#lmk if anything needs tweaked at all

[rasafcrged]

@lncarnon / nekros sent a meme.

“They torture me, but still they fear me. Do you fear me?“

He was a fascinating construct. He seemed to be something akin to herself - a sentient ... mechanoid, or perhaps a form of adaptation, a melding of bionic and mechanical forms. A blending of species, but yet like nothing that she had ever seen before, and something that she could not readily analyze or identify. And that made him ... fascinating to her. She had no way of knowing what he could ascertain of her own making, what abilities and systems of analyses that he had access to and that made him ... potentially dangerous. But she had long since learned that her curiosity would outweigh a chance of harm in nearly all scenarios.

"Fear?" An easy smile graces the edges of her lips as she watches him, hands clasped loosely together at the small of her back, a light bounce of weight from heel, to toe, and back again as she settled. "No. I am not one that is given easily to fear, or hatred, or the violence that seems to go hand in hand." That brings a slight furrow of her brow, a pensive crease. "I do not desire to see you hurt, or constrained. I am sorry that they have resorted to such tactics. Is there anything that I can offer? Do you require food, or water, or nourishment of some kind?" She did not have the authority to free him, not in the innocuous position that she had obtained with those that currently held him, but she could try and make his time here more comfortable.

[roscvcins]

Xie Lian SHOULD have asked to borrow Nan Feng and Fu Yao again, and then perhaps he wouldn't be in this predicament - but he didn't want to impose on the palaces of Xuanzhen or Nanyang anymore than he had to, and he thought the spiritual power Ling W.en lent him would be enough to last the short little assignment that sent him into the area. And - technically, it did. He caught the trail of the offending demon relatively quickly. The battle wasn't long, nor was the purification of the area. Things were going well enough that he almost forgot they inevitably always went wrong one way or another - and so, on his way back to his little temple in Puqi Village, he felt Fangxing's tell-tale rattle, the hum of the old black sword that indicates he has to make a landing.

And now he's been caught TRESPASSING, on an area clearly private to a group of cultivators - after crashing out of the sky. Smiles, a little sheepish, rubbing his temple lightly with two fingers as he peers at the person who has come upon me. "...Would you believe me if I said I've just got REALLY bad luck?"

@deadn30n liked for a starter !

[streetslost]

@tapalslegacy

       IF INQUIRY ABOUT HOW she had come to find herself in her current situation was given, cat would have stayed silent. not out of any sense of obedience or concern but because she couldn't begin to wrap her head around the ordeal. most days it was a SURVIVAL tactic so far as she could surmise; accept the proposition in order to live. to not get tossed into a prison and sentenced to draw her last breaths. had she b e e n a criminal worth charging so harshly? perhaps, perhaps not. in the grand scheme, she was never part of a rebellion, never an agent against the government.

            her loyalties had fallen nowhere, she had been her own piece in a dejarik game. one without rules or color, the guidelines entirely her own and the goal simple. outlast. the fall of one side was not to her benefit. in the end, she would take whatever would keep her going. credits, sacrifice, second chances, forgiveness, food, a place to sleep, the few promises she could depend on. the position she tackled in that time was b e y o n d the sort of deal she could have ever dreamed up nor considered. an elderly being agreeing to let her crash for a few nights but the grand inquisitor?

     cat was quite certain she didn't even know what that meant.

                 the war's complexities had never made itself truly known to her. priorities had never led her to doorsteps where she felt inclined to swing wide the entryway. the former thief had taken what she NEEDED and then fled before anything further could come. recruitment, requests, barrages of speeches about who was right and who was wrong... how she had hid from it all in desperate attempt to not get pulled into a situation that would only lead to death. now look at her.

     not that she was a target - she was an unknown. someone to be left alone but also an oddity. she followed but strayed, and her presence left most unnerved, curious, or perhaps enraged. one didn't need to talk of policy and behavior to stir frustrations.

                yet, now, in that fleeting moment of travel between destinations, following with tightened shoulders that ached and feet that threatened to blister, her gritted teeth revealed as much to the words she dared to speak to her companion. "this is fucking boring. when do i get t'use one of the blasters or something-" there was no chance on a SABER, and no inclination in her to request. the force wasn't within her grasp, and there was doubt it would ever be. the brunette didn't need it to aim well, and the idea of lacking her own natural talents left her disgusted.

          she ought to have lowered her voice, "or a'the very least, can we get something to eat?"

[silvasuns]

starter for: @viktor-liddell where: viktor's workspace when: 15:22

Guilherme's knows there's more to his role than only to speak when spoken to. His particular position demands a proactive bearing that doesn't play well with the specific streak of reluctance he feels towards approaching Viktor, however. Shirking his responsibilities doesn't sit well with him either, though — particularly because he knows those who do, once caught, are generally not easily forgiven.

Mistrust is the last thing he wants ( needs, even ). So here he stands, on the other side of the monarch's desk with his tablet in hand — proof to back up the likely unwelcome news he's about to share. ❛  Thank you for seeing me. I'm afraid I come bearing ... troublesome news. It's your brother, Maksim.  ❜

[parkers-gal]

promise J.B.

summary: bucky is protective over reader, the new lab assistant and resident doctor at the compound

wc: 2k

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

a/n: no warnings (lmk if i missed anything). barely proof read. requests are open!

═══════════ ⋆★⋆ ═══════════

the first time he met you, he was expecting dr. cho’s usual lab assistant. it was meant to be a brief check in after his latest mission with sam, just a minor tweak to a piece of tech on his uniform. 

“hey, do you thin-” bucky strides in to dr. miller’s office, full tactical suit still on. he’d came straight from the quinjet, but glancing up from his arm holster he notices that dr. miller’s office is now replaced by your office. 

you look up from your lab report, a pile of open wires laying beside it as you twiddle with the machinery. “oh, i’m sorry. i think dr. banner forgot to notify you: dr. miller transferred to shield co-op missions. i’m his replacement.” you wipe the sweat from your hand onto your white lab coat and stand from your chair. “i’m y/n.”

bucky reads the nametag on your labcoat, dr. l/n. “oh.” his eyes move from the tag to your eyes. “sorry.” 

your smile immediately shifts whatever emotions he just had about the situation. your expression is soft and for a moment, bucky thinks you’re too innocent to be working in a business surrounded by violence. it provokes something deep in his stomach, something he can’t quite place.

“i’d be happy to assist you with whatever you need, though!” you smile again, this one giving bucky an even warmer feeling through his chest. “i already read all of dr. miller’s previous lab reports, and i’m just as good with needles as i am with technology.” you shift your head towards the mutilated hardware on your desk, then smile back at bucky.

he almost chuckles. almost. instead, he adorns a smirk, so subtle you might not have caught it had you not been staring at him, waiting for a reply. hesitantly, he steps forward, holding his arm out to show you what he needs changed.

that was four months ago. now, bucky looks for any excuse to head to your office, whether it be a slightly twisted wrist, a broken button on his suit, or even a question about a new weapon for his next mission. 

“what can i do for you today, james?” your back is turned to him. you’re busy fiddling with a microscope, but bucky can hear the smile on your face.

“bucky,” he corrects. “are you going to tony’s gala this saturday?”

you stop squinting and stand upright, turning to face him. you have a quizzical look on your face. “do doctors usually go to those sorts of things?”

bucky shrugs. “i think dr. cho has before.”

you hum, turning back to the microscope. “well, i do need to catch up with natasha…” you turn the knob for the lens. “is that why you came to see me?”

he pauses. you hear his feet shuffling and smile to yourself. “i just wanted to ask about… my… belt.”

you suppress a laugh and face him again “really?” you grin. “your belt?”

he hums, a tint spreading on his cheeks. 

“well, i haven’t had lunch yet, if you would like to get something for us, we can talk about your belt during my break.”

his head perks up at that. “okay, i’ll be back in twenty.”

he’s out of the room so quick and it makes you smile again. as you turn back to the microscope, somebody else enters.

“back alread- oh.” 

john walker. 

you have never been particularly fond of him, especially after a heated argument he had with sam and steve a couple months back. he works for shield, but sometimes they send him to the avenger’s compound to retrieve specific types of upgrades or get intel about an overlapping mission. 

“aw, don’t seem too disappointed, sweets.” he smiles, the image disgusting you. 

you walk away from the microscope towards a centrifuge sitting on the opposite counter. 

“what can i help you with?”

“what, i come all this way and i can’t just talk to you?”

you bite your lip. “i’m afraid i don’t understand.”

he laughs. “i want to get to know you.”

“like right now?”

“right now… over dinner…” he smiles again, the same disgusting one. “whichever you prefer.”

unsure on how to reply, you turn back to the machine. “i don’t know if that’s appropriate.”

“but it’s okay if you do it with bucky?”

“what about me?” bucky steps through the door with a bag of food in one hand. once noticing john, his jaw clicks. “what are you doing here?”

“just wanted to talk to the lady, that’s all.” he shrugs his shoulders. “is that against the law?”

“it is if she doesn’t want that.”

your gaze shifts to bucky. his blue eyes are piercing, and his gaze is colder than any he’s ever given you. you sense the tension growing the longer he stares at john. 

john interrupts the silence. “what’s the issue, man?” he steps towards bucky. it’s a small step, but it has bucky rigid. “it’s not like she’s taken. she’s free game.”

bucky scoffs. “if you speak about women like they’re prizes to win then you don’t deserve to speak to them.”

your heart flutters. after all he’s been through, bucky still chooses to be an amazing guy. your admiration for him only grows. 

“nobody said anything about that.” john raises his hands in surrender. “don’t get jealous… it’s not like she’s yours…”

his jaw clenches again. you can see his hands are balled into fists at his side. faintly, you hear the whirring of the metal plates in his arm. 

“i think you should leave.”

bucky steps aside, clearing a space for john to walk out the door. reluctantly, he leaves, but not before sparing you another glance and whispering a “call me.”

when he’s finally left the room, you exhale, glancing back to bucky and his tense shoulders. 

“thank you… for that.”

he blinks. his eyes finally find you and he blinks away the tension. 

“of course. you shouldn’t have to put up with that, especially in your place of work.”

you nod and a shy smile takes over your face. you move a strand of hair to behind your ear and turn back to the machine so bucky doesn’t notice your face. he does anyway.

“so, lunch?”

═══════════ ⋆★⋆ ═══════════

saturday evening rolls around and, after having double checked with tony and natasha about the validity of your invitation, you get dressed for the gala. the dress fits your form and drapes down to just below your knees. you pair it with a simple pair of heels and your favorite necklace. 

you hope bucky likes it.

stop. that’s inappropriate. we’re work colleagues. he would’ve helped out any girl that needed it, he-

oh fuck.

you notice him immediately. he’s sat at the bar talking to steve, legs draped off the bar seat, thighs thick even in his dress pants. his long hair is neatly swept back, and the glass of bourbon in his metal hand clinks from the ice. 

natasha spots you first. she was just by the entrance, and she immediately greets you.

“how are you?”

you smile at her, happy to be with her after having not had the chance lately. “good, busy in the lab as always.”

she chuckles understandingly. “seems like tony has everyone working overtime.”

she goes on about one thing or another, but at some point you tune her out because bucky has finally noticed you. you can tell he’s tuned steve out too. 

he can’t stop staring. granted, he always stares at everyone, but the way he looks at you differs from that so much. it has your knees weak and you can feel your heart pound a little harder in your chest. his tongue darts out to wet his lips and the faintest smirk appears on his face.

steve turns around to see what his best friend is staring at. noticing you, he leans his head back at the sudden enlightenment and faces bucky. he speaks lowly, “why don’t you ask her out?”

bucky jerks his head towards steve. “what?” he’s defensive at having just been caught. “why would i do that?”

steve rolls his eyes. “because visiting her office everyday is totally normal…” his tone is laced with sarcasm.

you’ve been spending too much time with sam.

“shut up.”

“so you don’t like her, then?”

“i-” bucky huffs. “i never said that.”

“well, i’d act fast.”

his brows furrow. “Why?”

steve points towards you and bucky’s gaze shifts from his best friend to you. there, john walker attempts to offer you a drink, and bucky can tell even from his distant spot at the bar that you’re smiling to be polite.

he doesn’t reply to steve, abandoning his drink and his friend at the bar as he makes his way over to you. 

“can i help you?”

john has to turn to look at bucky, his smile dropping. you can tell he’s aggravated by the presence of the former winter soldier.

“no, i think we’re good.” he doesn’t even attempt to make his smile look genuine.

“i don’t think we are.” bucky steps closer to you. his head dips down, lips close to your ear as he speaks in a low whisper. “you okay, peaches?”

you smile, giddy at the sudden pet name. you nod gently, grateful for bucky’s care, and try not to bite your lip from the interaction. 

“why don’t you go somewhere else?” bucky’s gentle tone is replaced with a stoic one, his annoyance for john returning.

“why can’t i just talk to the girl?” he looks at you expecting your defense.

bucky’s left hand wraps around your waist. his fingers rub your side softly, gracing your hip. your stomach flips in a fit of butterflies. the sudden act of affection has your knees buckling. you want him to pull you closer in case you collapse.

“she’s not interested.” 

john’s eyes widen slightly and he backs away, muttering something under his breath. you feel bucky’s metal fingers squeeze your side slightly. he turns to look at you. 

“i’m sorry about him.”

you can barely hold eye contact. “it’s not your fault.” a sudden boost in courage has you pulling your hand up to smooth out the lapel of his suit. “besides, you’re my hero.”

his eyes flicker with appreciation at having been called that. “yeah?”

you hum in agreement. his other hand reaches towards your face, tracing the hair that sits behind your ear, pinned up in the updo you’ve done for the gala. another stomach flip.

“in that case, does your hero get any reward?” he has a playful smirk, his tone light.

“i suppose…” you smile back. “got anything in mind?”

he pulls you until you're facing him directly. his other hand sits at your waist, too. now you can’t look away, forced to look into his eyes as he undresses you with them. he hums as if the answer sits on his tongue. his metal hand pulls you forward, forcing you to take a step closer to him. his flesh hand moves from your waist to your cheek, nose brushing against yours, delicate, like a dance. his breath fans against your face and your eyelids flutter shut. you exhale, a bundle of nerves leaving too.

his lips ghost against yours, waiting to see if you’d pull back or say you’re crossing a line. you don’t dare stop him. you feel his lips curve slightly; he’s smirking against you. before it grows anymore, his lips connect with yours, warm and supple and tender. he kisses you like every second is a promise, like he wants the world to know you’ll never be anyone else’s.

and now, you know it’s a promise he’ll never break. 

[cosmosluckycharms]

Imagine spider reader taking a more punk appearance to one, look like hobie and two, piss off the batfam >:3

Them thinking it would do more damage than they thought bc they thought the reason they disliked hobie was bc of his punk appearance and when they finally do the new look the batfam is just “ohhh new look? Looks cool! :3”.

Spider reader just tweaking out bc of it bc how dare you like my attempt to stick it up to the man (you)

Love da writing, joe L mama 👺

i feel like spider!reader has peircings based on hobie and gwen + her clothing and everything is based on them too!!

plus dyed hair cause of gwen

i feel like honestly the only judgemental one is damian

but lemme write this this is so silly

Spider!reader: *its 4 am and you've been in your room all night dying your hair* haha this will finally piss them off they need to leave me ALONE

*walks to the kitchen to get water not realizing jason just snuck in to get a snack*

Jason: woah did you do something new to your hair? it looks nice

Spider!reader: FUCK *storms off to room, still waterless*

Spider!reader: i just gave myself a bunch of peircings with a rusty sewing needle and glitter glue hopefully damians victorian child ass fuckinf DIES

damian: *now barging into her room holding a bunch of painting supplies* i require your assistance- what did you do??

spider!reader: i did em myself, dont they look nice?

damian, who knows better than to argue with you (he'll never win): they look fine, i guess. anyway-

spider!reader: okay fine whatever fuck you too

damian: ???

spider!reader, just got off call with spider-kids and now has a new haircut: okay so theyre SURELY gonna leave me alone now, right??

dick: i like the new haircut, its so adorable! *squishes your cheeks*

spider!reader: im gonna kill you. LEAVE ME ALONE

dick: 😄

spider!reader walking around the manor in some of hobie/gwens clothing: these are suprisingly comfy

tim: i fw the fit

spider!reader: LEAVE ME ALONE HO

alfred:

spider!reader: i hate you

can u guys tell when this got lazier and lazier lmfaooo

this is so ass but i hope u guys get the point🙏

also please lmk if i got anything punk wrong i know next to nothing abt punk culture im sorry 😓

[weediee]

New Orleans Beignets

HUMAN ALASTOR X FEM WIFE!READER (She/Her pronouns)

Summary: Y/N is one of the leading bakery owners in the entirety of New Orleans! People travel minutes, hours to try the sweet treats that reside within her bakery. But there's one special radio host who's obsessed with none other than her famous New Orleans Beignets.

E/N: This is based off of Princess Tiana's Beignets. It was too perfect not to make into an Alastor story so why not + she's one of my favourite princesses.

This story isn't proofread so it's not perfect. Also I haven't written for a while so I might be a little rusty, but I hope you all enjoy it anyways! x

No trigger warnings besides some light kisses! (Lmk if I forgot any.)

Rainy afternoons were never the brightest time for those in New Orleans.

The freezing cold, the shivering of finger tips, the multiple layers worn in hopes of being able to keep at least a little bit warm. It was always certainly a surprise when people realized that instead of the usual sunlight and humidity, it was going to rain.

So, what do those in New Orleans do during these miserable days? Well there's one of two things. Stay inside, bored half to death, or go find a nice place to have a cozy meal and settle down for the day. And what better place to go rather than Y/N's bakery?

That's the thought that Alastor thought of every day when these storms swept through New Orleans (and every usual day too.)

No rain, hail, nor shine could prevent him from leaving the studio on his lunch break to go check on his dearest wife who was slaving away in her bakery, and in the process of greeting her, he could never resist stealing one of her heavenly Beignets.

"Hello, anyone home?" Alastor spoke loudly, his radio voice on show as he entered the door. He watched as Y/N perked up from behind the counter after hearing the short chime of the door opening. "Hello, stranger." She laughed softly, standing up straight to brush off her dusty apron. It was adorned with pastry batter and powdered sugar from all the sweets made throughout the day, if anything it was just a sign of how hard she worked.

"Yes, I did prepare your Beignets darling." She admitted without a question needed, walking over to her husband to pass over a small brown paper bag, inside two hot Beignets showered perfectly with powdered sugar. They smelled divine, it was like heaven itself had been baked into two small pastries.

"Just how you like it." She nodded slightly, moving forward to kiss her husband's cheek nonchalantly.

"Thank you my dear, without you I fear I would starve!" Alastor laughed, looking at his wife with such a thankful and loving look plastered across his face. "You truly are such a darling when it comes to spoiling me."

"Only for New Orleans finest radio host." She said proudly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Alastor leaned forward, kissing her forehead softly for a moment before pulling away, smiling down at his gorgeous girl. "And only for New Orleans finest Beignet maker."

E/N: I'm tweaking I hate this. Am I still going to post it? Yes.

PLEASE don't be hesitant to send me some Alastor ideas or head cannons you'd like me to write. I really don't enjoy writing without a plot like this story, you can see the laziness within my work.

All dandy though, have a wonderful evening everyone!

- Weedie 🥀

[nodoubtily]

asking riki to touch my tits when I'm hot and bothered and feeling stuffy in my clothes

and that leads to go a good nipple sucking + fingering orgasm oh my 😻

aighttt

Thank you to @uzmacchiato for the dividers! Credits to you!

I’m feeling very motivational—must be birthday jitters.

warnings : smut so MDNI, fingering, nipple play, softdom!Niki, lmk if I missed anything. I’m using the middle picture as reference for minimal plot!

perm taglist : @jyikeu @goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby

”Wanna see the tattoo?” You ask, a smirk playing along your lips. You stare at your boyfriend, fingers fidgeting with the edge of your shirt. “It’s finally healed. You can see it now.”

“Fucking finally. Where even is it?” Niki asks, completely in the dark. He doesn’t know what tattoo you got, where it is located, and why you got it.

“So you wanna see it?” You tease him, just to push his buttons.

“Babe, I swear to g—“ his sentence is cut off by surprise.

As soon as he starts, your hands lift your shirt, bunching it at your chest. His eyes don’t even see it, too distracted by the cushions either side of it.

“Do you like it?” You ask, excited for his response. A response you don’t get. “Baby?”

That snaps him out of his trance, and his eyes meet yours. “What?” He asked, confused.

“The tattoo. Do you like it?” You scoff, laughing. “You’re such a pervert.”

“I’m sorry, but you flashed me. And I’m just a man.” He shrugs before dropping his eyes to the small tattoo. “It looks nice. Suits you.” He nods before his eyes land back on your breasts.

“Thank you.” You don’t get to pull your shirt down, as Niki grabs your wrist, pulling you onto his lap, straddling him.

You seem to get even more surprised when Niki latches his mouth onto one of of your nipples. And he sucks.

His tongue swirls around the bud, teasing you. His hand glides to the other nipple, tweaking it. Sparks of sensitivity jolt you, and as you will shamelessly admit, it doesn’t take long for Niki to get you wet.

He switches to the other nipple, mouth sucking and licking all around the skin. He sucks hickies along your chest, decorating your collarbone with pronounced bruises that no one will mistake them for what they are.

“Need you, baby.” You rock your hips against his, earning a low groan from his chest.

“Yeah? What do you need?” His question only frustrates you, but you refuse to show that.

“Something, please.” Rocking your hips against Niki’s don’t give the relief you so desperately need, and your voice becomes more whinier the longer he stretches the seconds out.

“What do you say?”

“Please, baby. I need it s’bad.” Your words merge together in restlessness.

“Just because you asked so nicely.” Your hole clenches in excitement when you feel Niki’s hand dip under your short flow-like skirt.

His index finger glides alone your slit over your panties, pressing on your clit, causing a sharp whine to elicit from your throat.

“So fucking sensitive.” He pulls your panties to the side, sliding his index finger inside your greedy hole, stretching you slightly.

With almost no time, he slides in his second finger, creating a scissor-like motion with his fingers. He moves his thumb over your clit, drawing slow circles as he works you open.

“So fucking tight.” Niki sucks through his teeth, lips temporarily leaving your nipples. His eyes meet your clouded ones, and his mouth joins yours in a sloppy, messy, wet kiss. His tongue massages yours in a passionate sense, and your lips dance among his lovingly. Your hands find his face, resting over his cheeks as you grind against his fingers.

“Feels good.” You puff out, the surrounding area hot and stuffy. Your mouth latches onto Niki’s neck, sucking bruises near his pulse point as your hips work you up to your pending climax.

The lending climax which seems to be on its way much faster than you had anticipated. Not that you’re complaining, it feels too good.

“So tight around my fingers.” He mumbles, more to himself, than to you.

“Gonna cum.” You announce, focusing on the pressure that builds up in your lower abdomen.

“Gonna cum all over my fingers? Make a mess on me?” His voice is low, seductive. He knows what he’s doing. And he’s enjoying your reaction.

“Yes— make a big fuckin’ mess—yes!” You shove your head to the crook of his neck, arms locked around his neck, angling your hips to a faster pace that brings you even closer to your orgasm.

That, along with Niki’s thumb, is what gets you to the edge. It’s his words that get you though.

“That’s my good girl. Cum for me.” He coaxes you comfortingly to your very-much-needed orgasm, and your walls spasm around Niki’s slender fingers.

He praises you as you ride your climax out, tits jiggling slightly when you breathe hard.

Niki slowly slides his fingers out of you, and you swatch him as he brings them to his mouth, and his tongue laps it his fingers, licking them clean of your juices.

You rest, head leaning on his shoulder. Niki only laughs though.

“You tired?”

You nod.

“Well, don’t be. I’m not done with you just yet.”

[aubins]

Bernadetta flinches, and it occurs to Yuri only then that they had not put up their mask of pleasantries and charms— that, now, it is far too late to. They ought to have made some quip about how people might've killed to sit where she does now, laughed it off and bid her rest before the tension ever had the chance to grow so thick in the air.

Too late, they think again, alarmed. Straighten up as though there are words to fumble for that might fix the way she trembles and drops her gaze, as though they do not simply linger there a beat, then slump. Legs draw up to their chest, arms curled around them as they rest their chin atop where their knees fold.

It's the cold that has them dropping their guard, they tell themself. Except Yuri knows it's just Bernadetta— Bernadetta who forgave the knife at her throat and so earnestly forgives everything afterward. Bernadetta who makes them want to be honest, because honesty is the only thing they can give her now, the only thing they can offer of any value.

Because maybe it's not really fine, but that's not her fault in the slightest. Who can Yuri even blame for it but themself?

“I'm not...” they begin, stubborn, yet still falter quick when the candy lands in their direction. They lift it slowly, hesitantly with a hand, then set it back down between them. “...Okay,” comes their exhale of agreement. “But you have to wake me, yeah? You need to rest too.”

And so their head tilts, turned in the direction opposite her, because despite how they've acquiesced, Yuri doubts they will find much sleep at all. They cannot bear to look at her all the while.

Because she flinched, and it is burned into their memory now: how their words had cut deeper than their knife ever had.

(They are, really, the worst kind of bastard. The most awful kind of ‘friend.’)

＊ woven back from violence .

anni '24 | heavy armor +1　 ▪ ▪ ▪ 　yuri & bernadetta

[eternallyordinary]

"He Belongs to You" Part 19

⁺˚⋆。°✩₊✩°。⋆˚⁺ ˚ ༘ ⁺˚⋆。°✩₊✩°。⋆˚⁺ ˚ ༘ ⁺˚⋆。°✩₊✩°。⋆˚⁺ ˚ ༘ ⁺˚⋆。

I KNOW MY KIDS ARE HUNGRY LETS EAT <33333 i've been reading through previous chapters and tweaking some things (note to self: write before you're half a bottle of wine deep) lololol anyways pls send me any suggestions and pls pls reblog if you’re enjoying the series :') i'm so hyperfixated on homelander rn i won't be ending this series anytime soon!!! but if i do find a new obsession i promise i'll give y'all a killer ending hehe. love you baddies <3

Series Masterlist<3

Summary: Homelander has shown you his darkest sides. Why can't you do the same?

Warnings: violence, language, posessive behavior, trauma, SA trauma, controlling partner, yandere (lmk if i forgot something)

⁺˚⋆。°✩₊✩°。⋆˚⁺ ˚ ༘ ⁺˚⋆。°✩₊✩°。⋆˚⁺ ˚ ༘ ⁺˚⋆。°✩₊✩°。⋆˚⁺ ˚ ༘ ⁺˚⋆。

The text message echoed in your mind, looping like a broken record.

we need to talk. it’s about them. we need to talk. it’s about them.

Each repetition sent a fresh wave of unease through you, your anxiety clawing its way to the surface.

And of course, Homelander noticed. How could he not?

No matter how skilled you’d become at masking your emotions from the world, hiding them from him was nearly impossible. He caught the subtle signs—the way your fingers picked at your cuticles, the restless way you toyed with the hem of your top.

Every tell, every shift in your body language, laid bare under his unwavering gaze.

Your phone continues to vibrate against the kitchen counter.

Fuck. Can it stop?

A second time.

A third.

The sound is deafening in the silence, each buzz drilling further into your nerves.

Homelander’s gaze snaps to it, jaw tightening at the way your fingers hesitate—at the way you just stare at the screen, like it holds something you don’t want him to see.

And honestly? You don’t even know why. You have no idea what this message means. But you know how things go. You know how baggage pushes people away, how it warps the way they look at you.

And him? Homelander? He’s the last person you want to see you unravel.

So you hesitate. You stall.

Stupid girl.

As if he wouldn’t figure it out.

His expression shifts—annoyance first, then suspicion.

His blue eyes flick to yours, sharp, searching.

Reading you like a book you thought you’d kept locked shut.

He storms over to the phone, snatching it off the counter before hurling it into your hands.

"You're acting weird." His voice is tight, clipped—like he's barely holding something back.

"What?" you stammer, but you already know what’s coming.

"Unlock it."

"Homelander, I don't know who it is. I promise—"

"Now."

The word is sharp, slicing through the tension like a blade.

Your breath catches in your throat. His eyes are locked on you—unblinking, expectant. The weight of his stare alone makes your hands shake as you bring the phone closer, your fingerprint hovering over the screen before it unlocks with a soft click.

His gaze drops, scanning the message.

A slow exhale.

A pause.

Then—his eyes snap back up.

"Who the fuck is this?"

You swallow hard. "I—I don’t know."

That answer isn’t enough. You see it in the way his jaw twitches, the way his grip tightens around the phone.

His stare sharpens, cutting straight through you. "And why don't you feel like you can just tell me you got a weird fucking text message? You should be able to trust me. Unless there's something you're hiding, sweetheart?"

Your heart pounds. "I promise, I'm not hiding anything, I just... I don't want to keep involving you in my shit."

That was the wrong thing to say.

In an instant, his hand is on your face. His fingers dig into your jaw—not quite bruising, but just shy of it. A warning.

And then—he laughs. Low. Bitter. Cold.

"You still don't get it, do you?" he echoes, shaking his head. "Fucking hell."

His grip doesn’t loosen. If anything, it tightens.

"I killed them all. And I told you, I'd kill anyone else. I told you nothing you could do, nothing you could say could change the way I feel about you."

His thumb drags over your cheek, slow and deliberate, his tone twisting into something almost... desperate.

"You saw me caked in fucking blood after murdering them, and you still don't trust me. I'm trying to change for you, trying to give you all of myself."

His grip loosens just slightly—just enough for his thumb to trace over your bottom lip, his other hand falling to your waist.

"Why can't you just fucking open up?"

"It's not that I don't trust you. I do. I just..." You hesitate, swallowing hard, your throat tightening around the words. "I'll never not think of myself as damaged goods. And I know you fucking hate that. I know."

His expression darkens, but you push forward before he can stop you.

"I thought killing them would make it go away. But it’s been twelve hours and someone is already saying something else. Next thing, I’ll be plastered all over TMZ, then on CNN, forced to make a statement about my past—about something I was trying to bury. Something I've been trying to let go of for years now."

Your breath hitches, but you force yourself to keep going.

"You’re a man. You’re Homelander. You can do whatever the fuck you want. Walk through life untouched. But me?" Your voice cracks. "I’m a woman. A new member of The Seven. And now? Put rape victim on top of that—"

Before you can even finish, he moves.

In a blink, he grabs the coffee maker off the counter and hurls it across the room.

It shatters against the wall—not just breaking, but going through it, leaving a jagged hole in the drywall.

The room is dead silent, save for the sound of plastic and glass hitting the floor.

You go rigid, your heart hammering against your ribs.

Homelander's chest rises and falls, his fingers twitching at his sides, still tensed from the throw. His jaw clenches so tightly it looks like it might snap.

Then—he speaks.

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop talking about yourself that way?!"

It’s not a question.

It’s a demand.

And the way he says it—it’s not anger, not just frustration. It’s something worse. It’s hurt. A raw, aching wound buried under layers of rage.

You freeze.

He’s coming undone.

And it’s your fault.

He doesn’t even look at you as he straightens his suit. He smooths out the fabric, adjusting the cuffs of his gloves with slow, methodical movements. Composing himself. Or at least, trying to.

Rebuilding the mask. Something he's used to do doing.

Then, his voice—flat, cold, distant.

"I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to say something I'll regret."

You reach for him, fingers brushing against his arm, desperate to hold onto something—anything—but he brushes you off.

"Not now."

Those words cut sharper than any blade.

He exhales sharply, rolling his shoulders back. "Sorry about the mess. I'll have maintenance come by."

His tone is impassive, detached, like he’s discussing a minor inconvenience, not a coffee maker lodged into the fucking wall.

He’s already somewhere else—mentally, emotionally—leaving you behind before he even walks out the door.

"I have to go to the convention early. Some bullshit VIP booth."

You stare at him, trying to find him in all that cold steel, but he won’t meet your eyes.

"Please don't respond to them. Don’t say anything. And don’t hide anything else from me. It won't end well for either of us."

His head tilts slightly, blue eyes flicking to yours—a warning.

"I mean it."

And then—

In a blur of red and blue, he’s gone.

The force of his departure rattles the apartment, the loose pieces of broken plastic from the coffee maker skittering across the tile.

And for the first time since you met him—he leaves without you.

__

You're still shaken as you gather your things.

What is this feeling?

Guilt? No—disappointment.

You let him down.

The thought clings to you like a stain, sinking into your chest, suffocating. Your mommy issues claw at the back of your mind, flipping through memories like pages in a book—replaying, problem-solving, obsessing. Trying to find a way to make this right.

Trying to find a way to make yourself right.

Because that’s what it always comes back to, doesn’t it?

If you were better. Stronger. Whole.

Then this wouldn’t be happening.

You force yourself to push the morning aside, trying to believe that things will smooth over once you see him again. That this will pass.

It will, right?

It has to.

The last thing you want to do is go to this stupid fucking event—to pretend, to smile, to take photos with screaming kids and their exhausted parents, to slap on a fake fucking grin and act like everything is fine.

But this is what you signed up for.

To be a product. A face. A commodity.

With a sigh, you sling your bag over your shoulder, heading for the door.

Then—your phone rings.

Your heart stops.

For a split second, you hesitate to look.

Then, relief.

A Vought number.

Thank God.

For half a second, you thought it was them. The unknown caller.

Fuck. You need to shake this.

Can someone get you a Xanax?

You press accept.

"Hello?"

A bright, unfamiliar voice comes through the speaker.

"Hey! This is Dana! I’m the new PA. We’re here to pick you up downstairs!"

Ugh.

Too cheery. Too fresh.

You don’t even try to hide your exhaustion. "Right. Be right there."

Let’s just get this over with.

You grab your things and step out of your apartment, heading toward the waiting car.

Then—

A scream.

Sharp. Sudden.

It cuts through the city noise, coming from the alley beside Vought Tower.

Then—another shout. A struggle.

Your instincts kick in.

You round the corner, adrenaline surging, anger simmering beneath your skin—furious at yourself, at Homelander, at everything.

You almost welcome the chance to take it out on someone.

And then—you see them.

A woman, pinned against the wall.

A man gripping her wrists, his leering face close to hers, her body trembling.

Her eyes wide with fear.

"Hey!" you call, your voice sharp, commanding.

The man’s head snaps toward you.

But before you can react—

A sting in your neck.

A needle.

Your body locks up.

Your vision blurs.

Your knees buckle.

You try to speak—to scream—but the sound never comes.

And the last thing you see?

The woman stops pretending to be afraid.

She smirks.

She was never the victim.

You are.

Again.

Then—darkness.

__

Homelander stands stiffly in the VIP lounge, shoulders squared, expression unreadable.

Even though he left in a huff, even though he stormed out without you—

He’s still furious.

At you.

At himself.

He wants you to trust him. Wants you to just let go.

"Hi, sir—anything I can do for you?"

The Deep. Useless. Annoying. As always.

Homelander barely spares him a glance before snapping—

"Get the fuck away from me."

The Deep freezes. His lips part like he’s about to say something else, but he thinks better of it.

"Got it." He backs away.

Homelander exhales sharply. Checks the time.

Then checks it again.

And again.

And again.

You should be here by now.

Before he can look at his watch for the tenth time—

The doors burst open.

FBI agents flood the room.

For a moment, stunned silence.

Then, A-Train mutters, "What the fuck?"

It’s almost cute that the FBI thinks they have any authority over gods.

But Homelander plays the game. Always has.

"You can’t act above the people in power, even though you are, John." Dr. Vogelbaum’s voice lingers in his head.

One of the agents steps forward, rigid, formal.

"Boys… what’s this about?" Homelander’s voice is too calm.

"Sir, we’ve been instructed by the President to take you all to a secure location. Please follow us."

Homelander laughs under his breath. "That’s sweet. But we can handle ourselves."

The agent doesn’t flinch. "You might be able to, sir. But this threat has already taken down one of your own."

The words hit him.

Something inside him snaps to attention.

His eyes narrow.

"Who?"

The agent doesn’t answer. Just glances at the others.

Homelander’s patience frays.

"Fucking tell me—"

Sage nudges him, voice low. "Let’s just follow them."

And for some reason, he listens.

__

The door to the safe room latches shut behind them.

The space is sterile, windowless. Secure.

Homelander cracks his knuckles.

"Alright. Now tell me what the fuck is going on. And tell me now."

The lead agent steps forward, hands clasped, voice calm.

"Thank you for your patience, Homelander. Unfortunately, we have been made aware of an outside threat that has taken a member of—"

"WHICH MEMBER?"

But he already knows the answer.

His stomach twists.

His eyes scan the room.

Only one person is missing.

You.

The agent gives him a tight-lipped, awkward look—like he doesn’t want to say it outright.

Homelander doesn’t need to hear it.

He already knows.

"Yeah, I’m not going to sit here and fucking circle jerk with you idiots. I’m going to find my girlfriend."

He turns to leave.

"Sir, please—"

The agent reaches out.

Wrong move.

Homelander whirls around, fist connecting with the man’s chest.

The agent doesn’t even have time to scream before his heart is in Homelander’s hand.

The room erupts into chaos.

Agents scramble, shouting, reaching for weapons.

Homelander doesn’t give them the chance.

In a single, searing glare, his lasers cut through them all.

The stench of burnt flesh fills the room.

Blood coats his suit.

He turns to his teammates, expression blank, voice even.

"If you don’t help me find her, I’ll do the same to all of you. Try me."

The Seven stare.

Then—without hesitation—

They follow.

__

Your head pounds.

Your limbs feel heavy.

The air is cold. Damp. Rotten.

You’re sitting. Chained.

A soft creak from the corner.

A masked figure steps forward.

Their voice, smooth. Mocking.

"You could’ve replied to my text faster, at least."

They tilt their head.

"I told you we needed to talk."

⁺˚⋆。°✩₊✩°。⋆˚⁺ ˚ ༘ ⁺˚⋆。°✩₊✩°。⋆˚⁺ ˚ ༘ ⁺˚⋆。°✩₊✩°。⋆˚⁺ ˚ ༘ ⁺˚⋆。

tag list: @raginginkedslut @helreyy @lilyalone @naty-1001 @emily048

[urautismdiagnosis-wistie]

Captain Barnacles my beloved (click for higher quality)

<reblogs appreciated :>

My glorious man, my most wonderful guy ever

random thoughts about him under the cut

Sob I'm so many years behind in octonauts episodes I'm barely scratching the iceberg lmso but my general vibe of octonauts above and beyond so far is that "Holy Sht Global Warming" and also My tiny Friends Have Grown!! Like dude I'm so proud of them all lol

Honestly to me the captain is just in his 30s, somewhere in there, idk what his role is in the found family (father figure?? big brother???) but honestly I adore his relationships with each of the octonauts (esp with dashi ahahhagugugh!!!! and peso too augdhbf Theyre so precious he's so proud of them) I love how he and tweak just get eachother and kwazii is just like His Favorite Little Guy??? and shellington, my god-

Like this guy just adopts everything in sight istg- <3

Im starting to realize that either my autism is blinding me or maybe he's autistic too and like??? Theater kid ahhh playing the accordion and bursting into song?? Mr "I am so full of obsession and love for all of this and all of you", Mr " I got my gup struck by lightning, my arm crushed by a clam, stung by a jellyfish, nearly attacked by barracadas, thrown around violently on the back of a wall, crashed into a sunken ship, and then nearly drowned and Hahaha Yes Im Fine did you all need anything?" LIKE SIR???

Also you just know he went out and got his whole nautical fit, with the hat and everything, and just went "oh crap I cant be the only one uhhhh" and then gave EVERYONE THE CUTEST FREAKING MATCHING HATS!!!

this guy had dreams and they're coming true and all his dreams are BEAUTIFUL-

also my partner was helping me figure out his design and went "omg am I just helping u make him a dilf" and I went "nah we making him a papi" and like damn cuz- sobbing can you tell the conversation happened at A Late Hour At Night.

i gave him a single lower lash this sticks out stylishly and totally didn't give him natural polar bear eyeshadow, I also like to think that he's somewhere on the aro ace spectrum but that might just be me projecting lol

ignore the pic of a compass I stole btw that doesn't matter

i think the design might still have some room for improvement so if I've made it this far lmk if u think it could use any fun touches

(also this guys body type KILLED ME it took me sooo many tries)

ᵃˡˢᵒ ᶦᵏ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵇᵃʳⁿᵃᶜˡᵉˢ ⁿᵃᵐᵉ ᶦˢ ᵏᶦⁿᵈᵃ ʳᶦᵈᶦᶜᵘˡᵒᵘˢ ᵗᵒ ᵃˡᵒᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ, ᵇᵘᵗ ᶦᶠ ᵘ ᵗʰᶦⁿᵏ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᶦᵗ, ᵇʸ ᵖᶦʳᵃᵗᵉ ˢᵗᵃⁿᵈᵃʳᵈˢ ᶦᵗ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ᵃ ᵛᵉʳʸ ˢᶦᶜᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶦⁿᵗᶦᵐᶦᵈᵃᵗᶦⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵒʷᵉʳᶠᵘˡ ⁿᵃᵐᵉ. ᶜᵘᶻ ʸᵏ, ᵏᵉᵉˡʰᵃᵘˡᶦⁿᵍ…

i bet he misses bianca alot poor guy,

also here's my most cursed head canon: he's a polar bear and is often in very warm environments, so y'all think he just like.... cuts and thins his fur?

Im so sorry y'all but I can just imagine him at 2 am just crying next to a pile of his own fur because oh God this is so hard, I imagine the whole process of doing that to ur whole body routinely with tools that break is probably similar to the process of undoing protecting braids for folks who have afro textured hair, but I wouldn know personally I've just heard how much the process can be time consuming and be kinda tiring 0-0

Also I cant believe I haven't mentioned this yet but I think he's like 8 feet tall, which compared to most of his crew being at smallest 4.7 to 5.8 he's just huge compared to them XD. I tried to make like conversions based on irl animals and etc, but the captain is like literally The Tallest A Person Can Be. Like y'all know polar bears are The Largest and Tallest pawed mammals to exist??? like 13 feet tall irl

im just so proud of him he is so compassionate and supportive and cares so much about everyone and everything-

fanny pouch ahh belt

[centuryberry]

lowkwy Highkey need to analyse those visions of the future and past Yue had like

You have no one else to blame but yourself! You did this! You’re the reason why she’s gone-!”

First of all I have so many guesses on who this could be I'm tweaking

“We shall leave it to the Four Guardian Beasts to ensure that balance is kept in the world. This is the only way to keep everyone safe. From them.”

Like those guardian animals guarding Nuwa's stones in LMK season 5?

From who????

Is this a celestial or is it not a celestial? Maybe Buddha or Guanyin? Or Nuwa? Maybe the Empress Mother

“Erase it. Erase every trace of her until the world forgets her name. I don’t care how you do it! Just erase it all!”

Jade Emperor dur

“Not my son! Please! Have mercy on my son! He has done nothing to offend you! Why are you doing this? And you! How can you call yourself a father when you’re standing aside and letting them–?”

Are they talking about Red Son here or someone else?

Sons: Nezha, Redson, MK, Ao something, one of the twins (but I doubt it)

“Look at what they’ve done to him! A pale shade of what he was! This isn’t justice, this is about control! My love, this is not the time to be careful. This is the time to –”

PIF is that you??

“Uncle! You have gone too far with this! They are just–!”

Nezha what happened?

Is he a thrall pls say nah

“I am sorry, my child. I have failed you.”

This is so vague 😭

Deadass could be anyone with a child and I'm too tired to write that my top 5 though: Nuwa, PIF, Empress Mother, Ao Lie, or literally any other parent.

“ – stay dormant through generations as long as the rings are secure and hidden. And before you say anything, this was because of your mistake. This wouldn’t be happening if you hadn’t intervened! This is the best outcome considering the circumstances. For the good of–”

Whos mistake?

Also who or what's staying dormant? The Samadhi Fire?

Honestly the Samadhi fire prolly most likely gonna play a big ass role in this ice zombie apocalypse lmao they're literally White Walkers like the ones from Game of Thrones

“...seal…under the mountain…”

The Bull fam or Wukong

“ –spreading uncontrollably! It can’t be contained! At this rate, this will reach–!”

The infection

now for the futureee wtfd wjqkwbkqkq

"We remember. Even when Heaven wants us to forget you, we will always remember. Even after all the temples were destroyed, we still lit a candle for you.”

We know that was Ma about our girl

“...banished some, executed the others, and subdued the rest. We didn’t understand everything that was happening since we were so young, but we knew that much. So much suffering…”

The twins most likely

😭 give them their talkkkk

“...Island…Lantern…Moon…Scroll…find them all and release…from his shackles...”

Island - Wukong? Similar to the LMK series where flower fruit moment is

Lantern - Macaque oof he is probably been stuck their for centuries imagine waking up and your family's gone to shit most are dead or basically dead, your kids are grown up without you yikes.

I mean it's the same for the rest of them too yikes but damn the guilt from the parents is gonna be real

I thought this wasn't gonna be another major angst fic 😭

Curse you! There better NOT be major character death if any of my hoe's die PERMANENTLY like in "With a Little Soul That Could" imma find where you live 😭 and force you to rewrite that shit now

“Foolish child! This is greater than your petty grudges and old wrongs!”

Damn who we talking to?

“Learn your place, you filthy animals.”

I got nothing a celestial maybe?

“...even…fall…nothing lasts forever…never forgave…”

I feel like I should know but I don't

“Because I love you so much, I’ll give you a hint. What’s the lucky number? C’mon, babe, this is easy stuff! You’re the one who taught me, remember? What’s the lucky number?”

🤯😱

Xiaotian Fragment that you?!!!!

Or is it like those Tony stark pre death hologram videos

One of his clones?

Is it Xiaotian or am I tripping?

“...this world isn’t worth saving…”

Huh.

Lowkey highkey very ominous

Isn't that what Yue and LBD were thinking?

Can Yue hear thoughts or did someone say this aloud?

“Godkiller.”

Our Queen Yue 🎉

I cannot believe I am following another fic of yours 😭 I love it though incredibel writing and the foreshadowing is actually insane

You can't stOP mE frOm makinG My TheORies

Oh my god, "Little Soul" mention on a Tuesday morning???? I can't believe you followed me from the Undertale fandom to the LMK fandom.

Well, as a veteran of my older works, I'll briefly step away from my "no spoiler" stance to reveal this: Queen of the Mountain will have a happy ending. None of that bittersweet tragedy. It will have a happy ending. I will not kill off anyone important to Yue. The Monkey Fam will be together again. (Honestly, I wrote myself into a corner when writing "Little Soul" so I had to pick between forcing a happy ending or keeping the integral message even if the ending was tragic. That won't happen again. I've written so, so many fluffy AUs as an apology for that ending.)

Now, onto the commentary about your theories: These are super detailed! I love the thought you put into your guesses and your comments! We'll see how many of these theories come true in the coming chapters!

[rasafcrged]

Others may have been annoyed by the sudden interruption -- intrusion, in point of fact, but Elizabeth merely blinked in the direction of the elegantly manicured nails that interrupted her field of vision, rifling through the pages of the text that she had been absorbing, an amused tilt of a brow shifting upwards as her gaze skipped up to study said ... intrusive force.

She considered her reply for a moment before offering it. Technically, most of the texts that had been hoarded away in back room password protected libraries like this had not been digitized in any way, which meant the only way she'd gain access to their knowledge was hands on, and she was an avid hoarder of knowledge of all makes and models... but everything that she was reading was purely for the sake of her own interests, so ---? "Technically, I suppose, you would say all three, but between you, me and the walls, I'd have to confess ... mostly pleasure."

Words and illustrations twist, a brief maelstrom, jumbled by an elegant touch. French-tips drag along the page that the other was just poring over, panted lips mouthing along without a sound. Once her silent recitation is at an end, she withdraws her hand, without making the first move to right her rude approach.

Faded blue eyes almost dare them to say something as she coolly regards the only other company they have in the archive. But she raises her chin, gold curls dragging back over her shoulders.

"Interesting selection," Susan notes dryly. "Is this academia, pleasure, or novelty?" // open. SUSAN HOWARD.

[noriashifts]

Haiii I hope you're doing great. I feel like I'm stuck on my journey and I need some advice. I used to shift a lot last year and I kinda got into a slump and now it's like I have no clue on what to do. When I try to shift like the past it seems to not work and I really really really really need to shift in like the span of 3 weeks because if I don't I might be screwed. What should I do? Dead ass.

HOW TO GET OUT OF YOUR SHIFTING SLUMP: NORIA 101

*reminder that this is based off of personal experience and the information I have received*

NOTE: Random thought before I get into this but “Oh No!” by Marina and the Diamonds describes this feeling PERFECTLY, but back to the main course.

This feeling is normal, and there are many people who feel or have felt the same way as you. I just want you to know that you are more than just reality shifting. Besides all these ideologies everyone has about our soul’s, regardless of that you’re a person and an overall human being with emotions, feelings, and a life. You are more that “just” a reality shifter or your consciousness with many, MANY unique traits, don’t force yourself to conform to being just anything, give yourself some credit. if you’ve done it once you could do it again.

now I’m going to tell you how, while this isn’t full-proof, you should carry this ideology to most situations in life where you feel like you have tried hard and “failed”;

1 ) REST; you need time to recover and rejuvenate yourself. take about 3+ (however many you want) days to meditate and level yourself.

2 ) REFLECT WITHOUT JUDGEMENT; again give yourself credit, you have done this in past and you can do it again. this is when you question and trace your steps of your shifting journey.

3 ) RESET; this is when you will start shifting to your desired realities again. there are two ways that I go about it after taking a break. way one is I start off with a “better cr” that’s only slightly a slight tweak from my original reality (ik tumblr doesn’t like that word but they’ll be fine), in my opinion, this helps with visualization, think of it as baby steps. or you can just dive headfirst into it and shift to one of your main desired reality’s. it’s all about preference and whatever floats your boat. also try new methods, just because you are used to something that doesn’t mean that it’s always going to work for you. Change is a good thing. Remember that.

I Hope this made sense and if you want me to clarify anything lmk. HAPPY SHIFTING!!!

divider is from @sweetparty

[elliereject]

ifhy .2

* in which ellie’s obsession relationship with you begins to sour as your romance with your new boyfriend seems to flourish. it seems she’ll stop at nothing to ensure your happiness, (which you’ll find with her, obviously) even if it means hurting you in the process.

* lowkey obsessive ellie, ellie beats someone up, angst + comfort (next chapter(s), infidelity, unrequited feelings yet also mutual pining (just read it like, idk idk I forgot how to do these),lmk if I missed anything!

* HELLLLLOOOO!? oh my god 100 likes on part 1 and over 100 followers??? ty? so much?? <3 the next parts almost done so I gotta tweak some things but I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! I meant to post this like 2 days ago but I fell asleep editing…

* mdni

* wc ~ smth like 1.8k

pt .1 here ★ pt .3 coming soon

“Are you seriously wearing that?” You sighed, flopping back on Ellie’s twin bed.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Ellie asked, eyeing her worn skinny jeans and a black oversized hoodie.

“First, there’s a hole in the side of your hood. Second, you wore that 3 times this week already.”

“No, I didn’t. These are different jeans!”

You groaned, “Ellie it’s a party, live a little.”

She let out a small laugh, “Says you, you were literally on the verge of throwing up like 5 minutes ago. Did whatshisname text you?”

She crossed her fingers in hope that he hadn’t.

You rolled your eyes, “You know his name, and he said he got there about 20 minutes ago and’ll meet me near the living room.”

“Cool, cool.” She said stiffly. “We should probably get going then.”

You jumped up from the bed, practically skipping over to the door. “Finally, you take a surprisingly long time to get ready.”

She didn’t. She was just trying to drag out the amount of time she had before she saw you clinging to your boyfriend and laughing at his stupid jokes.

She was still trying to find a way to show you that he was a dick and she was what you needed but all the ideas she had ended up with him dead and while she was considering it, you probably would have a hard time forgiving her.

The two of you trekked down to the elevator and while your back was turned she couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to slip her hand into yours. How would you react? Would you recoil? Or would you squeeze her palm? Ellie was never really a touchy person yet she made some exceptions when it came to you, however nothing as intimate as hand holding.

And something screamed at her, begging her to try. Her fingers itched by her leg and before she knew it she was stretching out her arm.

Close…so close she could feel the warmth radiating off you.

In a moment you whipped around and she didn’t have enough time to retract her hand.

“What are you doing?” You asked, tilting your head in a way that made her heart ache.

“You just had a uh– a piece of lint.” She lied easily as she picked nothing off your sleeve.

“Oh, thanks! Easier to get rid of then a hole, huh?” You let out a giggle and stuck your finger through said hole, she forced a laugh.

The rest of the ride down Ellie urged herself not to have any more daring thoughts.

Once down, you cracked jokes about your professor and weirdos in your classes, and Ellie tried her best to laugh along, all the way to the frat where the party was being held. Once you made it, you shoved past the sweaty bodies in the living room to look for your boyfriend whilst Ellie shrunk into the kitchen to confide chat with Jesse who was busy chugging a twisted lemonade.

“Jesse. I want you to thank God you aren’t a lesbian.” Ellie groaned, pulling the drink from his lips and taking a swig herself.

“Shit. What happened now?” He sighed, reaching past Ellie to grab another. Ellie’s been moping about you to Jesse for a while now, although he doesn’t really know it’s you because she doesn’t wanna fuck up the way her friends view your guys’ relationship.

“I was walking behind her earlier before we got into the elevat— classroom. And I was like 5 seconds away from grabbing her hand.”

“And why’s that a bad thing? I thought you liked her.” He asked in between sips.

“Because she has a fucking boyfriend! And that would’ve been so embarrassing I think I would’ve bit off my tongue and killed my self right there.”

Jesse let out a low whistle and Ellie crossed her arms. “Don’t you have any advice for me, or are you just gonna stand there?”

The man shrugged, “You’re not gonna like what I have to tell you. Have you tried talking to Joel about any of this?”

Ellie shook her head with a sigh, “He’s busy with work as is, I don’t wanna bother him with this shit when I barely even get to talk to him.”

“Well then, you should prob—hey! ★ what’s up?”

Their conversation was cut short as you walked into the crowded kitchen. With no luck in the living room, you decided to retreat there to talk with your friends while periodically checking your phone for any missed calls or texts.

Ellie noticed the worried look on your face. “Hey, hey. He’ll call. And if he doesn’t he’s a fucking idiot.”

She urged you to try and live in the moment and reassured you again that’d he’d call soon, even though she hoped and prayed he didn’t.

You gave her a small smile and muttered “I guess.” Before taking the red solo cup she offered you and downing it. Eventually, Dina joined your little trio and you temporarily forgot all about him since you were having so much fun chatting with your friends.

Ellie, still smiling, excused herself to the washroom after announcing she had to piss and thank god she did because the scene she stumbled upon literally made her laugh with joy. She had been looking for a reason to beat the fuck out of your boyfriend and did she find it.

After mistaking one of the bedrooms for the washroom—since every fucking door in that house looked the same—her eyes immediately landed on the familiar lanky figure who was shacking up with some tiny brunette bitch.

“No fucking way!” She guffawed, completely amused.

“Please, it’s not—“ Your boyfriend started, pulling his lips from the girl and straightening out his shirt.

“I’ve been looking for a reason to beat your sorry ass! This is just perfect.” She laughed manically as she stomped into the room, slamming the door behind her and cracking her knuckles.

The girl he was previously with was shaken to her core, and practically sprinted out of there. Before he could get out another word, Ellie’s fist was already crushing his face.

“You dick, God I knew you were an asshole but this is just—wow! Cheating on her when she is most definitely the best you could ever do?” Another punch and he was on the ground.

Blood was leaking from his nose and his lip was split. Suddenly she was on top of him, her fists flying. His glasses were broken and tears ran down his face pathetically.

She’d bottled up her emotions for so long; her love for you, her jealousy towards him, her anger at the entire situation, that it all muddled together and bursted the bottle, sending shards everywhere.

Ellie has always been an innately intense person, but this, pummelling something that deserved it, someone that she’d been fantasizing about beating the shit out of ever since she’d met them. It felt good.

“Pl-please stop.” He begged, and she halted her fists, but only for a moment.

She scoffed. “Stop? Stop. Man, I should rip your tongue out. Maybe that’ll finally shut you up.”

His eyes widened as he scanned her eyes for any sign of sympathy, of mercy, but all he found was icy green.

“You’re fucking crazy!” He shouted, trying and failing to shimmy her off him.

She shrugged, “Maybe.”

She was about to throw another fist but she heard frantic footsteps speeding toward the room.

“Shit..” She tapped the side of the guy’s face harshly as he was beginning to black out. “Listen, you’re going to get up. Hop out the window and take your ass home, if someone asks what happened say you got jumped. You’re not going to look at ★ again, text her, call, or even breathe near her. Transfer out of her classes and if I even get the idea that you’re thinking of contacting her again, I will find you. And I will rip your tongue out, got it?”

He nodded wildly and she finally got off of him. She watched as he scurried toward the window and hopped out, it was only a few feet, he’d live.

Ellie wiped her stained hands on the inside of her sweater and opened the door just as the brunette from before was about to, she was standing next to one of the frat guys.

“What’s going on?” Ellie said easily, putting a charming smile on her face and hiding her hands in her pocket.

“Where is he?” The brunette asked worriedly.

“Who? It’s just me in here.” Ellie said looking around confused.

The frat boy looked behind Ellie and them at the girl before sighing and turning back around, “Don’t bother me again. Just enjoy the party.”

“B-but—“ She immediately shut up when Ellie shot her a malicious glare.

She strolled out of the room and back toward the main floor to see you sulking on the couch, checking your phone.

“What happened?” She asked, sliding next to you and resting her arm behind you on the cushions.

“He still hasn’t answered.” You pouted.

And for the first time in months she shot you a genuine smile, despite the fact you were talking about him. “I wouldn’t worry about it, don’t think you’ll hear from him anytime soon.”

You smiled at her and she shot you a weird look, “What?” she asked.

“Nothing..you just seem a little happier than usual.” You said, leaning into her arm.

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

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They're open yay omg!! Ok I had a cute idea for Rodrick Heffley if you're up for it! :)

Rodrick x Male!Reader where reader sings him 'boyfriend' by Big Time Rush the same way that Rodrick sang 'baby' by Justin Bieber for that one girls birthday (I literally don't remember her name lol but also it doesn't have to be his birthday) but like, it doesn't end as badly as it did for him lmao

Idk if they should be an established relationship between him and reader or if this is like readers confession so ill let you choose what you feel like writing for!

Boyfriend (Rodrick Heffley X Male!Guitarist!Reader)

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Summary: While waiting for your friends to show up to band practice, you decide to show Rodrick a new song you’ve been working on.

A/N: this is my first time writing for rodrick so pls lmk how i did! au where reader wrote ‘boyfriend’ instead of btr (with a few tweaks). rodrick and reader are in the talking stage (i dont wanna say situationship but ig that works lol) but their friends dont know about it. the only instrument i know about is the violin so sorry if i get anything wrong. also i think doing singing in stories/fics is kinda weird/awkward but whatever lol

***

You always cherished the few minutes you had alone with Rodrick during band practice. Sure, you liked your other friends. But there was something about being able to watch Rodrick not put on the whole ‘bad boy rocker’ persona that he was used to wearing. Around you, he felt like he could wind down and not think as much.

Although, he didn’t think too much in the first place.

“I think we have a real shot at winning this talent show,” Rodrick said, drumming a beat on your thigh as he watched you tune your guitar. “We just need to practice more.”

“Well, I think we sound fine right now.”

“We don’t need to sound fine; we need to sound great!”

“Chill out, Roddy.” You said gently, putting a hand on his shoulder. “It’s a month away; we have plenty of time.”

“Don’t call me that.” Despite his words, the corner of Rodrick’s lip twitched up at the nickname. You were the only one who called him that. At first, he didn’t like it; it wasn’t a hardcore rocker name. But soon, he found himself getting giddy at the softness of it. “I guess you’re right, though.” 

Rodrick strummed his fingers across the strings of your guitar, laughing when you slapped his hand away.

“Work on anything new lately?” He asked, looking up at you from his hunched-over position. Along with being the guitarist, you were one of the main songwriters in Löded Diper, having many one-on-one writing sessions with Rodrick. That’s how the two of you grew closer, going from childhood friends playing on slides to somewhere between friends and something more, playing songs. Secret handshakes turned to lingering touches, and loud laughs turned to whispered jokes.

You were a bit hesitant to answer. You had been working on some new songs, but they didn’t exactly fit the Löded Diper brand. They were love songs, most, if not all, written with Rodrick in mind. 

“Kind of.” You finally say, picking at a frayed edge of your jeans. Rodrick perked up, always loving your new material.

“Yeah? Show me!”

“It’s not exactly like the stuff we play.” You argue, a bit anxious at the thought of Rodrick hearing what you had been toying with recently. “Besides, it’s not finished.”

Rodrick just shrugged, leaning back in his seat.

“Show me anyway.”

You hated how you could never say no to those eyes. You sighed and finally agreed, fiddling with your guitar while trying to remember the chords.

“No laughing.” You say.

“When do I ever laugh at you, Y/n?”

“All the time.” With that, you started playing. You gave Rodrick a nervous glance before clearing your throat and singing.

“Have you ever had the feeling you’re drawn to someone?

And there isn’t anything they could of said or done?

And everyday I see you on your own

And I can’t believe that you’re alone

But I overheard your friends and this is what they said”

Looking over at Rodrick, you saw him intently listening. Any other time, you’d be prideful of the fact that all his attention was on you. But right now, it made you wanna run. But you stayed planted in your seat and continued with the song.

“That you’re looking for a boyfriend

I see that, gimme time, you know I’m gonna be there

Don’t be scared to come put your trust in me

Can’t you see all I really want to be

Is your boyfriend

Can’t fight that

Knock me down you know I’m coming right back

I don’t care at all what you done before

All I really want is to be your

Boyfriend”

You let the last chord ring out before you set your guitar down and cleared your throat.

“So, yeah…” Rodrick kept staring at you. “That’s… the song.”

Rodrick scooted closer to you, and you lifted your head to face him eye-to-eye.

“Did you write that about me?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. You bit your lip, watching how his hair fell from the movement.

“Depends.” You say, taking a deep breath. “Did you like it?”

Suddenly, Rodrick laughed. It made you stiffen, but you soon relaxed when he put a hand on the back of your neck.

“You’re so corny, dude.” He said before closing the gap between you. 

After the shock washed away, you gripped at his hair and ratty t-shirt, wanting to keep him close. You had come close to kissing Rodrick a few times, mainly while drunk at parties that you shouldn’t have been at or during writing sessions that eventually got interrupted by Rodrick’s younger brother Greg. But those close moments didn’t prepare you for how good the real thing felt.

When you parted, you rested your forehead on Rodrick’s as the two of you caught your breath. You opened your eyes and moved back a bit so you could see him clearly.

“So…” You start, not knowing what to do from here. “Are you looking for a boyfriend?”

“Sure.” Rodrick snorted before kissing you again.