your spot for another second, watching as trevor tried to hide his smile from your brother. 

the house was quiet as you made your way into your kitchen for a glass of water. you had fallen after working on some music and you woke up dazed and a little confused.

you open the fridge, the little light partially illuminating the kitchen. a figure moves out of the darkness causing you to jump and let out a little shriek. 

your breathing speeds up, one of your hand coming to rest over your mouth as trevor steps into the light of the fridge. 

“Its just me!” trevor says, voice hoarse with sleep. he lays a had on your shoulder, watching you with wide eyes as you try to calm yourself down.

“what are you doing here?” you asked breathlessly as your breathing started to slow. “uh your parents let me and a few other guys stay over tonight” trevor explained, hand still resting on your shoulder.

“what? when?” trevors hand falls from your shoulders and moves to brush through his hair. 

“after dinner. you were up in your room playing… the guitar was it? It sounded really nice”

“thanks…” your face heated and you were so glad that you hadn't decided to turn the kitchen light on. 

“what were you working on anyway?” trevor changed the subject as he opened the fridge and pulled out a jug of milk.

your nose crinkled as he grabbed his discarded cup and poured himself a glass. “oh you know,” you shrugged your shoulders. you didn’t know why you did it but you never wanted to talk about your music. with all your brother's talents and successes, you felt that you choosing music was an embarrassment to your family even though you knew at heart that it wasn’t true. 

trevor must have picked up on your hesitancy so he shrugged, bringing his glass of milk to his lips as he took another swig. 

“milk?” you questioned, and trevor held the glass out for you to take.

“want some?” he asked, tilting the glass towards you.

“definitely not”

“it makes your bones strong and stuff, you should try it” 

“Trevor i've drank milk before,” you say sarcastically.  

“well yeah but like, you know what i mean” 

you rolled your eyes playfully, “okay fine give me the glass,” you reached your hand out and trevor passed his cup to you. you peered into the cup.

“its just milk it's not gonna hurt you” trevor laughed as he leaned back against the kitchen counter. 

you tentatively took a sip and when you finished you passed the glass back to trevor. 

“how was it?” “gross”

“yeah okay,” trevor rolled his eyes, leaning his head back as he finished the rest of the glass. 

you reached past trevors shoulder, grabbing a glass to fill with water. 

“well, im going to go to bed,” trevor nods to you as he sets his now empty glass in the sink. 

“goodnight,” you respond as you fill your glass.

“yah night,” trevor walks out of the kitchen and you watch him leave.

what the hell was that? you whisper to yourself, downing the rest of your water before heading to bed yourself. 

the next few weeks followed similarly. you and trevor would have these weird random moments, and you would both awkwardly smile at each other and move on with your days. that was until the boys decided to have a bonfire now that your parents were out of town to celebrate the start of the summer. 

you felt the warm heat of the fire on your legs as you sat near the pit with your friend. you watched absentmindedly as trevor talked to his friends before you felt the weight of your friend's hand on your shoulder. 

“you know yn, if you want him that badly then…” you whipped your head around at your friends words.

“what?” your eyes were wide in shock. you hadn’t told anybody about your growing feelings for trevor. 

“I’m just saying you’re not being really secretive…”

“he's my brother's best friend” you shrugged, your eyes drifting from your friend and back to the boy in question. He was nursing a beer he had somehow managed to sneak past his own parents.

“okay… what does that have to do with anything? hes hot” your friend shrugs. 

“hes also jacks teammate it just, it wouldn't work out the way i’d want it to” you expressed your reasons on why you couldn't date trevor and it sounded more ridiculous each time. you knew you wanted to be with him, and honestly, jack wasn't what you were worried about. you were more worried of the possible rejection. sure you and trevor had spent time together and talked. but majority of that time was when the two of you were alone. what if trevor doesn't want anything more than the private meetups? 

“how do you want it to work out?”

you fiddled with your hands, ignoring your friends question.

“he clearly likes you though, if that's what you're worried about” you hummed in response, lazily turning your head to look at trevor again. He smiled at you when he caught you looking. you didn't have the energy to look away. you knew then that you'd rather be rejected then not with him at all. 

let the fear you have fall way

i’ve got my eye on you

i’ve got my eye on you

say yes to heaven

say yes to me

“trev!” you hear jack call from across the fire pit, “can you go get us more marshmallows?” the boy easily agrees as he stands up from his lawn chair and begins to make his way inside. 

“Yn im thirsty!” your friend quickly says, pushing you up and off your seat. “can you get me a root beer?” she pleads, causing your brothers and his friends to shift their attention to the two of you. you quickly catch on to what she's doing, and you nod with enthusiasm. 

“does anyone else want something?” you ask the group as you slowly back away. Jack asks for water, and you nod before following Trevor into your house. 

the house was silent as the two of you worked your way around the kitchen. just as trevor was about to make his way back outside again, you stopped him. your hand tugged on his wrist and he was turning back to face you.

“trevor,” you breathed out, a little shocked at your sudden courage.

“yn,” he whispered back. you could hear the faint sound of the fire crackling and everyone's laughter out in the backyard.

it felt magnetic, the pull that brought your lips up to meet his. the kiss was soft and innocent. something that could easily be explained away as a spur of the moment thing. you refused to let it.

“yn,” trevor whispered again, this time painfully.

“trevor,” you were hopeful. 

he kissed you again, one of his hands coming down to settle on your waist as your arm wrapped itself around his neck. 

when you both pulled apart, trevor rested his forehead against yours, his breath slowing down as you both relaxed. 

“we cant do this,” trevor said almost regretfully as his head turned at the sound of your brothers loud voice teasing cole. 

“we can do whatever we want” you replied, ignoring all the background noise.

“jacks your twin. he's my teammate. my best friend. i can't just-”

“say yes to me” you blurted and your face heated up instantly. 

“It's not that easy-”

“yes it is. trevor just say yes to me and we can figure out what to do with jack later,” 

trevor seemed unsure of what to say for the first time. 

“What's taking you so long! damn!” jacks voice pops the bubble you and trevor had built not even a minute earlier. 

“sorry i couldn't find the marshmallows,” trevor mumbles, stepping away from you and towards your brother. 

“why didn’t you help hin y/n? don't be rude” your brothers voice seemed to pierce the quiet of the kitchen.

“he didn’t want me to help,” you replied quietly, reaching behind you for the water bottle jack had asked for earlier. 

“well that was stupid. she literally lives here z she knows where everything is,” jack responded cluelessly.

“Yeah, right, my bad” trevor nodded along with his words as he watched jack reach into a corner cabinet to retrieve a bag of marshmallows. 

I’ll put my red dress on, get it on

and if you fight, i’ll fight

it doesn’t matter, now its all gone

i got my mind on you

ynhughes

liked by jackhughes, trevorzegras, yourbff, and others

ynhughes ❤️

view all comments

yourbff hottest bff ever🤤

ynhughes love u

jackhughes “❤️”

ynhughes if u dont leave me alone…

[insta dms]

trevorzegras: I’m sorry about that night

trevorzegras: I just don't want jack mad at me yk? I do really like you and I shouldn't have just left things like that

ynhughes: what are you trying to say?

trevorzegras: That i'm saying yes to you

trevorzegras: and that i’m sorry

present day

ynhughes

liked by lhughes_06, colecaufield, yourbff, and others

ynhughes say yes to heaven, mv out now❤️ i love u all so much

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yourbff im crying real tears i love you so so much

ynhughes i love u more forever

fan01 just listened to say yes to heaven for the first time and it's soo beautiful

fan02 love you so much yn

liked by ynhughes

lhughes_06 very cool

[gatheringbones]

wickie stamps, from I am your Frankenstein, from leatherfolk: radical sex, people, politics and practice, edited by mark thompson, 1991

[“When I, in a scene, tediously lay out my implements, I honor my mother's labors and my brother's sacrifice. After cutting my beloved, I methodically wipe up her spilled blood, bind her wounds, and clean the scalpel. Then I wipe down the room. I, too, drop to my knees between her widespread legs and worship her femininity. Only then do the doors to this sacrificial space slowly close. Then I lift my head and gaze with bleary visions into the eyes of my beloved, which are trusted beacons. I am left with a sadness for my brother, who, unlike my beloved, had to let his blood alone. But I am grateful that I, unlike my momma, am no longer hostage to my brother's masculinity or his homicidal/ suicidal whims. Yet as my watering mouth and cunt attest, I have retrieved this cherished womanly act from the undeclared war zone called my past.

My S/ M scenes are the grappling hooks that dredge up these matriarchal memories. When I place a switchblade at my beloved's neck as she cowers at my knee with dripping cunt, I remember myself at age seven, standing at the top of an endless stairway. At the bottom of the stairs is my oldest sister with her boot on my daddy's chest. She's pinned his bourbon- soaked body to the floor. In her upraised hands, arched high above her head, glistens a machete. Its fierceness is intensified by her rage. Next to her, less sure and looking to her older sister for guidance, stands another sister, who, with candelabra held high over her head, hesitantly mimics her older sibling's stance. Both of my sisters have felled the monster called my daddy.

But powerful women have not always been the center of my life. Although my first taste of lesbianism was in the children's home, the first three decades of my life were exclusively heterosexual. My boyfriends ran the gamut of wealthy, overeducated bastards to intriguing but dangerous ex- cons. During these years, the horrors of addiction ate away at my life. But, as in my childhood, there were hints of my While involved with my old man the heroin addict, I enjoyed the scheming, the hustling, and the tension as we waited to cop drugs. Although I was never an IV drug user, I enjoyed the ritual of preparing his works, tying him off, and, once he'd hit a vein, meditating on the blood that slowly swirled into his syringe. Later, while involved with another man, I loved hanging out with him in pool halls while he hustled customers or strutting down the street on his arm dressed in my suede hot pants, high- heeled, over- the- knee boots, and short leather jackets.

It was not until I was thirty that I took my first woman lover. Being someone who would, in order to survive, merge with whatever scene I had to, I melded into her life of brunches, women's concerts, and softball. Because I had stopped using drugs and booze, this relationship was the most stable I ever had. For the first time in my life, with the exception of my siblings, I met strong, independent women.

But, inadvertently, I had walked away from the roots of my eroticism- roots that were intricately spliced into a complicated past. Despite the freedom that I immediately gleaned from claiming my lesbianism, my sexual lust dissipated, just as it had in my heterosexual relationships. Like twenty years earlier, I feared that I would have to sit before a sexologist who would convince me I was frigid.

But this time, I fought back against those inner voices that said there was something wrong with me. The erotic hunger I had felt when I watched my mother's ritual, wore men's clothes, or witnessed my sister's fighting back became familiar again. I, who could not even say the word sex or even leave the lights on in bed, began marching into women's bookstores and picking up lesbian erotic magazines. I rented porno graphic videos. During sex, I started wearing leather and integrating mild bondage and domination. I threw out my milquetoast wardrobe and wore only jeans, leather jackets. and boots. I chopped off my hair. I got tattoos. I came to look like what I had become: a lesbian sadomasochist.”]

[anjeriouskharne]

Hey. I know I just posted recently, but this is less something new and more old things brought back up. For the last year or two Ive been pushing myself aside, even with therapy, it was about trauma, my problems, not the things I did in wonder and darkness. I was 11 or 12 when I first remember wondering what it would be like to be a girl. What it might be like to have their long hair and graceful stride. As I grew, so did those thoughts. What would it be like to have tits? Or the parts below the belt. I was always too scared to ask, but I assumed this was something all boys went through, I had the same thoughts about robots, trains, dinosaurs, and wolves. I remember wanting to feel closer to a woman, to know more, so one day I over stretched the crap out of a pair of socks and turned them into temp, poor quality knee highs. I only remember that, cause now Im wearing real, proper knee highs as I tyoe this, and it resurfaces the memory. I remember the itch, the constant pulling to keep the socks stretched, but also the feelings I felt that I couldnt process at that age. I enjoyed it, not cause it was taboo, but because it was me finally feeling closer. Ive hated my face and body for as long as I can remember. All Ive ever liked is my hair. I thought this was, again, a common male issue, and asked men. They all agreed, and I assumed that was how it was. Until I finally met someone who was FTM in HS. This man taught me that it wasnt all one way or another. Hes like a fuckin dad in a Hawaiian shirt, but still 4 foot nothin and taking a computer class in HS. Then I met my current friend group. Theres a MTF there who clocked me, and alongside being brought into a family who looked at me one day and said, "you're here often enough, youre apart of the family" got my a trans brother and 2 queer sisters. They all helped point it out, and I ran. I had bigger issues to address, but now? Now I can take a moment and look, and theres so much evidence if this was a murder trial Id be guilty ten times over. Im almost crying seeing how blind I was. This hasnt been rushed and new, this has been slowly crafted for almost a fucking decade. Im never going back. I was going to try this and see, but no, these socks feel right, these words feel right. Not just right. They feel... me. I changed my name 7 or 8 months ago, to escape my past, and that name was there the moment I asked myself. It was front of the line, didnt need to think, it was just there and it fit like nothing else. I am taking steps, and each step opens another door to the past to see what I tried all those years ago, how I wish I couldve known, and how there is no more stopping me. I am a force unchained, and I shall become of clay, reshaped by my own hands and will into what Ive buried so deep inside me from fear and doubt and sorrow and depression and desperation and ignorance. NO MORE SHADOWS WITHIN ME. I WILL BEAR MYSELF TO THE LIGHT AND BE FUCKING GLORIOUS!

[andydrysdalerogers]

Yours Submissively ~ Dreams

Steve Rogers X OFC Isabella Davis

Summary: Five Years after the events of Civil War, Steve Rogers has moved on from avenging and has started his own business, Grant Inc. He has a secret that would turn his world upside down. And he's good at keep that secret. Until he meets the woman with violet eyes that could bring him to his knees. Now his mission is to make her, his. But she is the key that could bring the world into balance... or chaos.

And she has no idea.

Series Warnings: slow burn at the beginning, smut, angst, sexual themes of BDSM, dom/sub dynamics, kidnapping, loss of virginity, (and a bunch of others that will come up)

A/N: Its the penultimate chapter and I'm not ready to say goodbye to Steve and Belle. If you enjoyed this ride as much as I have, let me know.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Banners by me!

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Previous: Nacita

Series Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist

It was bright.  So bright. Why is the room so bright, she thought. Belle lifted her hand to cover her eyes.  Wait, her arm didn’t smart from the IVs.  She looked down to see her arms cleared and her belly gone. “No!” She grasped at her flat stomach. She sat up and cried. This has to be a nightmare. No, no, I can’t leave them. She looked around for an exit.  She had to go back.  She found the door, but it was locked.  She looked for a window, but the room had none.  Then she noticed the posters and photos.  She was back in her childhood room. This is where she would spend eternity.  Trapped in a room she hadn’t been in, in almost a decade.  She curled up, knees to chest, arms wrapped around and began to cry.  She sobbed for what felt like hours. She died and left her babies. Her family.  Her Steve. 

“You are alive, don’t worry.”  

Belle couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She lifted her head. “Daddy?” 

“Hi, my sweet girl.”  Phil Coulson stood in front of her. “You look so grown-up Belle.”  

“Daddy,” she breathed.  She ran into his arms and Phil held his daughter tight. He could feel the sobs racking her body.  “I’m here my girl.  My sweet Belle.”  

Belle searched his eyes. “Daddy, how, why?” 

“You’re asleep my Belle.  You’re dreaming but I needed to see you.” He held her back to look her over. “Look at you. I’m so proud of the woman you have become Belle.”  

She chewed her lip.  The man in front of her knew about her past. “Even though I’m HYDRA?”  

Phil shook his head.  “Isabella, you have never been HYDRA. I don’t know why you think that.”  

“Because the Avengers had to assemble because of me and my heritage.”  

“No, they assembled because you are a family.  And family will always be there for you.”  Phil cupped his daughter’s cheek.  “You are their family.  And you have never been HYDRA.  Your parents sacrificed their lives to make sure that never happened.  I only took over what they started.”  

Belle absorbed his words.  She had never been HYDRA.  She knew that deep down but to hear him confirm it made it feel so real.  “Oh daddy, I’ve missed you.”  

“I’ve missed you too.”  

“You gave me the best life.”  

“I’m glad.  Even if I had to leave you earlier than I wanted. I’m so proud of you and everything you have accomplished.  I’m just sad I can’t be there, cheering you on.  Didn’t get to walk you down the aisle or meet my grandchildren.” His voice cracked a little at the mention of her past.   

“I wish you were there too.”  

“They are great though, Jamie and Lucy.  Beautiful and perfect.”  

“You saw them.”  

“I check in every once in a while.  Steve is going to be a great father.”  

“And are you ok?  With Steve I mean.”  

“If I had to pick the perfect man for you, he is the standard.  He treats you good, right?” 

“Like a queen.”  

“Good because you deserve it.  He really is everything I ever wanted for you.  But tell him something from me.”  She nodded.  “Tell him to let the shield go.  Its time. He’s a father now.  He doesn’t need to be Captain America anymore.”  

“He told me he would only be Captain America if his love was threatened.”  

“But I have a feeling that you and your children will be very safe with him.”  

After a few minutes of just holding his daughter, Phil cleared his throat.  “I’m sorry Belle, but it’s time for me to go.”  

“No, I don’t want you leave. Please don’t leave me again.”  

“Oh, baby girl, I know but I am always here with you.”  He pointed to her heart, “I’m right there.  Always have been.  I never left. You’re gonna be ok. But they need you.  My grandchildren need you.”  

Belle hugged her father tighter.  “I love you daddy.”  

Phil held on to her.  “I love you too my Belle.”  

The world started to blur and fade. Belle starts to hear cooing and a baby crying and she blinks to see Steve and Bucky cradling little bundles. She smiles but stays quiet as she hears the love of her life coo at the pink bundle, while Bucky made faces to a blue bundle.  

“You ain’t gonna tell me his name, punk?” 

“No, jerk, Belle wanted to say that herself. Isn’t that right Princess?” he cooed to the bundle of pink.  

“God, she looks just like her mama and he looks just like you, poor kid,” Bucky teased.  

Before Steve could say anything, they hear, “I think his daddy is handsome.”  

Steve turns around to see Belle smiling weakly at him. “Hi sweet pea.” He breathes a sigh of relief. He walked over and sat in the chair next to her but leaned over and kissed her forehead.  “You really need to stop doing that my love.”  

“What happened?” 

Steve frowned.  “The doctors nicked a blood vessel during the operation. It wasn’t a major artery, but it was enough blood for you to lose consciousness.  They got it under control, and they had to do a couple of transfusions but Dr. Lee said you would make a full recovery.”  

“How long?” 

“Two days.  You were moving and muttering so they had to sedate you.  But I’ve been here this whole time, along with Bucky and we’ve been taking care of the twins.  They are perfect.”  

“My babies,” she whispered.  She looked down at the bundle in his hands.  “My little girl.”  

“As soon as the doctors say its ok, you can hold them,” Steve explained.  “But for now,” he tilted the bundle so she could see her daughter, all pink and soft, with a head of blonde hair. She yawned when she was jostled and she opened her eyes, violet looking back at her momma.  

“Lucy,” she breathed.  Steve moved her so Belle could brush her lips onto her daughter’s forehead. “She smells so good.  She’s beautiful.”  

“Just like her momma,” Bucky said coming over with another bundle. “Got someone else who wants to meet you.”  

“Hi Bucky,” she giggled. Bucky held up the other bundle to get a glance at her son.  His eyes were already open and looking around.   His dark curls on his head were a beautiful contrast to the ocean blues that adorned his face. “My baby boy.  So handsome.”  

The doctor walked in just as she gave her son a kiss.  “Welcome back Mrs. Rogers.” 

“Dr. Lee, hi.”  

“I’m happy to see you awake.  I assume your husband told you what happened.”  Steve nodded as he rocked his new princess in his arms. “I’m so sorry it happened, really.”  

“I don’t want to talk about it.  I want to hold my children.” Belle glared at the woman who almost took her from her family.  

“Of course.  As long as Mr. Rogers can help, it should be fine.  I’ll be back to check on you.  The pediatrician Dr. Carr will be by in a few moments to do a check up on the twins.”  The woman moved to leave.  “Once again, I do apologize for everything.” She left and Belle rolled her eyes.  

“I want a different doctor,” she pouted.  Steve kissed her temple but before he could respond, Bucky interrupted.  

“Really Belle?” Bucky rolled his eyes. “She saved your life and the twins, and you want to be a brat.”  

“As soon as I can, I’m going to tell Ava that you love brussels sprouts.” Belle narrowed her eyes.  

“You wouldn’t.”  Bucky looked pain.  “Steve?” 

“Oh no.  You leave me out of this. Love, we will talk about this later, ok?” 

She nodded.  “Can I hold a baby now?” 

Steve smiled softly.  “Of course.” He put Lucy in her bassinet and helped Belle sit up gently.  He picked up his girl again with a kiss to her head. Belle opened her arms and Steve laid Lucy in her arms, taking a seat to help hold Lucy’s head.  

Belle looked at her daughter. “Hi princess.” Lucy obligated by opening her eyes.  “Bucky, this is Lucy Antonia Rogers, our princess.”  

Bucky smiled as he cradled the boy.  “And this little punk?” 

Belle smirked.  “James Phillip Rogers. Jamie.” She watched his eyes widen.  “Do not drop that baby.”  

“Jamie,” he breathed.  He looked down.  “Hi Jamie.” He looked back at his best friends.  “I’m honored.”  

“You should be jerk.” Steve quirked a smile. “You are the fourth most important person in my life, after these three. Its why you’re their godfather.”  

“I am?”  Belle could see Bucky’s eyes glass over. She nodded and Bucky looked back at his godson. He stared at his downy hair and blue eyes.  “This kid is gonna get all the ladies.”  

“Yeah, well, this little girl will have a lot of callers as well.”  

“Over my dead body,” Steve replied.  “She mentions a boy I’m locking her up.”  Bucky nodded his head in approval.  

“We shall see little one,” Belle said to her daughter.  

Belle was finally sent home after week in the hospital. As Bucky drove from the hospital with Steve in the front seat and Belle in the back with the twins, she couldn’t help but feel like it was all surreal. They had made it.  Past all of the lies, the danger, her heritage, his history.  They could finally be the family they were meant to be.  

All of the Avengers, her family, were waiting for to arrive, with Steve and Bucky each holding a carrier.  Everyone came to greet Belle until finally Tony cracked.  “I have to know names.”  

Belle looked blankly at Steve.  “Are we supposed to give them names?” 

“I thought they picked them themselves,” he deadpanned right back to her.  

“Its what I did as soon as I was old enough,” Belle fake whispered.  

“Please tell me that you’re not serious,” Tony looked between Belle and Steve.  

“Ok, not serious,” Belle smirked as Tony let out his breath and the rest of group laughed.  “Everyone, this is James Phillip and this is Lucy Antonia.”  

“Antonia?” Tony choked.  

“Yeah, we honored my dad and I wanted to honor the other.”  Belle’s eyes shined as she picked up Lucy to hand her to Tony.  

Tony cradled the little girl.  “Hi Lucy girl, I’m Uncle Tony.”  

As Bucky introduced his god son to everyone, Steve looped his arms around his girl.  “Are you happy my love?” 

Belle looked around, taking in her family and smiled.  

“Yes, sir.”  

Three months later… 

Please don’t wake up… just stay sleeping, Belle thought as she closed the door to the nursery.  She checked the video on her phone and the twins didn’t move.  She did a little dance as Steve came around the corner.  

“Are they asleep?” He whispered 

“At the same time,” she whispered. 

Steve quickly grabbed his wife and lifted her by her thighs, forcing her legs around his waist.  “What would you like to do first love?” 

“A bath. I want a bath so bad.”  

“Ok, bath it is.” Steve gave her a sweet kiss and carried her to their bathroom.  He sat her on the counter and started to get it ready for her.  

“Oh, I should mention that the bath has to have you in it as well,” she said with a cheeky smiled.  

Steve turned to look at her.  “I think that could be arranged sweet pea,” he said with a wink.  

They settled into their bath with the monitor close by.  Steve cradled his girl in his arms, running a soft sponge over her, pressing kisses when he could. “So beautiful,” he whispered.  

“Mmhmmm,” she groaned quietly.  “Feels so good Stevie.”  

“Better or worse?” as he let a hand trail down her body and in between her legs, softly stroking the outside of her folds. Her hips jerked up, rippling the water.  “Easy, baby, I know it’s been a while, so I’ll go slow.” He slipped a finger in, and she cried out.  

“Amore,” she whined.  

“Let me take care of you princess,” he whispered in her ear.  “I’ve missed you, my love.  So warm, so tight, so wet.”  He stroked her steady and firm, wanting to warm her up.  

“God, feels so good.” Belle could feel the fire starting to build in her body.  They hadn’t connected like this since before the twins.  She had needed to heal, then the twins needed them more.  But finally, finally, they were back to being husband and wife, Amore and Sweet Pea, Steve and Belle.  

“Tell me princess, tell me what you want Isabella,” Steve drew out her name with every syllable.  

“I want… I want to cum, Steve, please, sir.” Her body was vibrating with every stroke.  

Steve groaned when he heard his title that she used.  It had been a few months since they played.  He had been gentle since she was still in the early stages of her pregnancy.  He grew harder remembering she barely swollen belly and tits. He moved his wrist a little faster, feeling her start to tighten around his finger.  He slid in another and listened to her hitch her breath. He then slowed, chuckling at her huffs of frustration.  “First time I get you all to myself in months, sweet pea. Wanna make it last.”  

“Stevie, please. Been… so… long…” she moaned as he sped up. Steve curled his finger twice before she detonated around his fingers. Her back arched against him as she let the heat flow through every nerve point in her body.  She had misses this, his power over her. 

As soon as he brought her back to Earth, he pulled the water and lifted her into his arms. He took them back to their martial bed and laid her gently down. “I love you. So much. Happy anniversary.”  

“Happy anniversary amore mio.”  

NEXT

Taglist:

@patzammit

@texmexdarling

@slutforchrisjamalevans

@firephotogrl74

@tinkerbelle67

@before-we-get-started

@bunnyforhim

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@sunnyhummingbee

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@kmc1989

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@saucy-sassy-sparkly

[spurgie-cousin]

one part of adhd that i really hate is just knowing there's people out there that think of you as an unreliable or careless person 😕 like how i perceive time and the passing of time has been an issue since i was a kid, i was always chronically late to things (and still am sometimes) so a lot of ppl i know have running jokes about that, but some of them like my family definitely don't understand the connection bt the two things so i know there's sometimes actual anger and frustration behind the jokes. and that they just probably think im a selfish person who doesn't care about other people's time when in reality ive bawled in my car on the way to an event i was supposed to be at 20 mins ago so many times bc i felt like i tried so hard not to do that and just something went wrong, again.

i also lose stuff constantly and throughout my life i've lost some pretty important things, which not only makes me feel awful but makes people who don't understand just assume i'm a careless moron who doesn't understand the value of things when literally nothing could be further from the truth bc i went through a period of being broke as shit for years....so if anything i really feel like i place too much value on some things bc subconsciously I'm worried that if something happens to it I won't be able to fix or replace it. if I didn't live with someone else who kept me in check I'm almost certain there are things I'd like, hoard.

idk sometimes i try to explain the connection to these kinds of things to people and you can just see it in their face that they don't really believe you and might think you're just trying to come up with excuses. and it makes me want to be so defensive bc i try sooooooo hard all the time and it's so upsetting when you're doing that and STILL having these issues‼️ like the fight to convince myself that I'm trying to cope with a disorder and I'm not inherently just bad and dumb after actually believing that for nearly 3 decades is an every day uphill battle so 🥲 to know a lot of people would agree with my past self and can't understand that is hard

[foxfirexo]

my minecraft base on a server with a couple ppl; i am very proud of how it is turning out, the vibes are cozy and it has very organically expanded over time :3

tiny bit of story feel free to ignore and just scroll past but i feel like oversharing so fuck u (kindly <3)

ive always been pretty creative even if i spent the last decade or so telling myself i wasnt. when i was little it was lego, when i got older it was minecraft (among other things)

but being an audhd transgirl growing up in a very conservative southern baptist household (and as a PK and MK at that ;-;) and whose very existence was just fundamentally at odds with the teachings i was raised, i felt a lot of lot of pressure to suppress any self expression or identity i might have and with that went a lot of my creativity

after all, how am i supposed to be creative without expressing myself? and if ive numbed all the thoughts that i want to share bc they get me in trouble w my parents, what am i supposed to put into my art?

also being told your whole childhood that you're a guy and receiving all that lovely generational societal trauma of male gender roles and expectations really crushed the pointless wonderful meanderings of my mind. god i cringe a bit now(w compassion<3) but i used to brag about how obsessed i was with productivity, efficiency, logic, order but in hindsight i think it was 98% just feeling like i had to be a high achieving eventually bread winning "guy"

anyway as such ive had a very on again off again relationship w minecraft. it was a coping mechanism when i was young so ive put probably a good 5k+ hours into it but it became increasingly difficult to enjoy as i got older and ive gone years at a time never touching the damn game

its funny bc you could probably chart my whole healing journey and my ups and downs of my mental health by just measuring # of hrs spent in mc per month

but very recently ive been finally reaching a point (thank u therapist) that i am allowing myself the joy of self expression, that i am accepting and loving myself without the judgement of my youth holding me back, that i no longer feel like i have to hide myself away for fear of being crushed again because i have the self love to stand on my own two feet no matter what anybody else thinks

as silly as this probably sounds, joining tumblr just over a week ago has actually played a part in this too. ill probably ramble more ab that some other time whenever i feel like oversharing again but suffice it to say that this environment is incredible and everyone on this platform has made me feel so so so comfortable in my own skin being myself sharing my thoughts and feelings and just existing :3

and ya its a bit goofy but im actually seeing this milestone in how im playing minecraft. not only am i playing again (pretty regularly, too!) but im... just fucking around. no plan, no goal, if i have an idea pop into my head i just go out and do it but im equally content to just strip mine, chop trees, tend to my farms, whatever sounds good in the moment.....

and im building again too!!! no worrying about doing it "right", no stressing about wasting time bc i didnt count something right and now i have to move that wall or i changed my mind and now i have to redo all my flooring... just chipping away at it, trying out new blocks or decor ideas, enjoying it more for the process than the finished product and never needing anything to truly be finished

so ya :3 i havent felt this amazing playing minecraft since probably 2014/15 and im super proud of myself for getting to this point, its been a long journey and im by no means done but silly little things like this give me so so so sooo much hope and encouragement ^^

k thats all if u actually read all that im sorry or ur welcome lol

[pasharuu]

THIS IS THE FIRST PART.

idk why but i wanna show tumblr my aranara quests themed custom tarot deck lmao. i finished it in february but since i created this acc just recently, i gotta put it here now. im just really proud of this project and the fact that i actually finished it.

unfortunately tumblr will only allow me to add 10 pics per post, while there are 23 cards, so that kinda sucks. will have to separate em it seems. i'll also explain a little about my choices on these. so here we go, first ten.

0 the fool - "where the journey begins". i think its already a tradition to put some main figure on the fool card and so did i. glad i used his correct design for the card-

basically theres nothing to explain except for the monarch butterfly symbolism, which usually is a sign of a chosen. not like Arama is any "chosen" in a common sense, but i felt like adding this anyway. 6/10 nice Arama card.

I the magican - creation and manipulation. Aranimba got here for his exclusive sense of beauty and the will to create the beauty. he is an artist after all.

the story of the bg is kinda wonky. it was at release of 3.4 and due to my disappointment i made a pic where Aranimba points at that shiny cave northwest the mt. damavand with excitement. well, now its a boss enterance, but back then i had no clue, i made it literally at the release day lol. but it worked well on the bg of this card. i think you wouldnt guess it was that cave if i didnt tell, and that was done on purpose as well. 8/10 for backstory, and im proud of this card overall.

II the high priestess - waiting for the impulse from outside, confidence. first of all, the high priestess to me was always associated with some whimsy loud woman, and if you ask me, this is where Arapacati fits. however here she is depressively hugging a viparyas cuz she kicked her brothers a decade ago and now shes sad. what did i tell u about whimsy woman? 6/10, solid.

III the empress - the mother, fertility, the birth of a new. THIS IS WHERE WE STARTED, THE MAMA. no need to explain why i put Rukkhadevata here? 6/10, i struggled with this card cuz i hate drawing people, but it came out solid imo.

IV the emperor - the father, discipline, responsibility. to remind you, Araja is basically the one who runs the Vanarana dream realm, the tree of dreams. he is also here for a very simple reason because of being a big boss here, and looking like one as well. 7/10, nice mustache.

V the hierophant - attention to visible and invisible, search of the essence. if you ask me why i put Arapandu here, theres my answer - because he was the only major character who didnt have a card in the process of planning. i have some really vague explaination why exactly on hierophant, its mostly because of Varunastra actually, not Arapandu. i honestly dont have any emotional connection to Arapandu, he's kinda boring. 4/10.

VI the lovers - chosen by heart, determination and aspiration. ONLY BECAUSE OF SUCH INTERPRETATION. im against shipping aranara x anyone.

i think i wouldnt even make any better choice for this card whatsoever. they are here because they share dreams and aspirations and i really love their duet. 9/10 i teared.

VII the chariot - knowledge of the world, searching for the new. these goofy guys are here mostly because of "searching for the new", even though their methods were unsafe and archon knows what would happen to these dummies without any sense of self-preservation if we werent around. fact: they've been wondering for at least 4 years, but i love to say a decade. nay, theyre just very lucky. 5/10.

VIII justice - "play nice, and others will play nice with you". this is a card for Nara Varuna specifically and i decided to make both Lumine and Aether so that everyone will be satisfied. since Nara Varuna did nice in the past, all the aranara praise their name in the present.

the bg is again kinda symbolic. these are runes on Varuna contraption: "the water", when the rain pours, for Lumine, and "the sky", when its sunny, for Aether. i only hate how i made them so vague that theyre barely recognizable eh. but overall good cards, 6/10.

THATS ALL FOLKS.

for now. i bumped into images limit. gotta complete it in the next two posts!!!

[firelord-frowny]

tbh the single most illuminating thing that has come from ~going to therapy~ is the clinical diagnosis of ptsd.

like. i know and understand every single thing that's ever been wrong with me, and I've known and understood the causes of all of those things, but I did NOT have any clue whatsoever that all of those things together are in alignment with the criteria for ptsd.

it's validating in the most heartbreaking way.

somehow it was easier to stomach certain parts of my past when I believed that it only hurt me so bad because i was too sensitive, too much of a wimp, blah blah. and coming to understand that the shit ive been subject to is kinda just Objectively Awful just makes me super sad. :( the saddest bit being that i have to look certain people who are supposed to care about me in the eyes and know that they've been straight up psychologically abusive to me for almost 3 decades. anyway, he's there dumb thought i was thinking that caused me to make this post.

i have aaaaaaaaalllllllllllways been somebody who balks at the idea of ~engagement rings.~ I have always felt that i would be so annoyed if some dude dropped a fuckton of money on a Special Ring for me when he could have instead used to for something more fun.

but now i can't even imagine being important enough to anyone for them to want to shell out money on something pretty for me Just Because. i can't imagine someone feeling like it's worth it for them to save up their paychecks for months on end just to give me a gift.

you know what happened a few weeks ago? i'll tell you what happened a few weeks ago. it's very much Not A Big Deal. certainly not in isolation. it's a non-issue. it's not even a blip on the radar of cruel things a person can do to another person.

my dad went grocery shopping. spent like 200 bucks total on the usual shit. he got everything that everyone in the household put on the list.

except for the juice i like.*

because it was ~too expensive.~ 🙃

four dollars and twenty something cents.

too expensive.

he is not poor.

*ok to be totally fair, he often does get the juice i like. but when stacked up next to all the other "you're not important" signals my family has heaped on me over the years, it fucking stings in the worst way.

[tadpolesonalgae]

aight, we back and we're goin in tabbatha, brace urself.

(i reread the latest chapters because a full absorption was required)

as someone who adores psychology and analyzing literature as well as having dealt with depression, you really hit the nail on the head with chapters 15 and 16.

it was super healing to read readers experience through the beginning of the chapter, with the sisters comforting each other in a very vulnerable way and then taking that comfort away. i ADORE you as an writer for making that choice, even if it sucks in the moment. i think it really shows how much youve grown as an author and i would so sososososo happily read a published novel by you. your humility regarding angst drives me a lil insane with how visceral of emotions you put your readers through tho 😂

you show SO much expertise imo with how you eased us into chapter 16 and the overall tone by beginning with feyre and rhys. by showing us how devastated she was over this and rhys' reaction being just to care for his mate, not truly caring about readers own wellbeing.

moving into readers pov and showing us just HOW bad her depression has gotten since the accident with azriel. cassian sitting outside of her door, and idk about anyone else but he came off as a little abrasive when he addressed reader? but i digress, it took literal days for her sisters to be able to get through to her and to get reader to open up to them about 💫why💫. and then the sisters curling up in bed how they used to and just holding tight, because like one of the other anons mentioned, that the born fae will NEVER truly understand the archeron sisters. and then you nail that point in AGAIN by having rhys interact alone with reader. her terror and her spiralling thoughts, and his disregard for how SHE truly is? his hasty departure where you can feel him disregard her as a loose cannon that he now has to handle the fallout of and Nesta's rescue. because she of all people know how he is with anyone but those he deems important in the moment :(

(the paragraph detailing what reader would have said to each sister respectively made me BAWL, like end of kingdom of ash kinda bawl, so massive respect for that alone.)

the ending with mor has got to be my favorite representation of her post ACOSF, just because ive always believed sjm wanted the focus of this series to be how massively flawed her characters are (and purposely so). you showed the courtier, the commander, AND the ruler of the hewn city very well in her reaction to readers actions and her newly uncovered involvements with eris. because ultimately mor has every reason to be upset with reader regarding eris, but she took her words too far because of her love for the IC. which is a massive flaw all of them possess, that you show BEAUTIFULLY throughout the series.

i also really love the decisions youve made with creating reader's character in general. it makes sense that she would be pushed to the side for so long, its been years that weve been waiting for nesta and elain to heal and so imagining a world where there are four sisters? Perfection, truly. the angst is 🥰🥰🥰

as a chronic lurker on tumblr, ao3, and wattpad respectively for the past decade. You are one of the few writers ive found that makes me want to reread ACOTAR after finding it a lil disappointing at times compared to sjm's other series (no hate, im just a tog and cc ride or die 😂) so when i felt as emotional and inspired as i did, it only makes sense that you hear just how amazing of a writer you are💖 I hope that this brings you some joy while plotting how to torture your readers next.

Respectfully foaming at the mouth waiting for the next chapter.

-🤠

‘as someone who adores psychology and analyzing literature as well as having dealt with depression, you really hit the nail on the head with chapters 15 and 16.’

Okay, I don’t want to get super personal and kind of blabber and waffle all over the place since we’re literally just starting, but hearing people say that they can relate to reader—whether through her anxiety, how introverted she is, or through the moments when she spirals—it kind of bittersweet? As a writer, I feel rewarded that you’re experiencing a connection of some sort with reader, but at the same time it’s hard knowing that those experiences are real emotions for so many people?

‘it was super healing to read readers experience through the beginning of the chapter, with the sisters comforting each other in a very vulnerable way and then taking that comfort away. i ADORE you as an writer for making that choice, even if it sucks in the moment.’

This is so interesting because I know I was quite stressed about uploading chapter 16 since I was worried the calm at the beginning would be too much of a 180° after the intensity of chapter 15? I thought it might be too slow-paced and that perhaps I should have tried to keep that tension going, but at the same time chapter 15 was written intended to be either the first or second highest tension point?

I’m flattered though that you think it was a good choice to have those sweet moments at the beginning and then to end on the angst? Personally I think that’s just a habit now to keep people engaged? 😅

‘i think it really shows how much youve grown as an author and i would so sososososo happily read a published novel by you.’

Is this payback for the angst of cbmthy? Are you trying to make me cry in return? I think it would be fun to write a book but at the same time very draining? I suppose I don’t have to write it now 😅 maybe if I make it to fifty I can sit down and give writing a go, but I’m not sure how realistic it is for me to consider writing a book at the moment :/

Still, thank you so much for such a high compliment—it kind of blows my mind that you’d be interested in an actual physical book 🧡💛

‘your humility regarding angst drives me a lil insane with how visceral of emotions you put your readers through tho 😂’

I genuinely think it might be a case of some of the stuff that pops up in cbmthy/other fics happens to hit specific emotional soft spots? I still don’t think of cbmthy as being particularly sad—it has angsty parts definitely—but to be fair I know the full story whereas you’re still coming out of one of the lowest parts? I’m sure that makes a difference :)

‘you show SO much expertise imo with how you eased us into chapter 16 and the overall tone by beginning with feyre and rhys. by showing us how devastated she was over this and rhys' reaction being just to care for his mate, not truly caring about readers own wellbeing.’

Oh my gosh please I feel like you’re assigning me way too much credit 😭

Honestly it just felt like it made sense to start with Rhys and Feyre since we haven’t really seen them at all it would be a good way to possibly catch some people off guard!! I also just couldn’t figure out how to start it from reader’s perspective since it felt too ‘noisy’(?)—a lot of the choices are heavily influenced by whether or not I feel I can make a scene work, so if I can’t I have to switch it to a different one!! I wouldn’t say it’s anything near expertise 😭 (but I appreciate it nonetheless)

‘cassian sitting outside of her door, and idk about anyone else but he came off as a little abrasive when he addressed reader?’

I think that’s a mix between me genuinely being a little unsure how to write his character and the circumstances? Cassian knows that reader tried to kill herself, that Nesta has had thoughts like those, and that Nesta cares for reader—that plus it being around the middle of the night I guess it was kind of a shift between him being unsure how to approach her since she might still be spiralling, and not wanting to overwhelm her which is why the talking was so minimal? He’s torn between worrying for Azriel who’s his brother and also reader who’s his mate’s younger sister—I think he might have it the most difficult besides reader if I’m honest in terms of conflicting feelings? It was supposed to be a little weird though, since reader doesn’t know what going on, and isn’t particularly familiar with Cassian? Comparatively with her sisters or Bas, I mean :)

‘and then the sisters curling up in bed how they used to and just holding tight’

This was such an enjoyable scene to write and probably one of my favourites so far 🧡💛 I hope it was as pleasant to read as it was to write

‘by having rhys interact alone with reader. her terror and her spiralling thoughts, and his disregard for how SHE truly is?’

I’m glad that this kind of showed? I don’t want Rhys to appear totally insensitive to reader because I think that would be too ooc for him, but he cares for her because she’s his mate’s sister, not because of her. And he still has to think as High Lord, and even putting Mor’s history with Eris aside, Eris’s a dangerous opponent because of how manipulative he can be, and that paired with reader’s more naive side that’s searching for affection from someone isn’t a promising combination?

Even then though, he’s still lost his own sister, so I feel that impedes his ability to be entirely impartial to reader’s situation, hence the mention at the end of the conversation where he tells reader to rest and that she gave them all a scare.

But yeah, he’s a little cold I suppose to her

‘(the paragraph detailing what reader would have said to each sister respectively made me BAWL, like end of kingdom of ash kinda bawl, so massive respect for that alone.)’

I’m incredibly sorry 😔 KoA level of tears shed? 🫢 I feel awful, I’m so sorry 😭🧡💛 (I did enjoy writing that paragraph and the one after it, so I guess it kind of succeeded in its assigned task 😬😭)

‘because ultimately mor has every reason to be upset with reader regarding eris, but she took her words too far because of her love for the IC.’

This is such a nice take that I hadn’t thought of in these specific terms?

I think the born-fae ones of the IC will naturally have a different kind of bond than the sisters do just due to history and experience, but I hadn’t really considered Mor’s reaction to be one that might be fuelled by love for her family because the scene was written from reader’s perspective?

On a slight side note, I find it so enjoyable to see this different take on Mor’s actions since so far I think most people have been somewhat agitated with Mor’s behaviour (and I kind of agree it wasn’t the best way to go about it) so it’s interesting that you’re speculating over her reasons and actually considering her position? 🧡💛

‘the angst is 🥰🥰🥰’

Thank you very much 🧡💛

A year ago I probably would have been concerned to hear something like this, but I guess with the majority of cbmthy supposing to be angsty, it’s good to know it’s having the desired effect? 🫣🧡💛

‘(no hate, im just a tog and cc ride or die 😂)’

We could have an entire conversation about this because I adore Throne of Glass but have struggled so much with Crescent City (I think the modern setting really throws me off?)

‘so when i felt as emotional and inspired as i did, it only makes sense that you hear just how amazing of a writer you are💖 I hope that this brings you some joy while plotting how to torture your readers next.’

Being completely transparent with you I read through your ask multiple times and took a pause in between each one because I kept getting so overwhelmed (in a good way)

I’m so flattered that you wanted to write in this level of detail about the events of ch. 16 of your own accord??? It blows my mind and I want to say just how much I sincerely appreciate you coming into my asks to chat about this story that was by no means planned or supposed to happen but I’m so glad it did 🫂🧡💛