#so interested to see what it is she can actually do

[cherienymphe]

Camera Shy

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Your brother comes up with a way to make fast money when you've found yourself deep in debt.

warnings: stepcest, loss of virginity, breeding kink, kook!reader, non canon ages

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

⭑

You took deep breaths through your nose as Rafe instructed, lashes fluttering at the foreign and indescribable feel of his cock sliding between your wet folds. Your knees touched your chest, the soles of your feet pressed against Rafe’s own chest, and when you looked up at him, you found his gaze focused on where he disappeared into you.

When your brother came up from Kildare County to visit you for the first time this semester…

This was not what you had in mind.

Blood related or not, Rafe had never been anything but the older brother you were blessed with when your mom married his dad all those years ago. He was a little rough around the edges—always had been—and you knew that his behavior with you was the exception, not the norm, but it never occurred to you that his reasoning behind that went beyond familial affection. Why would it?

He treated you like any normal brother would.

He scared off boys who were a little too bold with their interest in you, he sometimes let you sleep in his bed when the thunder outside got to be too much, and he didn’t think twice about picking you up from some party you weren’t supposed to be at. You knew he’d do the same for Wheezie if she asked. Sarah was the only exception for less than enviable reasons.

…maybe Ward’s favoritism of Sarah contributed to your own soft spot for Rafe.

Anyone with eyes could see it no matter how much Sarah liked to pretend otherwise, and there’d been so many times you felt sorry for the oldest Cameron. No, he wasn’t perfect by any means, and yes, sometimes he absolutely deserved the verbal lashing from Ward, but you’d be a fool to deny the absolute disregard Ward gave Rafe even when he did try.

Rafe just wasn’t anyone’s favorite.

…so he became yours.

“You’re doing good,” he murmured, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You blinked up at him, and his gaze lifted from your breasts to meet your gaze.

“Like this?” you breathlessly wondered, a hand on your chest, massaging a hardened bud between your fingers.

“Don’t ask me,” Rafe purred, his free hand joining yours. “Does it feel good?”

The nod you gave him was shaky, and you watched Rafe’s tongue dart between his lips. He dipped his hips a tad when he thrust into you, making you gasp at the feel of his cock hitting something inside of you that you didn’t know was there. When he shined the camera light in your face briefly, you turned your head.

“Sorry,” he choked out, but he didn’t sound all that sorry. “I’ll blur that out.”

His thrusts had your toes curling, and you pushed your feet against his chest.

“I don’t…I don’t want Ward or someone else to find this and know it was me,” you struggled to say, breath hitching when Rafe slammed into you.

Rafe replied after some time.

“Don’t worry, angel,” he whispered. “They won’t.”

Angel.

It was funny how a normal nickname that you were used to hearing all the time sounded so different, now. Of course, all the other times, Rafe had never been inside of you. He’d been dropping you off somewhere or convincing you to do the dishes instead or looking for you the minute he woke up at twelve in the afternoon. Now, with Rafe plunging his cock into you, the sound of it made you shudder.

“It’s kind of crazy how fitting that nickname is,” Sarah said one day. “…because I swear you’re the only one that can actually get Rafe to behave.”

You both chuckled at the comment, but now you were doing anything but laughing.

Your free hand trailed down to touch yourself, and Rafe made a noise of approval at the action.

His hand left your breast to cover yours between your legs, guiding your fingers and rubbing them over your bundle of nerves. The feeling—when combined with his thrusts—made you flutter around him, and Rafe let out a deep moan. It went straight to your stomach, loving the sound, and you looked up at him.

His gaze wasn’t on you anymore, and as you stared at him, you were surprised how weird you didn’t feel about this.

Going off to UNC had sparked varying reactions in your household. Rose was only happy for you, Wheezie too, but both Sarah and Ward held some concerns you never even knew they had. Something about your sheltered upbringing and wondering if you were ready. You’d been offended, of course. After all, going off to college had always been the plan and Ward knew that, so being treated like some child baffled you.

However, you were even more baffled when Rafe didn’t back you up.

“What do you mean?” you’d asked him the day you got your acceptance letter. “You don’t want me to go…?”

Even though Rafe was silent for a long time, you could see it on his face.

He didn’t want you to go.

“It’s so far-.”

“It’s four hours,” you’d interrupted, in disbelief that Rafe of all people was not on your side.

“It’s far enough.”

You remembered thinking how much he resembled a child—pouting—and you’d huffed. You hadn’t been able to stop the tears from kissing your eyes, and you’d folded your arms over your chest.

“Why aren’t you happy for me?” you’d asked in a small voice.

That had Rafe looking up, and you didn’t miss the way his face fell with one look at your own.

“I am,” he’d assured you. “I’m so happy for you, but… What if something goes wrong? What if some asshole gets too aggressive with you? I’m not going to be there to pick you up from parties and hold your hand when a hurricane comes through.”

You’d looked down, shifting on your feet.

“I know that, Rafe…but I’m an adult, now. I have to figure things out for myself.”

You could tell he hadn’t liked that answer, but despite how much Rafe made it clear that he didn’t want you to go, he did help you pack before the semester started. He’d also helped you move in with Ward and Rose’s help, surprising them both.

“Don’t think I won’t be dropping in unannounced.”

Rose had scolded him that day, but you’d only rolled your eyes. You were used to Rafe’s protectiveness, and as much as you desired independence, you couldn’t deny how much you enjoyed the thought of Rafe visiting you on campus.

…and visit you, he did.

It was almost admirable, really, the way he managed to swoop in at some of the most inconvenient times. The night you were considering going to some party or the night you’d gotten locked out of your house or the time your roommate had guys over. The memory of that evening still weighed on your chest, recalling the way Rafe hovered and the way the guy you were supposed to be set up with was forced to keep his distance.

“You were scaring him,” you’d whined later that night.

“…and you want a guy that jumpy?” he’d snorted, taking off his shirt and relaxing on your bed.

Rafe had overstayed his welcome and had no choice but to stay the night. Granted, a hotel was always an option, but you would’ve felt shitty making him book a hotel when you had a perfectly fine queen-sized bed.

“If some chump is that intimidated by your big brother, then he isn’t the one for you,” he’d whispered in the dark as you faced him. “You’re the kind of girl who needs looking after.”

The words had soured in your mind, and you hadn’t responded.

You hated that Rafe saw you that way—that almost everyone did—but it was only some months later when you were forced to admit that maybe Rafe was right. Being so far away from home for an extended period of time for the first time in your life clearly got to your head. You found yourself confronted with so much temptation and opportunities.

Before you knew it, you’d maxed out two credit cards and was struggling to make ends meet with the extra money Ward and Rose were sending you. The day your payment was declined while in some fancy store was burned into your brain, and you hadn’t even realized how much debt you’d collected until you were on the phone with a representative from the company.

The whole situation sucked, but more than anything, it sucked that you proved everyone right.

Especially Rafe.

So, when he unexpectedly showed up on your doorstep this morning, you wanted to be sick.

“Rafe,” you’d breathed. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

The blond had silently stood at your door, expression unreadable, and it had taken him a minute to finally reply.

“You never know I’m coming,” he’d drawled, brushing by you. “What makes this time so different?”

“No reason,” you’d hurried to say.

You suspected then that he caught onto something being wrong, but you’d forced yourself to write it off. Despite engaging in conversation with you, you hadn’t missed the way Rafe strode about your place, those blue eyes of his taking everything in with an attention to detail you weren’t used to.

“So, why are you here?” you’d wondered.

Your question gave him pause, and you hadn’t missed the glint in his eyes then.

“What…?” he’d asked, nearing you. “I can’t drop in on my baby sister and see how she’s doing?”

He’d held your gaze with an intensity you weren’t used to, and you’d looked away.

“No, of course, you can. I was just…curious.”

You should’ve known that Rafe knew more than he let on when he opened your fridge and merely hummed at the lack of food in it. For obvious reasons, you didn’t protest when he suggested ordering food, and it was when you found yourself leaning against the counter with a handful of pizza did he finally drop the bomb.

“You’re lucky I pay more attention to the mail than they do.”

His biting words were accompanied with the slam of a few envelopes on the counter, and your heart dropped when you realized what they were—credit card statements. His hands on the counter caged you in, but you could hardly move anyway with how much shock you were in, flipping through them all with parted lips.

It didn’t take him long to start tearing into you.

“I knew this was a bad idea. I knew that at the very least, I should’ve moved up here with you,” he’d sneered.

“Are you going to tell Ward?” you’d tearfully asked him. “If he knew how much I messed up he’d cut me off so fast.”

“He probably should,” Rafe had told you with a frown, making your tears spill over.

He’d softened some at the sight of them, and you’d collapsed on the couch.

“I didn’t even realize I’d been spending so much,” you cried to him. “…and I keep trying to get a job to fix this but I just can’t get hired anywhere.”

At your rambling, Rafe had knelt before you, his hands on your knees as he shushed you. You’d struggled to hold his gaze as he wiped your face, trying to calm you down. When your breathing settled some, Rafe took your hand.

“I can’t imagine you behind somebody’s counter, anyway,” he’d softly said, thumb grazing your skin. “Breaking your back and coming home exhausted. You need to be focused on school.”

“…but Rafe-.”

His hand gently landing on your mouth had you swallowing your words, and you’d blinked at him as he traced patterns into your skin.

“Look, I know how to get you money—plenty of it and fast.”

His words had given you pause, making you perk up some.

“…but you’ll have to trust me,” he’d murmured.

You did trust Rafe, with your whole heart, but his next words still made your heart drop.

“Rafe…I don’t think I can do this,” you found yourself whispering an hour or so later, swallowing at his gentle grip on your throat. “

…besides, we… I mean…”

You didn’t have to finish voicing your thoughts, troubled gaze meeting his.

“It’s just a little way to make you fast money. It’s not like anyone will know it’s us…” he’d murmured, lips brushing yours. “…and it’s not like we’ll be running the risk of accidentally having questionable children or something.”

You knew what he meant, understood what he was getting at, but it still felt…wrong to you. Or at least, like it should be. Rafe had never been anything other than the brother you met years ago, and here he was, kissing you and convincing you to let your first time be with him…and on camera, no less.

“People love that amateur porn shit,” were his oh so eloquent words.

Despite how you initially felt about it, you still found yourself on your back and bent at the edge of your bed while Rafe stood before you, phone in hand. His words of encouragement filled your ears as he circled your clit with his thumb, the head of his cock slowly pushing into you. He’d had his face between your thighs for some time before that, telling you he needed to get you nice and ready for him.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he’d hissed as he continued to push his way into you.

When he was flush with you, both of your chests heaving, he finally acknowledged the elephant in the room.

“You okay, angel?”

It wasn’t as painful as you always expected it to be—you surmised that had more to do with Rafe than anything—but there was still a dull painful ache accompanied by the burn of being stretched out. At your shaky nod, Rafe merely gave you a half smile, leaning over to kiss you before straightening and starting a torturously slow pace.

“Do you hear how wet you are? Hmm?”

You could, and you might’ve been embarrassed if it weren’t for the look on Rafe’s face.

“So wet…and tight…and all mine,” he breathed, the phone light bright as it shone on where you greedily sucked him in with every thrust. “She’s dripping for me.”

You felt like you were in a blissful daze, lying there and taking his thrusts. Rafe had a way with words and making you squirm from more than just the feel of him stuffing you full.

“They’d pay big money to see me fill you up, angel.”

You slowly blinked at him, frowning slightly and not understanding him at first. However, when his free hand left your clit alone and instead reached for himself, realization hit you.

“Rafe…”

Your tone held warning, but Rafe pulled out anyway, a hand on his cock as he leaned in to press his lips to yours again. What a strange way for you to realize that not only did you like kissing, but you liked kissing Rafe.

“It’s going to look so good on camera,” he purred. “Just thinking about my cock twitching as I come inside of you…pulling out and watching it all drip out of that virgin pussy…”

The thought did have you clenching down on air.

“It’s your first time… You should know what that feels like—to get fucked raw.”

Your lack of protest boldened Rafe, and you felt out of control when the tip of him touched you again, only without latex between you this time. He was slow to slide into you, a groan escaping him the same time you moaned as you both basked in the feel of his bare cock fitting snugly inside of you. You threw your head back, and Rafe told you to keep touching your breasts.

You couldn’t deny the difference as he slowly rutted into you. The camera shined light on your stomach and chest and back down again as he moved the phone. His now powerful thrusts turned you into a wanton mess, absentmindedly massaging your nipples in time with his hips. Rafe’s free hand was on you again, rubbing your mound and folds and clit, occasionally spreading you further to really get a good look at the way his cock pushed into you.

The squelch of your core was loud, and you could feel the way you were dripping around him.

Your bed squeaked under the weight of his thrusts, and the feel of skin against skin was sending you both spiraling.

“I’m gonna come,” Rafe gasped, his thrusts sloppy and rough as he fucked himself into you.

You felt the same, but you couldn’t really voice it, too focused on trying to breathe despite the fast pace of your heart. When Rafe pressed a hand into your stomach, it sent you over the edge, and the feel of you tightening around him and clenching down on him had him coming too, spilling into you with a loud moan.

Rafe’s thrusts were lazy now as he fucked you both through your orgasms, hips slow as he pushed into you. He only stopped when he softened completely, slow to pull his cock out and drop to his knees. His free hand reached for you, a thumb and index finger on your lips as he spread them.

“Look at that,” you heard him murmur while you fought to catch your breath. “You took me so well, angel.”

One of your feet relaxed on the floor, now while the other rested on his shoulder.

“Push it out for me. Show them how well you milked my cock…”

You didn’t quite understand him, but you did what you thought he wanted you to do. To your surprise, you could feel him leaking out of you, and the noise Rafe made told you he was satisfied.

“Good girl,” he purred, pushing two fingers into you. “You take me so well, you know that?”

He leaned in and kissed your sore lips then, a hum escaping him as he straightened. The camera was now off, and the phone was tossed to the side, but Rafe’s lips still found yours with a moan. Your confusion must have been evident when he pulled away, because he reached up to drag his thumb over your mouth.

“We’ll need to make time to practice if we want the next one to be even better.”

[madamechrissy]

Clan Leader Geto Headcanons

Clan/cult leader Suguru x fem reader- Suguru Geto is the head of HIS clan and totally HATES monkeys, and forced to marry YOU (I see this trope w/Gojo sm - I'm putting Suguru in Satoru's position hehe)

MDNI- explicit sexual content, reader is a virgin but not much is mentioned in it aside from she doesn't know things lol, obsessed Suguru, masturbation (Suguru) oral (f receiving) lowkey hate sex, he calls you a monkey, is an asshole, reader calls him psycho, Geto is bad at feelings lol. comment to get taggedd gonna be a fic soonn

Clan Leader Geto who finds out he's forced to marry a human of all things!? A pathetic, pretty human with absolutely no cursed energy, so he detests you on sight.

Clan Leader Geto is disgusted by the thought of having to be with you, he certainly doesn't want to kiss you at the wedding. Sure he sleeps with members of his cult, and he can see you're gorgeous, but mortals just have no pull for him. When you're walking up in these pretty white robes for their wedding day, he tries not to even look in your direction.

Clan Leader Geto doesn't realize you are terrified, you've heard just how insane this curse user is, and you certainly don't want to be with someone like this. Sure, he's a beautiful man, his long silky black hair, his violet eyes that land on you for just a moment, he's tall and has the perfect jaw line, but you can't be interested in him, when full of fear. But, you must do your duty.

Clan Leader Geto leans down and gives you a perfunctory kiss as you all get married, you see all the women who are obsessed with him whispering about you, making you lower your head, as Suguru tries to figure out just what it was that he felt from you, glaring and grabbing your wrist. 'do you have any cursed energy?' you pull back your hand. 'you already know the answer' so why then does he feel something odd from your energy!?

Clan Leader Geto decides to ignore whatever thoughts those are, laughing and having a goblet of wine as he talks amongst the actual people that matter, the people with cursed energy, and unfortunately the members of the Geto clan, who annoy him to no end. But he tolerates them, as they help him garner more power, after all. When he sees someone dancing along with you at the party, something makes his jaw clench, and why!?

Clan Leader Geto is forced to have to spend the night in the luxurious room they have set up for the two of you, he walks in and sees you in some translucent nightgown, which hits him in the gut, and he can't really figure out why, except he is a man, and his body is reacting, but he just narrows violet eyes at you, while you're brushing your hair in the mirror. You stand up nervously, giving him just a little lowering of your head, before you look at him with frightened eyes, he chuckles a bit, undoing his green and gold belt, then untying his hair, letting it fall softly.

Clan Leader Geto steps to you with an open robe, showcasing a strong chest and defined abdomen, his perfect skin stretched to fit such muscles, stepping closer as he assesses you, murmuring 'guess we should get this over with' your heart beats out of your chest, completely unsure of just what that entails aside from what you've heard, you've been very sheltered as his promised bride. 'must we?' you ask, earning his mean laugh. 'I don't want to anymore than you do, monkey' you glare now, undoing your gown and letting it fall to your feet, watching his thin nostrils flare, his lips part.

Clan Leader Geto is momentarily stunned at the sight of your body, cock already straining in his pants, he instantly hates you more for your stupid effects, as you step to the futon, decorated in blacks and reds, spreading your legs and showing a perfect, pretty little pussy making his mouth water, not that he'd admit it. He disrobes and you see his cock, huge, he steps forward, grabbing you by your hair then, tilting your chin up. 'Do you even know what to do?' your jaw clenches, as he leans forward, the prick of him pulling your hair making you want to cry out in pain. 'no, I do not, but I'm ready'

Clan Leader Geto chuckles, pressing you pack and grabbing you by your hips, before sucking on his two fingers, lewd as his cheeks hollow, then sinking them in your cunt, making you cry out at the stretch. He is cursing internally that you're that tight, because he won't in fact fit easily. 'Tsk, now I'll have to prep a monkey, detestable' you gasp at him, hips arching up 'and I have to fuck a psycho, detestable' at that Suguru snaps, curling his fingers up and hitting some spot that makes you gush down his fingers, as he scissors them faster and faster, nipping at your breasts, earning your smack and his glare 'you dare smack me?' you panic, realizing your folly, but he's hitting some spot that feels too good, so now you're panting, as his cock is leaking precum, ready to slip inside

Clan Leader Geto sinks into your tight entrance, he gives you no mercy or room to adjust, eyes dilated as he sinks so deep you're screaming out, nails digging into his biceps, still scowling at him 'get it o-over with' you whisper, he tries to stifle a moan at how good you feel, better than anything, wondering just what the fuck you are. 'oh, so done with me already, monkey?' he taunts, pumping in and out of your tight little cunt then, and you ignore how good it starts to feel, holding in every sigh, just glaring 'just give me your heir quickly' he loses himself then, burying his face in your neck, there he can allow his eyes to shut in ecstasy, as he fucks into you, feeling your walls flutter despite your words

Clan Leader Geto wants to hear your moans but you refuse out of spite, but when he leans up and pushes up your thighs, and his huge, veiny length is hitting your cervix, you have to cover your face, earning him yanking your wrists down. 'I'll look upon you' he pins your wrists up, fucking harder and harder until you can't stop the orgasm that happens, making you whimper, eyes rolling back, mouth open in this slutty O, and Suguru can't take how sexy you look, he busts so deep inside you, cumming more than he ever has, loads of hot sticky white ropes deep, and he pauses then, as your eyes lock on each other, just staring at you for far too long before you glare 'you're all done, could you get off me?'

Clan Leader Geto fucks you the next night, but he's tired of you acting like you don't like it, so he leans back on his knees, seeing the bulge of his cock in your tummy, finding your clit with his thumb and watching you fall apart, thighs clenching his hips as you whine pathetically. 'stop that!' he chuckles now 'why, monkey?' you grip his wrist, feeling the climax starting, the pressure in your tummy when he rolls it in circles 'just cum inside me, stop doing th-that!' Suguru can't stop, not when he watches you fall apart, feels you cumming all over his cock, no he needs to get you off again. Using it as an excuse to keep cum inside you, he's fingering his cum back in you the next night, making you jerk and twitch, and then he realizes he just needs more.

Clan Leader Geto can't STOP thinking about fucking you again, and again, to the point he's got you in his office, fucking up into you leaned back in his seat, then he decides no he needs more, and he's got you cockwarming him as he starts his cult meetings. He toys with your clit as you soak his cock, chuckling in your ear - 'you're so slutty now, huh' earning you clenching your pussy so tight he almost busts, scowling at you. You hate him more when he's licking your pussy soon, you're yanking dark locks, the feel of his tastebuds in your pussy is far too much 'this isn't how heirs are m-made, just f-fuck me, you psycho' you try to detatch his mouth, but it's already sucking on your clit, as he gets this taste of you, he's ended, and can't stop, only pulling up with glossy lips and dilated eyes to smirk up at you 'it'll help make... heirs, foolish monkey' you shake your head and he's chuckling as he's lapping up your wetness 'orgasms help it take, hmm?'

Clan Leader Geto finds every opportunity to eat out his new bride, with the intention of course of getting her pregnant sooner! there is no other reason, he justifies, couldn't be that your taste drives him insane, or feeling your walls quivering around his tongue makes him cum from just that, soon you're just getting eaten out and he's not fucking you, making you cum over and over on his mouth, whenever he asks you to see him, that's what he's doing, and you're starting to forget how awful he is, your stupid head too fucked up from orgasms. His assistant walks in on his head buried between your thighs, the one he used to fuck actually, and she clears her throat as Suguru looks at her and glares - 'what- m'busy' you close your legs nervously, adjusting your robes as the assistant sighs 'we have that cult meeting, Mr. Geto' he frowns, because he'd rather eat you out than do that, and you remember then, he's horrible and psychotic, and hop off, leaving in a rush.

Clan Leader Geto finds you crying later because the people in his group are calling you worthless, a monkey, this and that, things he calls you, but for some reason he's infuriated, as he sees tears streak down your face 'I hate it here! I do!' you're shutting him out now, as you realize you're the only human in a place full of people who don't want you to exist, mainly your husband, a husband although you've had sex with countless times, you have never even kissed, a husband who hates you. After ignoring him for weeks, he begins to jerk off to the thought of you, begins to take your underwear and lick it, as he strokes his cock, ignoring every advance, too stubborn to admit he wants more with you. How can he!? You're a stupid monkey after all, so he just keeps pleasuring himself as you pull away, as you lock your door, until you finally come in and say - 'I'm pregnant, it's... we don't have to again' and Suguru drops to his knees.

So this will be a long oneshot or mini series- Suguru is gonna be an asshole cult leader but down bad for you, a MONKEY lmfao, some hate sex FOR SURE, lmk if you wanna get tagged when it's out <3

Permatags: @alt--er--love @seeing-stars-alt @indiewritesxoxo @nanasukii28 @makingtimemine @cuntphoric @loafteaw @aldebrana @n1vi @miizuzu @beachaddict48 @honeybunnnnie @re-tired-succubus @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @wise-fangirl @moncher-ire @orikixx @uhnosav @baepsays  @designerpvssy @orixxxana @jinjen and tagging @norikuna bc it's Sugu hehe

[scentedluminarysoul]

SOMETIMES IT'S ON PURPOSE OKAY I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S CALLED BUT SOMETIMES YOU REPEAT THE SAME WORD OR PHRASE ON PURPOSE IT'S A STYLISTIC CHOICE

Ahem. Also. You don't need to thesaurus every word. It's fine if you call a table a table multiple times

Honestly, writing has become so complicated and everyone's a critic and don't you DARE use the same word twice or start a sentence with "he" twice in a row!

Can we go back to actually caring about SUBSTANCE? About what it's trying to tell you?

I'm currently reading Agatha Christie's "And Then There Were None" from 1939. It's written so SIMPLY and yet it's so good and just effective in what it does.

Do you know how often it says "(character name) said:" and then just the dialogue? That's the vast majority of how her dialogues work. Simple, easy to understand, no confusion as to who's talking.

It's not fancy, and yet she's one of the best writers to have ever existed

I mean, look at this:

It's just a simple dialogue that keeps going like that.

One of the most repeated writing advices you read is "make your dialogue interesting", like give characters something to in between tags, etc.

But lads—this dialogue is interesting in and of itself. It's intriguing. Why would they also need to juggle chainsaws or low the lawn or whatever?

And the dialogue tag Christie uses most often is "said". Simply "said". Because it doesn't need more.

Here and there are a few hints as to how the characters are feeling ("angrily", "dryly", "after a minute or two"), but it's your job as a reader to UNDERSTAND and INTERPRET them, to THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU'RE READING.

And I think that's the big problem nowadays: people don't want to think about it anymore. TikTok girlies brag about reading 3 books a day, but they don't UNDERSTAND them. That much is clear when you listen to them talk about books

And this is also what people mean that you should read when you want to become a writer. Because you can read all the writing tips ever online, but that will only make you go insane and insecure.

READ and you will see how they're applied. Or not. And even then the book is still good

And no book is perfect or even good from start to finish. There will be dull moments, or misses in even the best books

And you need to see those flaws in order to become a writer

I forgot about that myself.

The key to writing well isn't to use the best and most interesting words perfectly

It's to use the words you have effectively.

Sorry OP, didn't need to rant

But sometimes all these clever "writing tips to become a better writer" are really missing what's truly makes a good writer:

The heart

Of you only count how many times someone used the same word in a paragraph, instead of trying to understand what that paragraph is telling you, you don't care about the art of writing

Actually you CAN use the same word twice in the same paragraph. The same sentence even. If it's funny, if it's for emphasis, if it's harping on a theme, if you're sexy and you do whatever you want forever. Write on

[mapis-putellas]

𝑷𝒐𝒖𝒕/𝑳.𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒂𝒎𝒔𝒐𝒏

Warnings: Mentions of food poisoning and throwing up.

You knew the second you stepped into the kitchen that Leah was up to something. The smell of something burning hit you immediately, followed by the distinct sound of frantic flapping and a string of muttered curses. You leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms as you watched her, her back to you, completely oblivious to your presence.

“Baby?”

Leah jumped, spatula flying out of her hand and clattering against the stovetop. “Jesus Christ.”

You laughed, stepping further into the kitchen as she spun around, clutching her chest. “What are you doing?”

Leah blinked at you, eyes darting to the pan behind her. “Nothing.”

Your eyebrow quirked. “Nothing?”

“Nothing bad,” she corrected, turning back around and hastily grabbing the spatula again.

You peered over her shoulder, hands resting on each of her hips for a second as you eyed the charred remains of what looked like…chicken? Maybe? It was unidentifiable at this point. “Baby, I love you, but that looks like something that belongs in an evidence bag.”

Leah huffed, shoving you away with her hip. “It’s fine.”

“Leah,” you deadpanned, gesturing to the pan. “That is not fine.”

She turned the burner off with a dramatic flourish. “It’s fine enough.”

You gave her a look. “I’m not eating that.”

Leah groaned, shoving you again. “You never let me cook for you.”

“Because you can’t cook,” you said simply.

She gasped, utterly scandalised. “I can cook.”

“No, you attempt to cook,” you corrected, grinning.

She pouted, lower lip jutting out, and you groaned because this was your weakness. Leah knew it too, the way she tilted her head slightly, looking up at you like you’d just kicked a puppy.

“Come on,” she whined. “Just one bite.”

You stared at her. Then at the chicken. Then back at her. “It’s burnt.”

Leah huffed, grabbing a knife and slicing a piece off. “It’s just a little crispy.”

You bit back a laugh. “A little crispy?”

She shoved the piece into her mouth defiantly, chewing aggressively. “See? Fine.”

You watched her, unimpressed. “And how does it taste?”

Leah hesitated. Then, with a strained smile, she said, “It’s…crunchy.”

You laughed, grabbing the plate from the counter. “That’s going in the bin.”

Leah groaned as you dumped her creation into the trash. “You’re so mean to me.”

You turned, wrapping your arms around her waist and pulling her into you. “I love that you try, baby.”

She melted immediately, arms looping around your neck. “Yeah?”

You pressed a kiss to her temple. “Yeah. But I also love my digestive system.”

Leah groaned, shoving you away. “You’re horrible.”

You grinned. “Order pizza?”

She sighed dramatically. “Fine.”

*

The problem was, Leah never learned. Which was how you found yourself staring at the suspiciously pink piece of chicken sitting on your plate a few weeks later. Leah, seated across from you, watched you expectantly, chin resting in her hand, foot nudging yours under the table. “Go on, then.”

You hesitated.

She tilted her head. “You promised.”

You had promised. Stupidly. You’d thought, what’s the worst that could happen?

You swallowed hard, grabbing your fork and spearing a small piece. You inspected it closely. “It’s a bit-”

“It’s fine,” Leah insisted, rolling her eyes.

You frowned, but she was looking at you with so much excitement that you sighed and popped the piece into your mouth. It tasted…okay. A bit chewy. You chewed slower. Okay, no, it was very chewy. And cold.

You swallowed quickly, grimacing at the nauseas feeling that immediately settled in your stomach. “It’s…interesting.” You set down the fork.

Leah beamed, completely oblivious to your inner turmoil. “Told you I could cook.”

You gave her a tight-lipped smile, deciding right then and there that you were never eating her food again. She’d have to kill you first.

You woke up at three in the morning with pain. Not just discomfort. Not just an upset stomach. But an actual, gut-wrenching, kill me now pain. You barely made it to the bathroom before losing your breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Leah, to her credit, was up instantly, stumbling into the bathroom after you looking half-asleep with her hair an absolute mess. “Babe?”

You groaned, forehead against the toilet seat as your hands tightly clutched the porcelain. “I hate you.”

Leah blinked at you, rubbing her eyes. “What?”

You slowly turned your head, glaring at her. “You poisoned me.”

Leah’s eyes widened. “No.”

“Yes.”

She gasped. “I didn’t.”

“You fucking did.”

She crouched down beside you, rubbing your back. “I didn’t mean to.”

You groaned again as another wave of nausea hit, her hand doing little to comfort you. “Never. Again.”

Leah bit her lip, looking way too amused for your liking. “So…no more taste tests?”

You shot her a look. “Leah Cathrine-”

She grinned. “Okay, okay.”

You groaned again, and she pressed a kiss to your temple. “I’ll get you water, darling.”

You glared as she stood. “And a shovel. You can knock me out until this hell is over.”

Leah laughed, heading to the kitchen. “Anything for my girl.”

You groaned again. Never. Ever. Again.

**

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan @ktgoodmorning @chelseacult

[achromatophoric]

Divina: Yoko! What the actual shit?!

Yoko: Babe, it’s not what it looks like!

Divina: Oh really? Cause it looks AND sounds like you’re listening to a recording your best friend blowing out her girlfriend’s back.

Indeed, the vampire sits on her bed with her laptop open and playing what can only be Wednesday’s seemingly indecipherable cries of ecstasy.

Yoko: 😬

Divina: 😠

Divina: *icily* Well?

Yoko: *blurts out* COOKIES! I think. Maybe brownies?

Divina:

Divina: What?

Yoko: Shit. Look, babe, lemme explain. Addams isn’t moaning.

Laptop: *filthy moan*

Divina: 😒

Yoko: *winces* Okay, she IS moaning, but she isn’t just moaning. If you listen carefully—THERE!

Laptop: *gibberish*

Divina: 🤨

Divina: So Wednesday doesn’t make sense when she’s getting railed. Bravo, Enid. Not helping your case, though.

Yoko: I thought the same! But she’s actually speaking in Old Latin—at least this time she is.

Divina: What?

Yoko: Oh, last time it was Sumerian. And the time before that—

Divina: No, I mean what, as in what the fuck?

Yoko: Right. Uh. So long story short, I’ve been recording their erm… their sessions—

Divina: 😡

Yoko: —so I could translate what Wednesday was saying! See? Totally not pervy.

Divina: 😐

Divina: 😤

Divina: *through gritted teeth* Yoko, I swear by the Seven Seas, I am about five seconds from—

Yoko: Recipes! Babe, she’s reciting fucking RECIPES.

Divina: 🤨

Divina: Recipes for what? Disasters?

Yoko: Nope. Recipes for the most mind blowing, absurdly tasty-as-fuck pastries that will ever bless your mouth.

Divina: *incredulous stare*

Divina: You’re telling me that Wednesday Arsenic-is-a-Seasoning Addams recites entire goddamn recipes in dead languages—

Divina: —recipes for ludicrously delicious baked goods, whenever Enid bangs the grumpy out of her?

Yoko: *hopeful* Yes. That is exactly what I’m saying.

Divina: 🤦

Yoko: Babe? Do you need an ibuprofen? That vein is—

Divina: Give me a cookie.

Yoko: Er, what?

Divina: *holds out a hand* Or a brownie. Muffin. Whatever the fuck you made from one of these supposed recipes. If one isn’t in my hand in ten seconds…

Yoko: 😲

Yoko: *scrambles to her desk, rummages, and return with something*

Yoko: Here! Try this! Made this one yesterday.

Divina: *takes the…* Churro. This is just a churro.

Yoko: Trust, babe. I promise you, it’ll all make sense. Just try it.

Divina: *eyes the churro*

Divina: *takes a bite*

Divina: *chews*

Yoko: So whatcha think?

Divina:

Divina: *filthy moan*

Yoko: *relieved fist pump*

Divina: Holy… Holy fucking shit. I think my tongue just came. What the actual fucking fuck?

Yoko: So am I off the hook?

Divina: Off the hook? Babe, imma need more like this, stat. Does she do this every time?

Yoko: Just about. Toughest part is the actual translating.

Divina: I’ll get Bianca’s help.

Yoko: You think she’d be interested?

Divina: Are you kidding me? She once kneecapped me at swim camp over the last cupcake.

Yoko: Yikes. Okay, so wanna help me translate the rest of this one?

Divina: Sure. Do I just try writing the phonetics for this part?

Laptop: *slurred post-orgasm gibberish*

Yoko: *quickly stops the recording* Oh fuck no. NEVER the shit after she comes.

Divina: Why is that? Are those recipes not-so-great?

Yoko: Less recipe, more ritual. I only tried one and that summoned The Bone Gorger.

Divina: 🫢

Divina: How… how’d you get rid of them?

Yoko: Churro.

Divina:

Divina: *wipes away drool* Yeah, that checks out.

[celestialgallaghers]

Double Dare Ya [18+]

I realize this follows a similar pattern to my last post, but I love the enemies to lovers trope what can I say. The truth or dare trope is also overdone but this is MY fictional story and I make the rules.

Also the title is from the Bikini Kill song, which really has no relevance to the plot but popped into my head when I was trying to think of a name for this.

--------------------------------------------------------

Summary: Your friend introduces you to Noel at a club, and you clash with him almost immediately. You want nothing to do with him, but something about your refusal to fall for his charms piques his interest.

Word count: 7.1k

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You were never sure what to expect when Jo invited you out. She was always more outgoing than you, more embedded in the scene, so you’d at least figured it would be a typical night. Loud, chaotic, and full of people who thought themselves far more interesting than they actually were.

What you didn’t expect was Noel Gallagher.

You knew who he was, obviously. Oasis was everywhere. You liked their music well enough, but you never thought you’d come face to face with any of them. Apparently, that was changing tonight.

The club was dimly lit and buzzing with noise when you arrived. Jo spotted some of her friends and immediately dragged you over, squealing as she hugged them. You offered a small wave, recognizing a few faces from previous outings. They weren’t really your crowd. Often fake, too caught up in their own self-importance, and quick to look down their noses at anyone not dressed head to toe in designer.

Jo, at least, was genuine. You’d known her forever, watching as she clawed her way up from nothing to a high class career as an event planner. These people had connections, the kind that could make or break her career. So, as much as you disliked them, you kept your mouth shut.

Sliding into the booth beside her, you already felt out of place. You indulged her with these nights out every so often, but they always ended the same. You’d drink more than intended just to tolerate the company. 

“Noel!” Jo cried suddenly. “This is my best friend.”

You turned just in time to see none other than Noel Gallagher approaching, a leggy blonde in tight clothing clinging to his arm. You weren’t quite sure what to make of him. Instinctively, you were wary of fame. It could go either way. Some celebrities turned out to be just regular people, while others were so self-important they refused to come down from their high horse. Right now, you were inclined to believe Noel fell into the latter category. 

He barely glanced at you, offering a quick nod of acknowledgment before sliding into the seat across from you. “Alright?”

You nodded back, polite but unenthusiastic. You had no real interest in getting to know him. There was an air of arrogant indifference about him that immediately put you off.

Drinks appeared suddenly, and you gladly grabbed one, taking a long sip. This was going to be a long night. 

As the evening dragged on, you found yourself saying less and less. Not because you were shy, but because you couldn’t relate to the conversation. Industry gossip, name-dropping, pointless chatter about who had fallen out with who. It was monotonous.

The blonde Noel was toting around was now perched in his lap, lavishing him with attention. You tried to ignore them, but her incessant (and no doubt fake) giggling cut through any and all conversation, making it impossible. 

Jo and her friends had gone off to dance, and no matter how many times she pouted, you kept turning her down. This left you alone at the booth, spare a few of Noel’s friends at the opposite end and, of course, Noel himself. 

You slid down the booth, making an effort to talk to his friends, but they didn’t really seem interested. Resigning yourself, you leaned back, sipping your drink, half-listening to the conversations around you.

At one point, your gaze flickered toward Noel and the blonde, now fiercely locked in a kiss, if you could even call it that. Her hands roamed over him, and she giggled whenever he squeezed her ass. You knew you shouldn’t be watching really, it felt borderline voyeuristic, but there was something fascinating about the sheer display of hedonism that surrounded the “rock star” ethos. Like he was playing a role simply because he could. Because it was easy. 

Suddenly, as if he was sensing your gaze, his eyes opened and locked onto yours. 

Instinct told you to look away, but you refused to let him intimidate you. Unfortunately, your defiance only seemed to amuse him. His kisses slowed as he lazily caressed the blonde’s breast, clearly testing your reaction.

Your lips pressed into a thin line as you drained your drink, rising to get another. When you returned, the blonde was gone. 

“Care to take her place?” The words stopped you in your tracks. You spun to find Noel smirking up at you. He leaned back, spreading his legs expectantly.

You paused, staring at him in disbelief.

“I’ll pass, thanks,” you said dryly, moving to leave. But before you could, he reached out, fingers wrapping gently around your wrist.

Your gaze dropped to where his hand gripped your arm. His thumb was idly brushing against your skin, as if that alone would entice you. A short, bemused laugh escaped you as you yanked your arm free. 

“You really think you can get any woman to fall at your feet on command?”

“Oh I know I can, love,” he said, tilting his head, regarding you with amusement. “Saw you watching us. I know you're interested.” 

His all-knowing tone and self-satisfied smirk made your blood boil. Despite yourself, warmth crept into your face, but thankfully it was dark enough that he wouldn’t notice. You were starting to wish you hadn’t done that. It had gotten his attention, and now he was running with it. 

You scoffed. “I was only staring because I’ve never seen someone so desperate to prove he’s the archetypical rock star. Do you even know that girl's name?”

He thought for a moment before grinning. “Not the foggiest.”

“My point exactly.” You narrowed your eyes. “You just use women and toss them aside the minute they stop serving a purpose.”

“What can I say?” he said with a shrug, eyes flickering down your body before meeting your gaze again. “Comes with the job title. Sex, drugs, and rock n roll. That’s the package.”

“Yeah, well, you're not as charming as you think, believe it or not,” you shot back, before turning on your heel to find Jo. Dancing was seeming far more appealing than wasting another minute on his arrogance.

Noel watched you go, but you’d made your mark. And he was never one to back down from a challenge. 

Another drink deep, and the atmosphere was starting to suffocate you. You needed fresh air. And a cigarette.

Outside, the night air was sharp against your skin, a welcome contrast to the thick heat of the club. You leaned against the wall, fishing a cigarette from your pack and placing it between your lips. 

You’d just flicked your lighter open when the door swung wide, noise spilling out before it slammed shut again.

“Got one for me?”

You exhaled sharply through your nose. Noel. 

Had he followed you out here? Christ, all you’d wanted was a quiet moment alone.

Glancing at him, you sighed. He stood there, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, as if he already knew you’d say yes.

“All that money, and you don’t have your own?”

He just shrugged, a smirk ghosting over his lips.

You wanted to lie, to tell him it was your last one so he’d leave you alone, but for some reason, you didn’t. With another sigh, you extended your pack.

“Got a light?” His smirk deepened.

“Jesus, want me to smoke it for you too?” you muttered.

You flicked the lighter open and held the flame out for him. He leaned in, taking his time, inhaling slowly as his gaze flicked up to yours. The brief glow of the flame caught in his eyes, making them seem even brighter, more piercing.

He took another drag, eyes closing as he relished the rush of nicotine. For a fleeting second, he wasn’t Noel Gallagher, just a man taking a quiet drag of a cigarette. Just existing.

Then he opened his mouth again. 

“I meant what I said earlier, y'know. ‘Bout replacing her. Think you’d look good in my lap.”

Irritation flared in your chest. “Have I not made it abundantly clear that I’m not interested?”

He didn’t even blink. “Nah. You’re just stubborn.”

You let out a short, incredulous laugh. “You really do think you’re irresistible, don’t you?”

Noel leaned in slightly, dropping his voice to something low and smooth. “I don’t think, love. I know.”

Then, his gaze dipped lower, a slow, deliberate sweep before flicking back up. It was then you realized your nipples had peaked against your top thanks to the chill in the air.

His smirk turned downright wicked.

“Cold?”

You folded your arms across your chest and shot him a glare. “Oh, piss off.”

He laughed, exhaling smoke, eyes glinting with mischief. “I would, but I’m having too much fun.”

“This is fun to you?”

He took another drag from his cigarette, savoring it before slowly releasing the smoke. “Oh yeah,” he murmured, voice low. “Watching you try to pretend you don’t want me? It’s riveting.” 

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “You're deluded if you think this”—you gestured between the two of you—“is me pretending. I’m not interested. You're only here because I’m not giving you what you want.”

He leaned in slightly, voice smooth, teasing. “Maybe,” he admitted. “But I think you're a lot more fun than you let on. Bit of fire under that cool exterior, yeah?”

You met his gaze, a mocking smile tugging at your lips. “Could be. But you’ll never find out.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I’ve got a way of getting to know people, love. You wouldn’t believe the things I can figure out.”

You raised an eyebrow, arms still crossed, tension thick in the space between you. “Is that so? What, you think you’ve cracked the code already?”

He shrugged, taking another drag, eyes never leaving yours. “I think I’m just getting started.” 

He was staring at you in a way that was making your skin prickle and you’d just about had enough. You flicked your cigarette away, crushing under your heel aggressively. 

“Yeah, well, don’t waste your time,” you spat vehemently. “I wouldn’t touch you in a million years.” 

❦ ❦ ❦

A few months later, you got a call from Jo, her voice practically buzzing through the receiver.

“Hey! So, listen I have a plus one for this festival, and you’re coming with me.”

You raised an eyebrow, already suspicious. “What festival?”

“The one Oasis is playing at,” she said brightly.

Your stomach turned. You hadn’t seen Noel since that disastrous night out. The one that had confirmed, without a doubt, that he was exactly the pompous asshole the media made him out to be.

“C’mon, it’ll be amazing! Noel invited us.”

You scoffed. “He invited you. If I never see him again, it’ll be too soon.”

Jo groaned. “Why don’t you like him?”

You blinked. Was she serious?

“For starters, he’s an arrogant prick,” you said flatly.

“Oh, come on! If you actually got to know him, you’d see he’s not really like that.”

You let out a short laugh. “And why the hell would I want to do that?”

“Because,” she said, dragging the word out, “I think he likes you.”

You nearly choked. “Likes me? What gave you that idea?”

“He was flirting with you at that club.”

You scoffed again. “Please, that was all an act. He was just lookin’ for a shag.”

“I dunno,” she sing-songed. “He was asking about you after you left.”

You froze for half a second before shaking your head. “You’re delusional. There’s absolutely no way he was being genuine.”

Jo just hummed, like she wasn’t convinced but also wasn’t going to argue. “Okay, whatever you say.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. Something told you she wasn’t going to drop this.

“So, are you coming or what?”

You hesitated. You did like Oasis—as a band. It was just one particular member you had an issue with. Or, well, maybe two. You hadn’t met Liam yet, and god knows he’d probably be even worse than Noel.

“Fine,” you sighed.

Jo whooped so loudly you had to hold the phone away from your ear.

“This is going to be amazing!”

You exhaled, telling yourself it would be fine. Fun, even. But as you hung up, a weird feeling settled in your stomach.

❦ ❦ ❦

The festival arrived sooner than you’d expected. You planned to avoid Noel as much as feasibly possible. With thousands of people and dozens of bands, it shouldn’t be difficult. Jo had scored passes, and she practically dragged you through the festival grounds, buzzing with excitement as she led the way to the Oasis tent. They weren’t playing until later, and there were plenty of other artists you actually wanted to see in the meantime.

When you arrived, Noel was already there, leaning against a table, cigarette dangling between his fingers as he spoke to a reporter with an air of bored ease. You lingered at a distance, watching the way he gestured with his hands, flicking his cigarette as he spoke. There was something almost effortless about the way he carried himself. Like he knew the world revolved around him.

The interview wrapped up, and before you could make yourself scarce, his eyes landed on you. Jo had gone to grab drinks, and you cursed the timing. You considered walking away, but that felt too much like surrender.

Noel sauntered over, smirk already in place. “Fancy seeing you here, love.”

“I’m just here with Jo to enjoy the festival,” you said dryly, waving your hand in dismissal. 

His smirk deepened. “Just here to enjoy the festival, eh? You don’t exactly look thrilled to see me.”

You scoffed. “And why would I be?”

Noel chuckled, feigning mock hurt. “Oh, I dunno. Maybe it’s because you’re in my band’s tent. You're welcome, by the way,” he teased. “I knew you'd be back for more.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. It was time to shut this down. “Y’know this is why I can’t stand you, Noel. You're so full of yourself that it’s nauseating. You walk around like you expect everyone to kiss your ass just ‘cause of who you are,” you snapped. “Get over yourself.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your outburst, but it didn’t seem to bother him much.

“Sweetheart,” he drawled, “you could hardly keep your eyes off me the last time we were in the same room and you know it.”

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head. “Really? That’s not what I’ve heard. In fact, I think you might be a little obsessed with me.”

Something flickered in his expression, just for a second. “Obsessed with you, huh?” he mused. “I was just tryin’ to show you a good time.”

“I can manage that on my own, thanks,” you shot back, finally turning on your heel. You weren’t sure why you’d even humored him that long. You should’ve walked away ages ago.

The day blurred into music, laughter, and the occasional warm buzz of beer. You and Jo wandered the festival grounds, catching different acts and soaking in the atmosphere. As the sun dipped lower and Oasis’s set time approached, Jo insisted on getting as close as possible—to Noel’s side of the stage, of course.

“I don’t get it,” you mused, genuinely perplexed as you stood beside her. “What do people even see in him?”

Jo laughed, taking a sip of her beer. “You mean aside from the fact that he’s insanely talented, handsome, and successful?”

As if on cue, the crowd erupted as Noel took his place on stage, fingers finding the strings of his guitar with practiced ease.

Jo nudged you. “And he’s got that whole swagger, don’t you think?”

You flicked your eyes toward him. “You call it swagger, I call it annoyingly self-absorbed,” you huffed.

Jo chuckled, clearly enjoying herself. “You know, it’s okay to admit you find him attractive,” she teased, giving you a knowing glance. “I see through your little act of indifference.”

You let out a shocked laugh. “All I see when I look at him is a self-assured prick.”

“Well, he is a self-assured prick, I’ll give you that. But you can at least admit he’s an attractive self-assured prick,” she challenged, waggling her brows at you.

You shook your head in disbelief and fixed your gaze elsewhere. The only thing you’d admit about Noel was that he was talented. That was all.

And yet, somehow, your gaze kept drifting back to him.

There was something different about the way he played. He looked completely lost in it, mind, body, and soul poured into his guitar. Sweat dripped down his face as he screwed it up in concentration. It seemed to be the only thing he was truly sincere about.

The way his mouth hung open as he played, fingers moving expertly across the fretboard, eyes slightly lidded—you supposed you could see why people found him attractive.

Not you, though. Obviously.

At some point, you’d wandered off through the festival grounds alone, the distant thump of music vibrating through the soles of your boots. The warm night air carried the scent of damp grass and spilled beer. Several hours had passed, and you figured it was time to head back before Jo started thinking you’d been kidnapped.

When you finally spotted her, she was already grinning. “We were just about to find a quiet spot for a joint. You’re coming,” she declared, grabbing your wrist before you could protest. And, well, you’d never been one to turn down free weed.

Jo dragged you across the field toward Noel and his usual entourage.

“Oi! Found our little lost lamb, did ya?” Noel called out as you approached.

Jo chuckled, plopping down on the grass beside him, where he was leaning back against a log. “Yeah, had to pry her away from some poor crew member she was boring to death,” she teased, nudging you.

Noel smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, she’s a master at boring people, is she?”

You shot him a glare before settling down on the opposite side of Jo.

As the joint made its way around, you felt yourself begin to relax. The music from nearby stages blurred into a distant hum, while the festival lights cast soft glows over your surroundings. You were properly stoned. A lazy smile stayed fixed on your lips as you laughed at whatever ridiculous story was being told. The fact that it was Noel telling it didn’t even bother you. You were too blissed out to care.

Noel, on the other hand, found himself sneaking glances at you. You almost seemed like a different person like this, not as uptight or dismissive. You even met his eyes a few times with a hazy smile instead of a scowl. It was... interesting to say the least.

As the night wore on, the group gradually dwindled until it was just you, Jo, and Noel left. Surprisingly, the Noel sitting here now was different from the one who had tried to lure you in at the club. He wasn’t putting on an act or trying to wind you up, he was just... normal. Cracking jokes, actually making you laugh. You much preferred this version of him, though you weren’t about to let your guard down completely.

Suddenly Jo rose from between you and Noel, dusting off her jeans before moving to sit across from you. There was a mischievous glint in her eye

Noel’s gaze flicked toward her, immediately suspicious. “What’s that look for, eh?” he questioned.

“Oh, nothing,” Jo said innocently, stretching out her legs. “I just figured now was a good time for the two of you to get to know each other. Y’know, so you don’t loathe each other anymore.”

It took a moment for her words to register, the remnants of your high still lingering. You lolled your head toward Noel, trying to gauge his reaction.

Noel raised an eyebrow, amused. “Loathe each other, do we?” His smirk deepened as he held your gaze. “Dunno if I’d go that far.”

Something about his tone made you laugh. You wanted to argue, to tell him just how wrong he was, but the whole situation was too ridiculous.

Your laughter must have been contagious because Noel chuckled too. It was the first time the two of you had laughed together instead of at each other. He leaned back against the log, eyeing you with curiosity. “What’s so funny?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you reached over and shoved him. Just because. 

Noel toppled over with an exaggerated grunt, landing on his side in the grass. He stared up at you, mock outrage on his face. “Oi! Watch it, you little brute,” he said, a laugh escaping him as he pushed himself upright.

You dissolved into another fit of giggles. At that moment, he was actually entertaining to you.

As Noel brushed stray bits of grass from his clothes, he studied you. There was something about your laugh—genuine, unguarded. It wasn’t something that he heard often and he liked it more than he cared to admit.

“Now, now,” Jo piped up, shaking her head. “Violence isn’t the answer.”

You turned back to her, nearly forgetting she was there. What you didn’t notice was Noel still watching you, his expression unreadable.

“So,” you said, “how exactly do you propose we get to know each other?”

Jo grinned. “How about a game?”

You narrowed your eyes. “What kind of game?”

“Hmm… how about truth or dare,” Jo suggested, her smile all too pleased with itself. 

You chuckled dryly before noticing her face. “Oh you’re actually serious.”

“Dead serious.”

You sighed. “Fine. Whatever.” She would badger you until you gave in if you refused.

Noel smirked at your reluctant agreement. “You sure you’re up for this?” he teased.

As you leaned back against the log, you noticed that he’d shifted slightly closer. Not that you were paying attention.

You turned your head, meeting his gaze. “Bring it on, dickhead.”

Noel let out a low chuckle. “Alright. But remember you asked for it.”

Jo clapped her hands together. “Okay, I’ll go first,” she said eagerly, eyes flicking between the two of you. “Truth or dare?” she asked, looking directly at you.

You exhaled, already regretting this. “Truth.”

Jo tapped her chin, pretending to be deep in thought before smirking. “Alright, truth… how do you really feel about Noel?”

You stared at her for a moment, immediately seeing what she was trying to do. Force some kind of truce between you two. Well, you wouldn’t buy into it.

“You already know how I feel,” you said flatly.

“Yes, but do you find him attractive?” Jo pressed.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “That’s another question and I do believe that it’s my turn now.”

Jo pouted dramatically. “You’re no fun.”

Noel, who had been watching the exchange intently, let out a quiet chuckle.

You sighed, turning to face him. “Alright, Noel. Truth or dare?”

Noel met your gaze, his eyes narrowing as he tried to gauge your intentions. 

“Dare” he finally said, tone challenging. 

Jo whooped in approval but quickly stifled it with a hand over her mouth.

You tilted your head, considering. Then an idea struck. “I dare you to let Jo punch you in the arm as hard as she can.”

Jo tsked, clearly displeased. 

Noel, however, barely reacted, save for a scoff. “Is that all?” he said lazily, shifting closer to where Jo sat. “Go on, love. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Jo hesitated before throwing a half-hearted punch at his arm.

Noel barely flinched. He turned to you with a smug smirk.

“Oh come on you can do better than that,” you scoffed. “Hit him!”

Jo narrowed her eyes at you, then swung again, this time harder. Noel winced slightly, rubbing his arm.

“Happy now?” he asked, moving back against the log.

“Very,” you said with a satisfied smirk. 

“Brat,” he muttered under his breath, still rubbing his arm. “My turn now innit?”

Noel leaned back, glancing at Jo. “Alright, truth or dare?”

Jo grinned. “Dare.”

A slow smirk spread across Noel’s face. “I dare you to leave us alone for ten minutes.”

Your head snapped toward him. Sure, you were slightly more at ease around him now, but that was with the buffer of drugs and Jo. You weren’t sure you wanted to be alone with him again.

“And how is that a good dare?!” you sputtered. 

Noel chuckled. “It’s a perfectly good dare. Right, Jo?”

Jo nodded and stood up. Traitor.

“Mhm, but let me get one last turn first,” she said, looking at you. “Truth or dare?”

You were over this. It felt like you were being toyed with. You ran your fingers through your hair and huffed. “Fine Jo. Dare.”

“I dare you to… kiss Noel. With tongue.” she said before darting away, leaving you stunned. 

Surely she wasn’t serious. 

Kiss him. With tongue. Her words weren’t binding. This was a children's game for christ sake. But something about the thought stirred an unidentifiable feeling in you. 

“I’m sorry but there’s no way I’m doing that” you said, huffing a laugh. 

Absolutely not.

Right?

Noel smirked, but there was something else behind it. Something unreadable. “What, afraid you’ll like it too much?” 

Your eyes narrowed. “Afraid I’ll throw up, more like.”

He chuckled, amused at your outrage. “Or maybe,” he mused, tilting his head, “you’re a terrible kisser and you’re trying to get out of it.” 

You sat up, suddenly offended. “I’ll have you know that I’m a great kisser,” you shot back, voice full of indignation. “I’ve had plenty of positive feedback.”

Noel let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying how worked up you were. “Is that right?” he murmured, eyes gleaming. “Got any proof of that?”

You faltered for a moment before realizing what he was doing. And worse, you had walked straight into it.

The gears in your brain turned. The thing was, some distant part of you was curious. The tiny, treacherous part that found him alluring.

He did have nice lips. The thought surfaced unbidden, and once it took root, it wouldn’t leave. You tried to shove it away, but curiosity had already won. 

You thought for a moment. If you played this right, you could act like it was all just to prove a point. Nothing more. 

“I’ll show you proof,” you said, voice steady, as you slid closer to him.

“Go on then,” he taunted.

Your eyes flicked down to his lips, then back up to his eyes. A flicker of something crossed his face. Anticipation maybe? You could hardly believe what you were about to do, but inched closer despite yourself. 

He was too close now. Or maybe you were. Either way, the air had shifted, something unsaid crackling between you.

Noel’s breath shallowed. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and you caught yourself tracking the movement before you could stop. You’d never been so close to him before. Now you could see the details. The long lashes, the sharpness of his features, the maddening blue of his eyes. 

He opened his mouth, no doubt to taunt you for taking so long. But before he could get the words out, you surged forward, crashing your lips against his. 

A sharp inhale left his throat, almost a gasp. The sound sent a strange bolt of… something through you.

His lips were warm, softer than you would’ve expected. Your heart rate kicked up, but you reasoned it was just a pavlovian response. You pressed against him, letting the kiss linger a second longer than necessary, just enough to prove your point.

Then your lips grazed a particularly sensitive spot on his mouth and another soft sound, half-surprised, half-wanting, escaped his throat.

You had to stop this. Now. 

You pulled back just enough to break the kiss, his breath warm against your lips. The world had shrunk to just the two of you.

Noel was leaning in, just slightly, like he was chasing the contact.

For the first time since you’d met him, his expression was completely unguarded. He looked vulnerable. Uncertain. Like he wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened.

It caught you off guard.

You swallowed, forcing composure. “You call that good kissing?” you said, voice steadier than you felt. It was meant to be a taunt, but the usual malice wasn’t there.

Noel let out a bark of laughter. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

A flicker of annoyance, mixed with something else, something darker and more dangerous, ran through you.

“Are you calling me a bad kisser?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” His smirk was back now, arrogant and lazy, like he hadn’t just been thrown by a simple kiss.

You smiled sweetly. “Fine.”

Before you could second-guess yourself, you slid your hand over the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as you yanked him toward you.

He barely had time to react before your lips crashed onto his again, this time with intent.

You pressed in close, your body crowding against his. Your lips slotted together again, starting slow, teasing, but quickly deepening. You weren’t holding back, pouring everything into this kiss, testing him, challenging him as your mouths moved together in a heated fury. You weren’t sure if it was about proving a point or something else entirely now.

Then your tongue slipped into his mouth.

The second they touched, electricity sizzled down your spine, hot and consuming.

He reciprocated with a sigh, and damn it, he was good. Really good. It was maddening. 

He tasted like smoke and something sharp and earthy. Pine, maybe, from the trees surrounding you. Either way, you liked it. Couldn’t get enough of it in fact. 

Your teeth found his bottom lip, biting down just enough to make him gasp before letting go, watching the way it recoiled, swollen and slick. 

The low, ragged sound that tore from his throat sent a shockwave through you.

The way he was reacting was shocking to say the very least. He seemed so… needy. Desperate. A strange tug pulled at something deep inside you. This was a side of him you would’ve never guessed existed. And for some reason, it was coming out here, now, with you. You wanted to see just how far you could push him. 

Then, hands were on your waist. 

You nearly jolted, unused to his touch. But instead of pulling away, you leaned in further, tongues colliding again.

Something was happening between you, something messy and volatile, where your hatred was starting to blur into something far more perverse. You wondered, distantly, how often he found himself in this position. Your guess was not often. Why he was allowing it, you weren’t sure, but you’d take as much as he’d give.

You pulled back slightly, dragging his tongue with you before sucking on it, gentle but firm. His fingers dug into your waist in response, his breath stuttering as a quiet, barely restrained curse slipped past his lips.

That sound. That voice. It sent a rush straight to your head.

Noel Gallagher, reduced to this. Because of you.

The realization sent a thrill through you, equal parts amazement and ego. You wanted, no, needed to see him break.

You leaned back slightly, letting your gaze rake over him. His lips were red and bruised, his face flushed, chest rising and falling too fast. His mouth hung open slightly, like he was still chasing the taste of you.

A sight for sore eyes.

You smirked, reaching up to tilt his head slightly, baring his neck to you.

“So you admit it,” you murmured, your voice lower now. “That I’m the better kisser.”

His breath hitched, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “Not a chance,” he shot back, though his words lacked their usual bite, undercut by his uneven breathing.

“Wrong answer,” you whispered deviously, lips barely grazing his skin before you slowly slid a knee against his crotch, smirking when you felt the strain there. 

A sharp gasp tore from his throat, his hips jerking forward instinctively. He tried to recover, to take control, pushing his tongue into your mouth again, but he was slipping. You could feel it.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his grip tightening on your hips.

You placed a slow, deliberate trail of kisses from the corner of his lips, down the sharp edge of his jaw. When you reached the spot just below his ear, you lingered, pressing an open-mouthed kiss there before adding just a little more pressure with your knee.

“How about now?” you whispered against his skin.

His breathing was ragged, coming in short, desperate bursts. He was barely holding it together, his control hanging by a thread.

“Still not… convinced…” he managed, voice hoarse, roughened by something between desire and frustration.

Then you dragged your teeth over the shell of his ear, biting down just enough to make him shudder.

That did it. 

A low, guttural moan escaped from deep in his chest, raw and unfiltered. His hands spasmed on your waist. His resistance was crumbling fast, and you knew there was no coming back from this.

“God… damn it,” he gasped.

Your resolve solidified. He was losing this battle, and you both knew it. And victory tasted so sweet.

You moved lower, lips ghosting over his neck before latching onto his pulse point, sucking just enough to make him curse under his breath.

He was unraveling, coming apart at the seams. His body was reacting vehemently to your touch. Every touch, every shift of your knee, every brush of your lips made him react like a man starved of touch.

He was losing himself in this. In you. And you were loving every second of it.

“Please…” he breathed, voice strained, almost desperate. 

His hips bucked slightly against your knee, his body betraying him, making his need painfully obvious. You were right there with him, but at least you were better at hiding it.

You released him and pulled back, tilting your head. “What? What do you need Noel?” Your voice was innocent. 

His eyes fluttered open, hazy and overwhelmed, his chest rising and falling in rapid bursts. He knew you were taunting him. It frustrated him. Aroused him even more. 

He swallowed hard, voice rough when he finally spoke. “You know damn well what I want.”

You hummed, letting your gaze flick down to the obvious bulge straining against his jeans before slowly dragging your eyes back up to meet his.

“Do I?”

His jaw clenched. “Don’t play dumb,” he rasped. “You just want to hear me say it.”

You arched a brow, waiting. You half expected him to push back, to resist the power play you'd boxed him into.

His stare was dark, unreadable. But after a beat, he exhaled sharply and gave in.

“I want you.”

The words sent something sharp and hot through your stomach. Beneath all of your teasing, you could see how vulnerable you’d made him. Stripped of his usual cocky bravado, left raw. It scared you a little. But it also thrilled you. There was a strange pull in your chest, an unfamiliar urge to give him anything he asked for.

You glanced around, scanning the area. It was dark, secluded enough that no one would see. At least you hoped. You vaguely realized that what you were about to do might be pushing it too far. You couldn't explain this away. 

You’d finally given in to him, but the thing was… he wasn’t that smug, cocky asshole from the alleyway. This felt far more real. You didn’t understand his change in demeanor, but you were liking it far too much to care.

When you looked back at him, he was still watching you, pupils blown, lips swollen, expression so unlike himself that you hesitated for a brief moment just to take it in. 

Then, slowly, deliberately, you reached down and palmed him through his jeans.

“How do you want me?”

A quiet whimper escaped him, his lashes fluttering as his head tipped back. He squeezed his eyes shut, visibly struggling to speak.

“Any way… any way you’ll give me,” he gasped.

His voice, needy, breathless, made your head spin. You had ruined him. Reduced him to this.

“Okay Noel,” you murmured, almost sweetly. 

You kissed him again, swallowing the groan that tore from his throat as you pressed him back against the log. Your legs moved to straddle him, smirking at how hard he was beneath you.

His hands grasped your back, your waist, holding you close, like he couldn’t bear to have any space between you.

Your fingers ghosted under his shirt, nails teasing over his skin. He tensed beneath you, a sharp inhale breaking past his lips. You traced the lines of him, teasing your way down to his belt buckle.

The moment your fingers brushed the metal, his hips jerked violently. A choked noise left him, somewhere between a moan and a plea. The sheer desperation in it made you pause, momentarily thrown by how much he was unraveling.

He was barely holding it together. You could feel it in the way he trembled beneath you, in the ragged breaths, in the way his grip on you tightened like a vice.

You couldn’t remember the last time someone had been this responsive to you. And that it was Noel of all people… the thought alone sent heat pooling deep in your gut.

“Jesus” you murmured in near reverence.

His eyes fluttered open, locking onto yours.

“Be gentle with me,” he gasped. “Please.”

Something about the way he said it made your chest tighten. It made you want to comply.

You nodded slightly, drunk on the moment. With careful fingers, you freed him from his jeans, wrapping a tentative hand around him. His head snapped back, eyes squeezing shut as a sharp gasp tore from him. His hips lifted instinctively, thrusting into your palm.

“God,” he panted.

Your stomach clenched. His lips were parted, his face flushed, his entire body wound tight beneath you. He was hot and heavy in your hand. Your head spun as he shifted his hips, twitching in your grip. You tightened your hold, stroking him slowly, using his precum to ease the motion.

His response was immediate. His breath hitched, a moan catching in his throat. His fingers dug into you like a lifeline, trying to ground himself. Every sound he made sent a thrill through you, your own breath growing ragged.

“Noel,” you pleaded, voice dripping with something you couldn’t quite name. You were almost as desperate for him to come as he was. You needed to see him fall apart underneath you. 

He groaned, like hearing his name from your lips alone was enough to push him further. He clung to your shirt, forehead dropping to your shoulder as he panted against your skin.

“More… please… I need more,” he begged, voice wrecked.

You obliged, quickening your pace, swiping your thumb over the sensitive head of his cock. His whole body jolted beneath you.

His moans grew more desperate, more broken, his hips stuttering into your touch. He was teetering on the edge, barely hanging on.

“I—I’m…so close…” he choked out. 

You leaned in, placing a well-timed bite at his pulse point. With one final twist of your wrist, he shattered.

His body arched violently, muscles locking up as a strangled moan ripped from his throat. He spilled over your fingers, his breaths coming in sharp, erratic bursts. He trembled beneath you, clinging to you like you were the only thing anchoring him to this earth.

You watched, mesmerized, as he came undone.

A final, weak moan left him before he slumped back, chest heaving. It took several moments for any semblance of awareness to return. When his eyes finally fluttered open, they locked onto yours, utterly wrecked.

You sat there, pulse racing, trying to catch your breath as if you were the one who’d just come. This moment, this image, was searing itself into your mind. You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly, trying to collect yourself.

Then you realized your hand was still wrapped around him. 

You quickly let go, catching sight of his softening cock and your hand coated in him. You averted your eyes, feeling like it was far too intimate a sight. Something hot and embarrassing was starting to climb up your throat.

“Sorry ‘bout the mess,” he rasped, voice hoarse.

Your face burned. The weight of what had just happened was settling over you like a lead blanket. You needed to get out of there. Now.

You quickly wiped your hand on the grass and untangled yourself from him, feeling completely dazed. 

An awkward silence hung between you. You forced yourself to stand, legs shaky, unsure what to do next.

You could still feel the remnants of cum you hadn’t managed to wipe on the grass cooling on your skin. 

You opened your mouth, then closed it again, grasping for words.

"Right, well, I—uh, um," you stammered, turning your head toward the festival grounds. "I suppose I’ll be going then."

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but for once in his life, he seemed to be at a loss for words.

You forced your feet to carry you away, not daring to look back. You didn’t want to stay and think about what had just happened. You wandered into the more crowded part of the festival in a daze, barely paying attention to where you were going. 

You glanced down at your hand and felt panic claw at your throat. Suddenly, you were overcome with the need to get rid of the evidence. Fast. It felt like everyone knew you were walking around with Noel Gallagher’s spunk on your hand. 

Spotting a water spout, you rushed over, scrubbing at your skin furiously. You flicked the water off, running a shaky hand through your hair. You quickly realized the state you were in and hurriedly smoothed out the wrinkles in your shirt and wiped at your mouth like it could erase everything that had just transpired.

No one could know about this. Ever. 

Just as you were regaining some semblance of composure, a familiar voice cut through the noise.

“Well, well, well…”

You barely had time to react before Jo appeared in front of you, arms crossed, a smug grin stretching across her face.

She took one long, knowing look at you, eyes gleaming.

“So… whose dick did you just suck?”

Shit. 

--------------------------------------------------------

I saw I got some requests, which I didn’t think I’d get so thank you!! I’ll try to get to those as soon as I can. I have some other ideas rattling around my brain at the moment <3

[ct-multifandom]

Big day for annoying people (me)

The two new eps of ML were good? Like wow it’s been great so far except ep 3 was comparatively a flop imo. Werepapas was so, idk, enticing lore-wise but I don’t have much to say that other people haven’t except that they’re clearly NOT neglecting past plot points, making the tone too silly goofy all the time, nor retconning important stuff like some people worried they would. We have been FED. I’m sure Felix is involved in that ring bs somehow, but idk if his intentions are pure or not.

Warning for the only salty thing I’m gonna say on this post: I’m so tired of going into the fandom tag and seeing people whining about “bad writing” problems that literally never happened based entirely on their own incorrect predictions they made up to make themselves mad. Ugh anyway. This post is gonna be about small details I latched onto in Daddycop!

We got to see glimpses of Sabrina and Max’s rooms this ep! Max’s room looks like a Star Trek spaceship but the books on his bookshelf are kinda giving those reference books at the library of like, archived government documents or research papers iykwim whereas the books in Alya’s room look like manga. An interesting thing I noticed in Sabrina’s room is that she has a line of framed certificates on the wall, maybe academic awards or something similar

Did they ever say if Markov can see Kaalki or not? I’m sure they will eventually but idk which option I like better. It’d be cute if they were friends but it’d be pretty funny if he had to watch Max talk to the secret floating ghost who lives with them now and not question it

List of things Sabrina dumps in the trash: yellow nail polish, the brooch Chloe gifted to her/bribed her with in season 1, the cat ear headband from her Chat Noir cosplay when she and Chloe were roleplaying as him and Ladybug in season 3, a beret, maybe the one Chloe tried to bribe her with in s1, Chloe-style sunglasses, a Queen Bee doll, a photo of them together in the old animation, and a mug/tumbler? Maybe a gift from her as well idk maybe they’re selling Queen Bee-themed Stanley cups over there.

:((((( Aw Sabrina nooo I hate seeing her so sad and the way she lied to her dad so he would think she’s happy and has friends

I think this might be the first time the show referred to Fire Captain Hessenpy by name?

Marinette’s scooter has the T+S logo on it and a sticker that says Boulangerie Paris

Between eps 2 and 4 I’m getting the sense that Sabrina uses Miss Hound as an escape kinda like CN where she feels like she can become instantly likeable, trustworthy, helpful, and useful through the inherent credibility of being a superhero. She has anonymity, can sort of start over on a blank slate, and is automatically implied to be a good person since Ladybug entrusted her. I’m guessing we’re gonna see more of that blank slate idea with other characters and what they’ll do with it, but it’s telling that Sabrina decides to transform to resolve people’s minor inconveniences, especially when she’s feeling bad about herself. It’s like she’s proving a point to herself but also giving herself something productive to do.

The GIRLS Ahhhhh let’s go lesbians

Noticing a clear absence of Alix. Ik the special implied she has to keep hiding in the burrow from Lila but she’s all normal-looking in the intro and they can’t shelve her forever. I feel like something is gonna change to make her be able to return.

^^^ ALSO she’s the only hero with zero design updates and my theory is that the purpose of that is so she can do contrived time nonsense like going back to earlier seasons and going forward without contradicting anything or revealing which time period she’s actually from

I gotta say the side character writing has progressively been better and better throughout the show. Atp they really feel like actual people with their own opinions and motivations. In the early days they felt more like lovable NPCs who talked occasionally but now they’re real characters? With free will? I feel like I just watched Pinocchio get turned into a real boy

The pro-healthy eating censorship/propaganda/whatever in this show is so funny omg. Juleka: I brought fruit tea Mylene: wow that’s so much better than the sugary soda we had last time LMAO. To balance out Rose holding a bag of popcorn they gave Zoe two burlap sacks full of oranges which tbf I’d rather snack on those during a movie than popcorn but still. I saw a vid recently about gravity falls adding random bowls of fruit next to characters eating junk food because they were getting flagged as promoting unhealthy habits. I keep thinking about that moment in Ikari Gozen when Mari asks Kagami out for “juice” when any normal teen would’ve said “coffee” like nope no caffeine in my good Christian miraculous

Love Kagami being a pretentious film nerd go hang out with Nino

RED ALERT YOU GUYS Mylene has an inclusive pride flag pin on her overall strap. Like the rainbow flag with the trans triangle and the black stripe. It’s not subtle or anything it’s just right there wow. Damn

The pin above it reminds me of Timebreaker’s logo. I wonder what some of these pins mean

Ok last season they seem to have established that Sabrina became friends with Marc and Nathaniel who were both explicit Sabrina Supporters since their akuma episodes, so it feels sort of convenient that they were written out of the narrative for this ep. I do see the whole Girl Squad thing and how she feels excluded when all the girls in the group hang out together without her, doing traditional girl things like movie night sleepovers, so I do think it’s totally valid. Her having absolutely zero friends is hyperbolized though.

On that note I have to wonder if the school might have several lunch periods because none of the male characters expect Adrien and Nino were there. Or maybe they just stage the scene with whoever is convenient. They might have flexible lunch schedules and all the other characters are off somewhere else.

Rose mentioned a girl whose name I didn’t recognize and after rewinding i can’t tell what she said. Aglie? New character? Maybe she’s that black girl with pink hair who was sitting with Adrien, Nino, and Sublime at lunch

KAGAMI AND ONDINE ARE CANONICALLY FRIENDS this is like the Superbowl for me. I’m so excited for Sleeping/Princess Syren I need to see her.

God the girls were so messy in that scene where they didn’t want to invite Sabrina lol I kinda love it I can’t even be mad

Zoe, your lab safety is atrocious. Not only are you taking your goggles off while still in the lab, but then you *leave the room* and *touch someone* with your gloves still on?! Diabolical. What are they even doing, soldering computer chips?

Marinette when I catch you Marinette

Roger’s relationship with Sabrina is actually so cute even though he’s kinda misguided as a person GOD when he’s on his way to console his crying daughter and Lila enters his mind space and he’s cradling his arms like he’s clearly seeing her as his baby 🥺 nobody talk to me

Alexa play I bet on losing dogs by mitski. Myyyy baby my baby…

We got a glimpse of the baddest bitch in Paris Xavier Ramier I’m so happy

Sabrina shapeshifted her necklace into a brooch. Huh. I guess you can just do that

The power of believing in herself allowed her to yassify her own character design into a cuter and more fashionable superhero! This is basically just like real life if you think about it

Her ball has a doggy nose on it awww

Lila telling Roger to turn around so she could back him up and fire the anti akuma was badass okay

I’m not sold on the loud ass makeup they have a lot of the characters wearing so I’m glad we got to see the girls with clean faces at the end there. Wow they look so normal! I’m also loving the pajama designs. I had to pause and look at all of them.

Zoe had to stop and hit Sabrina with that rizz stare to make sure Sabrina wouldn’t be coming up with any platonic explanations for her behavior

I never thought I’d say these words, but I think a love triangle between Sabrina, Zoe, and Max would be fun. Imagine Zoe is into Sabrina, Sabrina isn’t exactly catching the hint and sees Zoe as a really nice friend, Sabrina kinda likes Max, and Max is like damn these bitches gay. Good for them.

The end card is so baby omg

I TOLD YOU GUYS Sabrina was gonna get a makeover and people were like uH No iTs JUsT An aNimATioN eRroR oF a ScRApPEd DeSiGn girl why the hell would they leave a scrapped design in the intro, and there’s no way they would accidentally not notice that much less repeat it

Mark my words white haired Caprikid is not an error either he’s real and he’s gonna collect all the chaos emeralds to get that way

A new diabolical twink has hit the scene. Ray’s pompous ass immediately reminded me of Preminger from Barbie. He looks like he rides horses. Like he tells people he’s into sports but then you find out the sport is just horse riding. Immediately invested. Who is this diva. I want him to get hit by a bus.

Ooooo Zoe was up to some Delinquent Shit in America this is so juicy. I looove when suspiciously perfect characters get revealed to be secretly fucked up that’s the best. I’ve always loved those types of headcanons, that she was expelled from her last school and moved to a different country all of a sudden for her mom’s PR. If you think about it, that’s exactly what happened to Chloe damn. Daughter commits PR disaster, do zero parenting about it, relocate daughter far away to start over with little consequence! I wanna see some parallels. I feel like she made it sound like she moved because she was getting bullied at her old school, but what if that was a lie, or at least a partial lie? You know shit’s serious when the exposition is in the post-post-endcard scene

The pacing of these episodes has been satisfying compared to previous seasons, especially 5. They aren’t trying to shove too much in, but there’s still a lot happening and fiiiinally a nice mix of plot and fighting. I was getting irritated by how rushed a lot of the fights were last season like might as well just not have them at all

Excited to see more yay! I love the little details. It’s kinda a bummer that Sabrina spent most of her hero focus ep sobbing but we ball (see what I did there) and the end was so cutesy. So excited to probably watch episode 11 before episode 6

[katiekatdragon27]

Hey. Hey, guys. You'll never guess what I've been drawing.

Glisten: ...??

Glisten and his lame ass boyfriends!!!!!! Cheers to art dumps <3

[CW: SUGGESTIVE JOKE] More doodles below cut:

So! I know most of you come for the shinyshrimp stuff (WHICH WE WILL GET TO) but let me yap about Glisten and Razzle for a bit.

I LOVE YOU GLITTERMASK THEY COULD NEVER MAKE ME HATE YOU GLITTERMASK-

Glisten and Razzle got together like 3 months after Glisten and Boxten broke up. Razzle never really looked to Glisten that much outside of acquaintances (cuz he was kinda sorta lowkey jealous of Glisten's charisma and stage-presence). In fact, they were much more focused on Vee and maybe possibly had a crush on her, which is really funny in hindsight with Dazzle lol. However, after learning that Vee was a lesbian/being very rudely rejected by her, Razzle found comfort in Glisten and fell head-over-heels almost immediately.

The only problem is, Razzle has -10000 aura. His ass cannot be flirty or cool-charismatic at all.

Glisten: What do you do when you aren't distracting? Razzle: (Glisten likes mysterious people) I sell drugs!! Glisten: ... Excuse me? Razzle: (But Glisten also likes kind people) But ONLY to kids in need! Dazzle: (STOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOP-) *defeated whimper*

Razzle thinks he's that guy (they're not, they're pathetic honestly lol)

Also like, Razzle is suuuper dense when it comes to everyone except Dazzle. They struggle with self-reflection and other-people reflection, so he is completely convinced he is doing all the right things, when in actuality, they are very very very cringe.

Razzle: No see Dazzie, this is why they call me Rizzle. Dazzle: (No one has EVER called you that.)

Denseness is one hell of a drug, aye, fellas?

Dazzle is being pulled through the wringer trying to preserve whatever was left of her (and Razzle's) pride. It's not working. Girl is fighting for their life every time she is dragged over by Razzle in order to say a horrible pick-up line to Glisten.

(This is all pre-relationship btw. After they get together it becomes an inside joke and Glisten retorts with his own awful (although not nearly as bad) pick-up lines)

Now the moment you've been waiting forrrr 🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

✨ Shinyshrimp ✨

I love them chat, I love them sm. They have so much drama and love and interesting things going on, they're so cool and fun n stuff and AUGHHHHH💥💥💥

Shrimpo being that one guy who craves affection but would literally bite anyone who gives it to him is so real to me. Homie wants a hug but ends up suplexing whoever hugged him outta reflex. Glisten, on the other hand, is one of the most affectionate people ever. He's not affectionate to everyone, but when you catch his interest (both platonic and romantic), he is very verbally and physically affectionate. He'll buy you things, he'll give you hugs, he'll let you invade his personal space, all stuff he would never let normies do.

Shrimpo loves this, however, homie has no idea how to deal with any kind of affection in a positive way. Cat-coded ahh guy. Glisten does find this amusing tho, so he's more inclined to be affectionate with Shrimpo to help him "get over it" in a way.

This is just for shits and giggles. I feel like everyone should draw this meme with their ships. It's a canon event at this point.

What can I say? He was hungry.

Can't forget my fankids. I love my fankids. I miss my fankids. I need to draw my fankids more istg I need to revamp their ask blog soon (especially with some new editions coming soon).

Also Hamlet looks smaller because most of his internal structure is made of ribbon and stuffing, so he shrinks into a ball when happy. He also loafs like a cat, what a guy.

Also also also what the skibidi sigma happened to my prep-jock ship?? Why is it backwards???

I drew these because I had a vision of the little doodle below and only thought it would work if they were swaped... sooooo... here we are.

Scapmi is a preppy goth-ish shrimp with an eye for fashion and artistry. With a smart mouth and a massive ego, he often comes off as an annoyance to others. He loves to be front and center in everything but often has to fight with his internalized idea that everything is a competition that he needs to win no matter what. It causes him a lot of stress and self-doubt, but he'd never let anyone see his weaknesses.

Gash is a shrap-toned violent mirror who speaks more with his fists than his voice. He hates everything that is not himself (and sweets) and makes sure people know that. He used to be a perfectionist, but after an accident permanently cracked his face, he dropped his "perfect" persona in favor of a messy, more hateful one. He wants connection but doesn't know how to express his needs in an understandable way, and that frustrates him immensely.

As you can see, match made in heaven.

Gash: DUDE, WHAT THE F*CK!? Scampi: There's a smudge on you- Gash: I DON'T CARE! LET GO!! Scampi: Not 'til I'm done. (Your natural blush is gorgeous; shame it's on you tho)

So yeah, swap shinyshrimp lore drop yippee.

Have a good one chat, til I reappear again✌️✌️

[utilitycaster]

How would you rank each of the PCs endings against each other? I feel like I have a pretty good guess who's end up at the rock bottom but I'm curious about the rest. Thank you for the time!

So I'm not sure if you mean Bells Hells only or everyone but I'll do everyone. No one fully fails for me, actually, but there's a LOT of low-tier shit. Also I don't know what Fy'ra is up to so I can't speak to her and she is not included.

S tier: All of the Mighty Nein (includes Molly) whose stories were not significantly changed; FCG; Pike, Grog, and Scanlan; presumably Taryon; honestly for me Morrighan; Bor'Dor in that his ending was interesting.

A tier: Deanna, FRIDA, presumably Prism, Dariax and Deni$e. Percy and Vex; this is a drop from their pre-C3 S-tier because the way that they had both largely moved on with her life and Keyleth hadn't was an interesting dynamic, and while the people who made a big fucking deal about Vax mostly focusing on Keyleth and not Vex in his role as Champion struck me as deeply unwell weirdos, bringing Vax back actually does kind of like, show the cracks in that dynamic. I still very much love their story but it's been weakened slightly. I would also put Braius here; being in only a small part of the story and having clear goals really worked for him.

B tier: Chetney, Fearne, Orym, Dorian. I wish that the story had done more justice to their character concepts and that their plot hooks had actually been explored in depth, and Orym and Dorian in particular feel ill-served by both having a lack of consequences that feels justified but is weakened by the overall narrative never having consequences for anyone, but I like their endings and I can see where they follow from.

C tier: Ashton, Imogen, Laudna. I don't dislike where their characters ended up - in fact, I genuinely was pleasantly surprised by where Ashton ends up, though "dying in their first genuinely heroic move after so much posturing" would have shot them up to at least B-tier if not A-tier - but it all feels entirely unearned and empty. Somehow, in a story where Imogen was constantly at the center, I feel her concept, which was a strong one initially, still feels unexplored given how poorly she inhabited her decisions and how little philosophical grounding she had; and I've said my piece about Laudna.

D tier: Vax and Keyleth; self-explanatory.

edited: forgot Opal, she is also D-tier; wholly unearned freedom from everything Lolth did, seemingly unaffected by the loss of her memories, what the fuck was that honestly

[emotionallychargedtowel]

None of this is untrue, but there's another aspect of this table that puts a slightly different spin on the whole horny lady pinball angle.

So, yeah, the playfield is mapped out like a woman's body and it responds to things the player does in a sexual way, including actual moaning (though apparently there's a setting that turns off the most suggestive vocalizations). That's all correct.

But!

There's another side to the story here. It's told through dialogue between the Machine (a.k.a. Bride of Pin-Bot), Pin-Bot, and some human guy I've seen referred to online as "the technician." This dialogue unfolds as you hit various lock shots and eventually (hopefully) get to the multiball phase.

I'm not 100% sure about the sequence here because it's been a while since I've played this table and when I look at gameplay videos online there are all sorts of sequences based on when someone loses a ball and so forth. But these are all stages in the game and I believe this is the sequence you get if you go through every stage without losing a ball or otherwise messing with the order.

The first lock shot you're supposed to make places a ball in a hole in the Machine's mouth. If you get the shot, the Machine says, "I can speak!" and Pin-Bot says, "Oh, no." She laughs sardonically.

Then her face panel flips around to a face with holes in her eye sockets. If you make both shots and place both balls, she says, "Now I see you." Pin-Bot replies by asking, "How do I look?" Again, she laughs. She's clearly not impressed.

Her face panel then flips to a complete robotic face without holes. The lock shot here involves the ball coming through a space at the top of her head and going down her face and through the area where her neck would be—basically, it's like she swallows or eats the ball, which is certainly suggestive but could have other implications as well. I mean, yeah, sure, swallowing and all that. But I find it really interesting that she's actually consuming the ball. I mean, the ball is still there, inside the machine, but it goes beneath the playfield and thus disappears in terms of the narrative.

If the player makes this shot successfully, the Machine says, "I feel...strange." Pin-Bot replies, "This does not compute," and the technician asks, "What's happening?!" in a fearful voice. Then the face panel flips again, to what appears to be a living woman's face. She says, "Hi, there" in a flirtatious voice and the technician says, "My God, she's alive!" The Machine—or the woman who used to be the Machine—then sings to herself happily in an operatic voice. This coincides with the player getting to multiball. But of course, all multiballs must end eventually, and when this one does, the Machine says, "I'm losing it..." and her face panel flips back to one where she's a robot.

What's my point?

Successfully completing the lock shots and getting to multiball in this game brings the Machine to a greater state of autonomy and self-actualization. Honestly, it's a surprisingly feminist story when you think about it. When the Machine gains the ability to speak, she becomes able to talk back to Pin-Bot, much to his dismay. When she gains the ability to see, she sees Pin-Bot, sizes him up, and finds him lacking. When she consumes the ball, she becomes real and Pin-Bot isn't even heard anymore. The Machine may have been created to be Pin-Bot's bride, but she doesn't seem the least bit interested in fulfilling that purpose.

There's one person who the Machine does seem to be interested in sexually and that's, well, the player. Which could be seen as undercutting that potentially feminist message. But hey, who wouldn't be attracted to the person who gave you speech and sight and helped you transcend your role as some dork's made-to-order girlfriend? At least she seems to have some choice in the matter, since she chose not to have anything to do with Pin-Bot. Also, she remains responsive to the player no matter who's playing the game. When this table was first released in 1991, the designers probably pictured mainly cishet dudes playing it, and I guess they're probably still in the majority of pinball players. But when I play this pinball as a bi woman, the Machine's responses to me have a whole other kind of significance. Basically, she's functionally pansexual.

In the end, the Machine may be ready to perform sexually for any player who can help her complete her journey, but it's not like this is just how she was programmed or something. Since she attains the ability to choose, her performance must be her choice.

So yeah, The Machine: Bride of Pin-Bot may well be the horniest pinball of all time. But the main narrative of the game is one of a woman who finds her voice, learns to see for herself, and then rejects the husband she was made for.

pinball machine robot girl

the front of her torso is partially transparent to display a fully featured pinball machine themed after human organs but obviously made of machine parts. the buttons are on the sides of her hips, so you rest your hands and gaze into her tummy intently to get a high score. she complains if you tilt her too much and gets embarrassed when you fail and have to put another coin in. shivers when you pull the plunger but tries to stay still for you

[miyuka1709]

This was actually kind of a pain but I really want to draw some in game scenes with Hopeless and Sinister - also I can't keep calling her "Hopeless", I wanna get her an "S" starting nickname.

Soft, Sharp, "Stranger", Sinister, and...? Shambly? Struggling? Sapped? Shattered? She's so cute though I love her.

(bit of rambling about Sinister and "Hopeless" down here vv)

I think it's so interesting the way we interact with the stranger princesses.

Instead of cutting Soft's hand off, we can see Quiet actually trying to break the chains instead.

Quiet decides to slay the Sharp, and she defends herself immediately (like in Tower/Adversary?)

Quiet tries to slay the Sinister, but she smiles gleefully (like in Razor?)

With "Hopeless" and "Stranger", Quiet just leaves. Thing is... If we leave Base Princess in chapter 1, she just turns into Nightmare.. so.. um.. maybe a branch off of Soft Princess when we leave her, she turns "hopeless" instead.

And well, Sinister already looks and kinda acts like the nightmarish Princess we see at the end of chapter 1 (leading up to Nightmare lol)

---

THE PROBLEM HERE! Is that I wanted to make "Hopeless" and Sinister to be like extra bases in this "au".. but I'm really not sure on how to do that in chapter 1 since there are already 3 in-game canon actions that can get you Soft, Sharp, and "Stranger"

Exploration options don't count as factors to change the Princess, at least not in chapter 1.

Maybe an action that might work would be to just.. wait in the woods. We've already tried to fight (confront), we've already tried flight (walk away), but there's really no freeze option. Ideas and perspectives could brew in Quiet's mind as he waits. What if she's dangerous? What if she's nothing but a helpless, frail princess? And when Quiet finally gets bored of waiting, he approaches the cabin, greeted by a princess. If Quiet waits long enough, he'll probably get Stranger in the end anyway.

The Sinister, a byproduct of Quiet's hesitation, he's cowered away from his "duty" for far too long. "Are you here to kill me? I didn't think anyone would be brave enough to remember me." (Wait > take blade)

It'd be hard to give her even a bit of a tender side.. I'm not sure about how to develop her next chapters since there are already so many violent princesses already.

The "Hopeless", she has lost any hope of getting out of there after waiting for so very long. "Hi..? Is anyone up there? Please don't give me false hope." (Wait > ignore blade)

Since she's already a pretty depressed character in chapter 1, it might be hard to give her a sharper, active side, but maybe you can lift her spirit up only to kill her afterwards. Maybe it'll anger her in some way. Her dim little spark, rekindled, just to be shattered once again.

[sturniololuvz]

I literally love your writing sm!! Can you do one where it takes place in their Italy vlog and reader and Nate are dating and just a day in their life, and paparazzi spots them outside of the hotel? No rush!!!

Yesss!!! i love this !

“Love & Laughs in Milan”

Sturniolos + nate x sister

warnings : none

Introduction:

The Sturniolo Triplets, their younger sister Y/N, and their best friend Nate were in Milan, Italy, for one of the biggest trips of their lives. Prada had invited them to attend a fashion show, and they were documenting every moment of their adventure for a vlog. But between the breathtaking sights, the chaos of traveling, and unexpected paparazzi, things were about to get very interesting—especially for Y/N and Nate.

8:30 AM – Hotel Room Chaos

The camera turned on, shaking slightly before focusing on Matt, who was still lying in bed, his eyes half-open.

“Good morning, vlog,” Matt mumbled, voice raspy from sleep. “It’s way too early, and I don’t know why we agreed to wake up at this time.”

Chris groaned from across the room. “We’re in Italy, bro. You gotta get up and appreciate the culture or whatever.”

Nick, holding the camera, turned it towards Y/N, who was sitting at the small hotel vanity, fixing her hair. “And here we have Y/N, our lovely little sister, who is definitely not a morning person.”

Y/N shot him a glare through the mirror. “I swear to God, Nick, if you shove that camera in my face one more time before I finish getting ready—”

“ANYWAY!” Nick laughed, cutting her off. “We have a busy day ahead of us. Fashion show later, sightseeing now, and—oh—Nate’s finally awake!”

The camera panned to Nate, who had just walked out of his room, hair a mess, rubbing his eyes. “Dude, what time is it?”

“Time for you to get a watch,” Chris joked, throwing a pillow at him.

Y/N chuckled, walking over and handing Nate a coffee. “Here, before you get bullied into oblivion.”

“My savior,” Nate sighed dramatically, taking a sip. He shot her a grateful smile, which she returned—totally unaware that Matt, Nick, and Chris had all exchanged knowing looks.

11:00 AM – Exploring Milan

The group wandered the bustling streets of Milan, their laughter filling the air as they passed by cafes and boutique stores. Y/N was holding Nate’s hand as they strolled together, her eyes sparkling with excitement. They were surrounded by the city’s rich culture, but despite all the beauty, there was only one person she wanted to focus on—Nate.

“I can’t believe we’re actually here,” Y/N said, looking at Nate with a playful grin. “It feels like a dream.”

Nate leaned in closer, dropping his voice. “Well, lucky for you, I’m your personal tour guide.”

“Ha! Sure you are,” Y/N teased, rolling her eyes. “Let’s see how good your ‘guiding’ is when we get lost.”

Chris and Matt, walking behind them, exchanged smirks. “They’re so obvious,” Chris muttered under his breath.

“Dude, they’re practically glued together,” Matt added, chuckling.

Nick, who was filming everything, turned the camera to the triplets and whispered loudly, “You guys do realize Y/N and Nate are way past the “just friends” stage, right?”

The brothers laughed, but Y/N heard the comment and shot them a look over her shoulder. “Shut up, Nick,” she called, rolling her eyes.

“Hey, no need to be embarrassed,” Nick smirked, zooming in on her face. “The world’s gonna know soon enough.”

Before Y/N could respond, Nate wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close with a laugh. “Ignore them,” he whispered in her ear.

Y/N smiled up at him, feeling her cheeks warm. “I am. But I’m not going to let them mess with me.”

1:30 PM – Outside the Hotel

After a fun day of sightseeing, the group made their way back to the hotel, where the vlog continued.

As they stepped outside the lobby, the noise of the city hit them—honking cars, chatter from the crowd, and the distant rumble of trains. But suddenly, the sounds of clicking cameras cut through it all.

Y/N froze, eyes widening. Nate’s hand instinctively found hers, squeezing it.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Matt muttered, his eyes darting around.

Out of nowhere, a few paparazzi cameras flashed in their direction, catching the group off guard.

“Y/N! Are you and Nate dating?” one of the photographers called out, snapping pictures rapidly.

Y/N’s heart raced as she instinctively moved closer to Nate, the flashes overwhelming her for a second. She could feel Nate’s protective presence beside her. He looked unfazed, but Y/N could see the slight tension in his jaw.

“How long have you two been seeing each other?” another photographer shouted.

“Are the triplets okay with this?”

Y/N turned her head sharply toward her brothers, her eyes wide. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered. “Can we just go inside?”

“We might have to deal with this for a bit,” Nate said, his voice calm but firm. He turned to the triplets, who were already standing guard in front of Y/N.

“Yeah,” Nick said, grinning. “We’re used to it by now, but you’re right—this is next level.”

Chris smirked. “But, hey, at least they finally noticed you guys. You two have been lowkey dating for months, and now the world knows.”

Y/N shot him a glare, rolling her eyes. “Oh, please,” she said, trying to laugh it off, but her nerves were clearly showing. “This isn’t how I wanted people to find out.”

Nate squeezed her hand, his voice gentle. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t think this would happen today.”

“It’s not your fault,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “I mean, you’re right—it’s just… a lot.”

Suddenly, the paparazzi’s questions got louder, the flashes more frequent. “Is Nate the reason you’re here in Milan, Y/N?”

“What’s your relationship with the Sturniolo triplets like?”

Feeling the heat of the spotlight, Y/N took a deep breath, looking at her brothers. Then, she turned to Nate, giving him a soft but confident smile. “I’m not hiding anything,” she said, louder now, so the photographers could hear. “Yes, I’m dating Nate. And yes, my brothers know. And if you really want to know about us, just ask us directly.”

For a moment, the flash of cameras stopped, and the photographers quieted down. It was rare to see someone in the spotlight speak up like that. Nate smiled proudly at her, giving her hand another squeeze.

Matt, Nick, and Chris stepped forward protectively, their usual playful demeanor gone. “She’s right,” Matt said with a shrug. “We’ve got nothing to hide.”

“Yeah,” Nick added, flashing a grin. “So keep your questions respectful, alright?”

After a few more minutes of flashing cameras and reporters shouting questions, the paparazzi slowly backed off, realizing that Y/N and Nate weren’t going to give them any juicy gossip.

As they finally entered the hotel, Y/N sighed in relief, turning to Nate. “That was… wild.”

Nate chuckled, pulling her closer. “I’ll protect you from the chaos, babe. But you handled that like a pro.”

Y/N smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thanks. I guess we’ll just have to get used to this.”

“Looks like it,” Chris said with a wink. “But hey, at least it makes for good content.”

Everyone laughed, the tension finally breaking as the elevator doors closed behind them. The group made their way back to their rooms, ready for more adventures in Milan—but now, with the paparazzi and their secrets out in the open.

End of Vlog Day

[melrosing]

sorry if this comes off as a shallow question but i wanted to know if you think arya is intended to be pretty. bc from my interpretation of the reading she’s absolutely not but she’s still one of my favourite characters in the series and i always get into arguments with other arya fans bc of this. i always read her story as sort of similar to brienne’s, who’s my absolute favourite character, and brienne fans will never (from my experience) accuse someone of hating her because they think she’s ugly. is this a phenomenon you also see? what’s your opinion?

not the prettycourse 😭 ok so I understand that some people might find more meaning in Arya’s story if she weren’t beautiful, bc I agree that ugliness is a powerful part, crucial even, of Brienne’s story. Brienne isn’t an ‘ugly duckling’, she never gets the catharsis of becoming a swan: she is truly society’s definition of ugly, and she is an incredible person too, worthy of respect and admiration. it’s rare that you get a story about an ugly woman that manages to be so much else besides, and doesn’t ultimately subvert that ugliness by reassuring readers that she was secretly attractive all along.

so I do understand the ambivalence towards Arya’s story as one that does just that; presents an ugly duckling narrative without subversion. there’s no powerful message in that. Arya doesn’t have to overcome anything to be attractive, she just is.

which is to say, Arya is canonically pretty. this is said several times over by multiple people, including Ned, Jon, Lady Smallwood, the Kindly Man, etc etc. it’s made very clear that Arya is the spit of Lyanna, who was considered a beauty. maybe not in such a conventional sense as Cersei, but still more or less conventionally so. it’s implicit that Arya’s beauty is merely hidden behind the messy hair and the dirty face etc etc like it’s whatever, she’s canonically pretty.

I think it’d be more interesting if Arya were just a normal looking kid lol, she doesn’t need Brienne’s story but we certainly have way more female POVs described as beauties than we do otherwise. Catelyn, Daenerys, Sansa, Arya, Asha, Cersei, Arianne, Melisandre - they’re literally all described as beauties in some sense. Brienne is the sole exception. Compare to the men, amongst whom only Jaime is described as a stunner lol, then Theon is considered fairly hot, and Jon…. might be?? and then that’s kind of it.

so I do think that it would be more interesting if a character who was once teased for her appearance didn’t have the author quickly assure us that actually she’s a beauty, because that’s not often how it works in life. some people can clean themselves up a bit and suddenly get compliments, but for the people who have really suffered appearance-based bullying, they don’t suddenly turn out to have been beautiful all along. they look how they look, and it’s up to society to celebrate them as they are, not for them to meet societal standards. this is what I think Brienne’s story does so effectively, but at the superlative end of the spectrum. unfortunately, there is no middle ground between Brienne and a host of beautiful female POVs and that’s on GRRM.

as for the Arya stans, to some extent I understand them getting annoyed at a broad insistence that Arya looks otherwise to how she is canonically described. there will be certain fans with an agenda in saying this. but given that you can’t really go a day without seeing some variation of this discourse in fandom, I’m going to say that this argument over the hotness of a ten year old girl has officially had way too much air time and can we please all just accept that yes she is canonically pretty and who the fuck cares

[writing-for-marvel]

Alright, so I know what kind of pain I’m in for with this first part, I’ve prepared myself as best I can but something tells me that I still won’t be able to handle it without sobbing my eyes out

“I only scream when there’s good reason.”

This feels like foreshadowing and if she ends up screaming it *will* be the end of me

“You’re hovering again, Barnes,” you say without looking up, and feel his gaze move away from you. Even after all this time, he still doesn’t trust you one bit.

“Show-off,” you mumble as you slip past Bucky and his smugly raised eyebrow.

Eeeeeep it’s the start of their journey and I cannot wait to see them eventually so mushy in love 🥰

Then, there’s a sickening cracking noise, and the pressure is gone from your throat. You stumble forwards, coughing, before you’re pulled back to your feet, fast but not roughly. Blue eyes find yours, a look almost like concern in them.

I know they’re teammates, and I know he’d want to save her anyway, but that *concern* ahhh I just sense he’s already got a soft spot for her

“Well—it’s—tradition!” Each of your words is punctuated by a punch. “And why are you looking at my thigh, Bucky?”

Yes sir exactly whatcha eyes doing gazing down there hmmm

He looks like he’s going to kill you himself. “Geez, I hate you.”

Yeah I *totally* believe you Buck

He catches you by the elbows and shoves you to the side in one fluid motion the same moment another shot sounds.

IM NOT READY

You fall to your knees next to Bucky, frantically pressing your hands on the wound in his chest. There’s so much blood. How is there so much blood?

WHY MUST THIS BE SO PAINFULLL

His blue eyes find yours. They’re impossibly wide. “So—so stupid,” he pants and his face distorts in pain.

HE IS ON THE BRINK OF DEATH AND HE IS STILL TEASING HER IM SOBBING BUT THEYRE STILL SO CUTE

You scream.

I KNEW IT

You scream because nothing is okay, because you’re useless, because none of this should have happened and it’s all your fault, and you’re clutching Bucky’s hand in yours because maybe if you hold onto him tightly enough, he’ll come back and all of this will seem like a bad dream.

THATS IT IM DEAD NIKA YOUVE KILLED ME ALONGSIDE BUCKY 💀💀

Okay I needed to take time to calm down… even though I knew what was going to happen, I couldn’t handle all the emotions.

You swallow down the bile that rises in your stomach and carefully twist your rings around on your fingers, one after the other. All of them are completely pitch black, darker than you’ve ever seen them.

Why is it that even though I’m in the comfort of my own bedroom that I need to actively remind myself that this isn’t actually happening to me… the emotions are just so vivid

Still, you’ve never gone this far back. And isn’t this about making today a better day, really?

Mmmm something in my gut is telling me she’ll somehow find a way to make this day worse if that’s even possible

Damn those dopamines your therapist keeps telling you about.

lol this made me laugh, just hits a little close to home

“You used that one earlier,” you say, shaking your head in faux disappointment. “Are you running out of nicknames, Sammy?”

Their banter is EVERYTHING 🥰

You turn, surprised at the question, to find Bucky’s gaze lingering on your hands. Not for the first time, you silently curse his perceptiveness. “Yeah,” you say, crossing your arms.

Just his perceptiveness… or perhaps it’s his interest in you 👀

AHH AND THE ENDING!!!! I’m so excited to drive back into this series Nika, I know it’s your baby and I can’t wait to read all the love and care you’ve put into creating such a unique story, you’re fucking brilliant

My favourite thing about how you write is just how many emotions you can make me feel in such a short span, and this chapter is the best example of this, how you give a snippet of hope only to crush it each time (you’re so cruel for that but it makes me love you even more)

time after time [1]

series summary: After what starts out as a fairly normal mission, you find yourself stuck in a time loop. Which would already be bad enough in itself if it didn’t also mean having to watch Bucky die over and over again.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 6.0k

chapter warnings: canon-typical violence, accidentally starting a time loop, banter, pretty angsty to start us off with ngl, reminder to read the fic premise. please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: happy groundhog day and welcome to the first instalment of the series i’ve been sitting on since july. i’ve always loved time loop storylines, so i thought, why not indulge myself and put my own twist on it?

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

one: turn back the clock

Your mother used to call it a gift, but for most of your life, your powers had felt more like a curse.

It began when you were a toddler; small hops backwards through time barely noticeable to anyone but yourself, or an afternoon lost to everything speeding up around you. Sometimes, the world would just stop spinning for an hour or two and you would wander between the frozen people, crying and confused, until things finally picked up speed again and your parents would shout your name because you’d simply disappeared before their very eyes.

When you got older, you found out that this little quirk of yours could be useful every now and then. If a teacher asked a question you didn’t know the answer to, you learned to will yourself back just enough to keep up your participation score. It didn’t particularly feel right, but it was one of the few benefits your strange powers provided, then.

For the most part, you couldn’t control it, though. For the most part, it meant having to relive painful moments and rush through the good ones. It meant screaming into people’s unmoving faces until your voice got hoarse because you couldn’t figure out how to get time to move again.

You assumed what you were going through was what everyone was talking about when they spoke of déjà-vu, until you mentioned it to your mother one day and she sighed deeply and said, “oh honey, I thought it had stopped.”

Maybe your family had more secrets than you’d given them credit for.

“You’re such a special girl,” they would tell you later. Such a special, clever girl. This is a great thing, you know. It’s your talent to make things right, make them the way they should be.

It was your own mistake that you started to believe their lies.

*****

“Something is very, very wrong here,” you say quietly.

“You always say that,” Sam says, securing the room ahead and then nodding for you to follow him.

“Yeah, and I’m usually right.” Your fingers are itching for you to flick them and speed up this terrible silence so that you can at least know what’s going on. You ignore the urge, but keep one hand held out in front of you, your thumb and first two fingers pointing upwards. The other hand grips tightly around your automatic.

The hallway doesn’t stretch out very far, but what little of the low sunlight makes it in through the dirty windows gives it a strange, eerie atmosphere. Maybe that’s what you’re picking up on, you try to tell yourself. The air is thick with a stench you can’t identify.

“Lovely interior design,” Sam mumbles. You follow his gaze to a pile of bones that lie scattered in one of the rudimentary holding cells you’re walking past. A spider runs from his flashlight and you grimace.

“Sam,” you say, focusing on the half-extended wings on his back again. “Did you invent this mission to get us to go to a haunted house with you?”

He snorts lightly as he pulls the cloth off the crates that are stacked alongside the wall. There’s a single red handprint near the bottom right of each of them. You almost sigh.

“Do you think I’d pass up the opportunity to hear the two of you scream in terror when the vampire puppets creep up on you?”

“Gotta disappoint you, cap,” you grin and wait for him to check the map. “I only scream when there’s good reason.”

“I don’t wanna interrupt,” Bucky interrupts over the intercom, “but they’re heading your way now, so get a move on.”

“You’re no fun, Bucky.” Still, your eyes flick to your rings. Almost all of them have turned a deep black, with specks of emerald few and far between. Useless. “I probably only have one reset left. Two, if we’re lucky and you two aren’t being stupid again.”

“I prefer heroic,” Sam says and turns back to you, a concerned look on his face. “You alright?”

You nod. “Just haven’t gotten a lot of sleep since London.” Between Sam’s snoring on the plane ride back and the early mornings, you are currently running mostly on strong coffee and lots of sugar. “It’s gonna be fine. Just try not to get killed.”

“Good old-fashioned survival. Reminds me of old times.” Sam’s voice might be light, but you know him well enough by now to tell he’s still worried. Your stomach twists with it.

“Can’t say that, bud,” Bucky says. “Twenty seconds.”

“You need to repair Redwing,” you tell Sam. “Being the lookout makes Barnes cranky.”

“You forget that he’s always cranky.”

While you’re still bantering, you place the explosives you’ve brought next to the wall Sam has pointed out. It’s not the most elegant way, but there hasn’t been time to research key codes or break in quietly, so you’re going in with a bang.

Sam and you take cover behind the shield. The little timer starts counting down from ten.

“Any time, Buck,” Sam says. “Five. Four.”

Two shots find their marks outside. You turn your head to see one of the people in white fall through the far entrance of the hallway, holding their knee in pain.

“One.”

You shut your eyes just in time before the door gets blasted off its hidden hinges. A cloud of dust hits your face and you start coughing violently.

“Everyone alright?” Bucky shouts and you grimace at the volume of his voice in your ear.

“Yeah,” Sam answers. “Our wrinkle in time here just decided to inhale some metal.” He claps you on the back a few times until the grime has finally cleared from your lungs. “You good?”

“All good,” you rasp, roughly drying your eyes with your sleeve.

It’s times like this, you think, that your powers are truly the most useless. There’s no way for you to go back and unclog your lungs of whatever atrocities you just inhaled. You’re cursed to always stay exactly as you are.

“Are you guys waiting for a formal invite?” Bucky asks, walking past you without a single glance in your direction.

“Any more comin’?” Sam looks down the now opened entryway. Just like you expected, the lab on the other side seems empty.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Bucky answers, “but I’d rather not stick around to find out.”

You take a look over your shoulder back down the hall at where the white jacket is still lying, unconscious. In the gloomy light, there are strange reflections moving across their goggles, and you can’t help but frown as the uneasy feeling sinks deeper into your bones. Like a tingle that claws its way down your spine to settle in your fingertips. You pull your gun out of the holster.

“Don’t you feel like this is way too easy?” you say quietly, reassuming your position between the two of them.

“Yup,” Sam says, shield still held up in front of him. He keeps moving forward.

The lab is smaller than you expected, crammed with tables that are overflowing with strangely colored concoctions and stacks upon stacks of papers. You take a step closer, trying to make sense of the strange chemical formulas scribbled next to a bunch of tables and graphs. It’s not exactly your strong subject, though, and you can’t really concentrate with someone else breathing down your neck.

“You’re hovering again, Barnes,” you say without looking up, and feel his gaze move away from you. Even after all this time, he still doesn’t trust you one bit.

“This isn’t it,” Sam says, closing the last of the filing cabinets with a bang. “They must’ve cleared out before we got—here. Alright.”

Bucky makes him take a step to the side before hooking his metal arm into the cabinet and pulling. With a screech of protest, the entire thing slowly moves open to reveal a broad winding staircase leading downwards. Another wave of the horrid smell hits you, even stronger now, like something metallic that’s being set on fire.

“Show-off,” you mumble as you slip past Bucky and his smugly raised eyebrow.

The stairs go down deeper and deeper for a lot longer than you'd expected, lit by motion detector lights that turn your shadows into overly large figures on the opposite wall. It doesn’t ease your premonition in the slightest. Finally, everything opens up and you look down into a large, almost cave-like room. It extends pretty far backwards before it splits into several tunnels that remind you of the one you spotted when you got out of the quinjet earlier.

But despite the stone walls and your being several feet underground, it is surprisingly warm down here, probably due to the several giant containers placed along one of the walls that seem to be the source of the atrocious smell. They are also faintly glowing.

“Are we gonna get radiation poisoning?” you ask. “Because you definitely don’t pay me enough for that.”

“I doubt they’d send their own people ‘round the perimeter with nothing more than a face mask if those things were radioactive,” Sam says. “And you’re here voluntarily.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it,” you mumble, but you follow him anyway.

Unlike the lab upstairs, everything here looks orderly, almost pristine. Not a single sheet of paper is unfiled, the metal tables are empty and wiped clean. There’s a gentle whirring sound that leads your gaze to several monitors, some of which are showing different maps and security camera footage while others seem to be tracking the progress of some sort of test.

“Look at that,” Sam says, stepping closer to the containers. “What is that?”

A dark blue liquid is slowly dropping out of a hole near the bottom of one of the containers. Bucky kneels down next to it.

“Don’t touch that!” you say quickly and he rolls his eyes.

“I wasn’t going to.” Sam hands him a little glass vial and Bucky carefully scoops up some of the liquid with his left hand.

“Maybe we can send that to Banner, have him take a look.” Sam walks over to the computers and plugs in a drive. “We’ll make a copy of that for Torres and then get out of here.”

“What do you think that is?” you wonder, crossing your arms in front of your chest. Once again, this mission has you feeling unbelievably superfluous.

“Not the serum. Wrong color,” Bucky answers as if he could read your thoughts. He pockets the vial in his jacket and stands up. “You’re hovering again, Y/L/N.”

You’d roll your eyes, too, if you didn’t know that’d only make that stupid smirk reappear. “Can we leave before I do something he’ll regret?” you shout at Sam.

“That’s sweet,” Bucky smirks anyway.

“I think we have another problem right now,” Sam says, looking up from the monitors. “We’re getting company.”

Only a moment later there’s a thunderous crash and the table to your far left bursts into flames. You stumble backwards. Right overhead, there’s a large round hole where the floor of the small lab on the first floor used to be.

All of a sudden, dozens of people descend upon you from all directions, swarming the lab and surrounding you within seconds. They’re all dressed exactly the same, white jackets over their black overalls, identical white face masks and goggles, and matching black berets.

“Oh, this is like a nightmare flash mob,” you shout as you avoid the first kick to your face. “They must’ve sounded a silent alarm!”

“D’you think?” Bucky huffs, punching another white jacket in the jaw.

You aim your gun just as Sam flings his wings out, swishing your target off their feet. Behind them, another group closes in. You fire without a second thought, and three of them drop to the ground.

Just as you try to reload your weapon, someone rips it out of your hand and hits you across the face with it. You stumble, eyes welling up, as they grab you around the neck, dragging you backwards with such strength you are forced to the tips of your toes. Your heart is thundering with panic, unbidden mental images threatening to come back to the surface as you try to pry their hands loose to no avail. Black dots are starting to dance across your vision.

Then, there’s a sickening cracking noise, and the pressure is gone from your throat. You stumble forwards, coughing, before you’re pulled back to your feet, fast but not roughly. Blue eyes find yours, a look almost like concern in them.

“I’m fine, Bucky,” you gasp. “Thanks.”

“You tryin’ to suffocate today?” He hands you your gun back and you shrug, pressing the memories all the way back down again.

“Sam might give me a day off if I faint.”

Another explosion has both of you turn your heads up. A shower of glass splinters and burning pieces of paper rains down through the hole on the first floor, taking bits of the ceiling down with it.

“We better get moving,” Sam shouts. “If you take care of the drive and these idiots, I’ll clear the tunnels for a way out of here!”

Wordlessly, Bucky holds up his arm. Sam throws the shield, hitting two more white jackets in the face before Bucky catches it with ease. You kick another one of them in the groin, wrangling the weapon out of their grasp.

“Who the fuck brings a knife to a fight like this?” you shout.

“And what’s that thing on your thigh, you planning a picnic?” Bucky replies, holding up the shield to protect both of you from hailing gunshots.

“Well—it’s—tradition!” Each of your words is punctuated by a punch. “And why are you looking at my thigh, Bucky?”

Before he can answer, there’s a string of curses and the sound of breaking metal directly in your ear. You let go of your weapon as your hands move up, and it stops its fall in mid air as time screeches to a stop.

The sudden silence in the middle of everything that’s been going on would be disconcerting if you weren’t so used to it by now. Everyone is frozen around you as you turn and take a step from behind the shield to see what’s happening on the other side of the room.

Sam is still up in the air, and even from a distance you can see the grimace on his face and the splotches of red on his stomach. One of his wings is at a strange angle, and you look around quickly to find the white jacket still aiming the blaster that must’ve hit him.

You take a deep breath and reach backwards until you feel the old familiar tingling between your fingers. It’s fickle, like it always is, and all the more unpredictable because you’re tired. Still, you force it to wind back, if only a little.

Time resets with a start.

“—on your thigh, you planning a picnic?”

“Two o’clock,” you gasp.

Bucky reacts almost on instinct, taking out the shooter before they can do any harm while you punch your opponent in the face again. It takes you two more blows than last time to take them down. When you look at your hands, they’re shaking. There’s nothing but the slightest wisp of green left swimming in the black of your rings.

“I’m really gonna need you to not be stupid from now on,” you shout as soon as you catch your breath again.

Bucky curses. “Sam, we’re coming now. There’s too many of ‘em to wait ‘round for this stupid thing to copy.”

“Do you need me to come get you?”

“No.” He bashes a white jacket on the head with the shield and throws it against the last one that’s still standing. It doesn’t fly quite in the same elegant way as when Sam does it, toppling over itself and landing on the ground next to the unconscious guard. “Just get the jet started. Can you walk?” he asks you.

“‘Course I can walk,” you say, slightly annoyed, but your eyes are fixed on the monitors on the far side of the room. “I think it’s done.”

“Just get out of there,” Sam says through the comms. “I can see at least another dozen heading in up here.”

You look at Bucky and his eyes narrow at the resolute look on your face. It’s your fault you’re even here in the first place, though. You might as well fix it. It’s only going to take a second, anyway.

“No—” Time glitches. “—thing—” Time stumbles over itself. “—stupid, damnit!” Time moves at an unsteady pace and then moves again as you almost trip over your own feet, pulling the drive out of the computer and holding it up triumphantly just as Bucky reaches you.

“See?” you grin. “All good.”

And then the computer explodes.

You’re thrown against Bucky, who catches your fall somewhat, rolling both of you over and out of harm’s way. Your ears are ringing, and you can tell by the buzzing that your intercom is probably broken. Surprisingly, you both seem unharmed apart from that.

Bucky stares at you, face only a few inches from yours and fury still blazing in his eyes. It almost makes you want to laugh. In fact, it’s exhilarating.

“Do you wanna get out of here or what?”

He looks like he’s going to kill you himself. “Geez, I hate you.”

You get to your feet with a low snort, the adrenaline making you strangely giddy as you catch up with Bucky, who is already stomping back in the direction of the tunnels. “I think this was a great success,” you say lightly, stepping over another body. “If Sam hurries up, we might even make it in time for the fireworks—”

He catches you by the elbows and shoves you to the side in one fluid motion the same moment another shot sounds.

Your head whips around and you throw your knife without hesitation. The assailant slumps backwards. There’s still steam coming out of the blaster that never hit Sam, but you barely notice it. You fall to your knees next to Bucky, frantically pressing your hands on the wound in his chest. There’s so much blood. How is there so much blood?

“No, no no no, this isn’t happening. Bucky!” Your head is empty of coherent thought. There’s just panic. “Sam!”

“Ther—half a—”

You tear the broken intercom out of your ear. “Buck, you have to stay with me. We’re, we’re going to get you home, okay?”

His blue eyes find yours. They’re impossibly wide. “So—so stupid,” he pants and his face distorts in pain.

You feel sick to your stomach. “I know. I know, I’m so—I’m so sorry, I’m gonna fix this.”

You flick your fingers, again and again, but there’s nothing. There’s absolutely nothing. You don’t feel the pull, not even the tiniest bit of a quiver. You’re just grasping at air, your powers betraying you once again. A curse.

Bucky starts blurring in front of you and you blink the tears away, refusing to let him out of focus. “Please.”

With concerted effort, he raises his hand to lie on top of yours. “S’okay, doll,” he gets out, his mouth contorting a little. “Y/N. S’okay.”

And then his eyes glaze over.

You scream.

You scream because nothing is okay, because you’re useless, because none of this should have happened and it’s all your fault, and you’re clutching Bucky’s hand in yours because maybe if you hold onto him tightly enough, he’ll come back and all of this will seem like a bad dream. Maybe if you try again, and again, and again, you can make this go away, make it actually okay again, because you don’t know how you’re going to live with yourself if you can’t do the one fucking thing you were supposed to do.

Useless.

You don’t let go of his hand as you press your eyes shut and try to grasp at the edges of your power, try to feel the ridges and flickers in the fabric of everything, reaching out for something, anything, any point in time or space that they can connect to and drag you out of here.

And then they do.

It’s tiny at first, a miniscule spec of something, and you cry out again as you reach out. You feel like your soul is being stripped bare by the effort alone.

Then, it crashes over you like a tidal wave, knocking you forward into Bucky once again. You feel yourself covering his head, cradling it as if that would make a difference. It’s an almost automatic reaction.

Your self seems to expand further and further and shrink at the same time, way worse than it ever has when you’re using your powers, and you feel almost seasick. You press your forehead against Bucky’s.

“I’ve got you,” you whisper. “It’s going to be okay.”

There is an explosion of green light all around you that lifts you up into the air, and then nothing but darkness as you fade out of consciousness.

***

You wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume.

For a moment, you’re completely disoriented, staring at your surroundings in confusion. You’re in your own bedroom back at the Tower, your feet tangled in the sheets and eyes still bleary. You almost let yourself believe that it was all just a nightmare, another horrible dream conjured up by some subconscious remnants of the past, although even the worst of your dreams haven’t felt as real as what you just went through.

The idea is short-lived, anyway.

Your hands are still shaking when you lift them to your face. There’s blood all over your palms and stuck under your fingernails, leaving crimson stains on your bedding. Bucky’s blood.

You swallow down the bile that rises in your stomach and carefully twist your rings around on your fingers, one after the other. All of them are completely pitch black, darker than you’ve ever seen them.

Then again, you’ve never tried anything like this.

You clear your throat and take a deep breath. “FRIDAY?” you say cautiously. The music quietens as the A.I. comes to attention with a gentle tinkle. “What day is it?”

“Today is Friday, July 4th,” FRIDAY tells you.

You huff incredulously, your heart still pounding wildly. Somehow, you did it. It’s yesterday morning again. You actually did it.

Stumbling, you reach your tiny bathroom and stare at yourself in the mirror. There’s a tiny nick on your left cheek from where the white jacket hit you with your gun last night, but you couldn’t care less because you’re back. It worked.

You scrub your hands under the hot water until it runs clear again, still stunned. You can’t remember ever jumping backwards that far, not without feeling completely exhausted anyway, but right now, you’re strangely alright, even though the adrenaline is still rushing through your veins.

The mix of emotions running through your head is so confusing that you don’t notice the band around your wrist until you’re drying off your hands.

It’s so close to your skin it almost looks like a tattoo, partially translucent and glowing dimly emerald. Instinctively, you try to rub at it, but your fingers go straight through it and you feel a tiny spark of electricity. When you hold out your hand at the right angle, you can see it’s made up of tiny symbols forming geometric shapes, moving around your arm in a slow, seamless circle. The longer you stare at it, the more hairs stand up on the back of your neck.

There’s a pounding at your door, followed immediately by Sam’s voice. “Rise and shine, McFly! Time to get your ass kicked!”

You look at the clock on your bedroom wall. It’s shortly before 8 a.m., which gives you almost the entire day before you’re called on that mission. More than enough time to recuperate your powers and figure out a plan to make sure everything goes smoothly this time.

Until then, you just have to act normally.

“Not gonna happen, birdbrain!” you shout back, just like you did yesterday, and go through the pile of semi-clean gym clothes by the foot of your bed. As you get changed, you take another second to look at the strange emerald band around your wrist. Then, you pull a sweatband over it to camouflage it. You’ll deal with this later. For now, it’s training with Sam, a shower and breakfast.

And discreetly checking up on Bucky in a normal, non I Just Watched You Die kind of way. You can totally manage that.

“Don’t ever wake me up like that again!” you call out to Sam, closing the door to your room behind you.

He pushes away from the wall and falls into step next to you, grinning. “Sweet white teenage angst not your style?”

“You’re the worst.” The song is stuck in your head now, too, just like yesterday, but unlike then, you can’t find it in you to be mad about that fact. You did it.

“You’re in a good mood,” Sam remarks as you’re climbing up the stairs and you look at him in surprise. This is new.

Yester-today you didn’t talk at all on your way to the gym, what with you being both tired and annoyed at him. You’re usually wary about changing details during your redos, because the tiniest things can make the outcome of a situation unpredictable.

Still, you’ve never gone this far back. And isn’t this about making today a better day, really?

So you smile. “And that’s a bad thing?”

“Not bad,” Sam says, eyebrow still raised. “Suspicious, maybe. Are you gonna salt someone’s coffee again?”

“I did that one time.” You roll your eyes as you push open the door to the gym. It’s a lot smaller than the one at the Compound was, and you particularly miss the swimming pool, but the view from the Tower is without compare. Midtown looks magnificent in the early sunlight.

You drop your rings into the little metal bowl you keep next to the window and climb into the boxing ring after Sam, stretching your back.

“Let’s get this over with, then.”

Before Sam and Bucky found you, you hadn’t sparred for months and not exactly missed it. Training with soldiers and former assassins who held back every single punch and still managed to drop you on the mat with infuriating ease had never been very fun for you, and what with the universe saved and all, you hadn’t really seen the point in keeping up the practice once the dust blew over. Now that you’re regularly going on missions again, though, you have to stay in shape.

And although you hate to admit it even to yourself, there is something calming about being back in a routine like this. It keeps your head from getting stuck in the fuzzy grayness of it all. Damn those dopamines your therapist keeps telling you about.

Today, though, this today, your eyes are continually drawn to the door while you’re dodging and blocking Sam. It makes you sloppy even by your standards, which are mediocre at best thanks to your impatience. Of course it doesn’t escape his notice.

“What is up with you today?” he asks when he helps you get back to your feet for the third time this morning.

You dab the sweat off your face, hissing when you accidentally rub the cut on your cheek. At least Sam hasn’t said anything about that. “Slept weird,” you say evasively.

“Nightmare?” he offers with a compassionate look.

“Sort of,” you answer. “Feels a little … déjà-vu-y.”

“I know the type,” Sam says. “Wanna talk about it?”

You do. But the time stuff is your problem to deal with, and so you shake your head.

“Alright,” he says, rolling his shoulders back and raising an eyebrow. “Come on, then. You gotta get one kick in, at least, and hurry up, because I’m starving.”

“You could stop moving, then we’re done faster,” you grin. Your stomach is growling, too.

“Nice try, McFly.”

“You used that one earlier,” you say, shaking your head in faux disappointment. “Are you running out of nicknames, Sammy?”

“I’m not gonna be creative for someone who can’t kick above their waistline.”

“How dare you!”

You lose that round, too, but Sam deems you motivated enough to call it a day. He throws his towel over his shoulder and heads to the showers while you lay your head down on the mat and close your eyes for a moment. Waiting.

Yester-today, you didn’t hear Bucky come in, either. He was just sitting next to the ring when you looked to your side, hair sticking to his forehead and shirt clinging to his muscles, still a little damp after his shower. Then, you felt a slight rush of embarrassment at how much of a sweaty mess you were.

Now, you couldn’t care less.

“You look like shit.”

You turn your head and there he is. Living, breathing proof that you actually did do it. And for the first time in a long while, you feel nothing but gratitude for your powers.

Oh, fuck you, Barnes. If you’re sticking to the rules you’ve set for yourself long ago, that’s what you’re supposed to say, because that’s what you said the first time. Change as little as possible.

But even if you hadn’t broken them earlier, you couldn’t do it now. Not when you’re feeling this happy to see Bucky alive again. Alive and well, and slightly grumpy as ever.

So what falls out of your mouth instead is, “You’re looking good.”

Bucky squints at you and you smile at the way his cheeks are still slightly pink from his morning run, proof of his heart still beating. “Did Sam hit you in the head?”

You laugh. “Why, can’t I say that you look good and mean it?”

Bucky tilts his head slightly, but then shakes it. “Nah. You’re messin’ with me.”

“No, I’m not,” you tell him earnestly, sitting up to look at him properly. At his chest, solid and whole and moving calmly. “I’m just … glad you’re okay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he frowns.

“I don’t know,” you say, tugging at your sweatband. “It’s been a weird couple of days.”

“Yeah.” He looks at you for another beat, then he shakes his head again and gets up. “Take the towel on the right, I already used the other one.”

“Thanks, Bucky.” You smile at him again, but he averts his eyes.

***

“I probably only have one reset left,” you say, trying to ignore the chill that goes down your spine. “Two, if we’re lucky and you two aren’t being stupid again.”

“I prefer heroic. You alright?”

And for a moment, you hesitate. Because even though the rest of the day has passed pretty much exactly the same as it did the first time up until this point, you’ve felt the doubts creeping in ever since you laid down for a nap in the early afternoon, tossing and turning for the better part of an hour, only to find your rings hadn’t regained even the slightest speck of green.

You’re terrified of the moment you’re going to have to use your powers, because what if with this large jump, you overdid it? What if this time, there won’t be any redos?

No. You’re made of stronger stuff than your doubts, you know that. Things are going to be okay.

You nod with newfound determination. “‘Course I am. It’s gonna be fine.” You flex your fingers to reassure yourself. “Just try not to get killed.”

It’s a plea more than anything else, but of course Bucky doesn’t respond, not to you. Not to it.

“Can’t say that, bud,” he says instead. “Twenty seconds.”

But who’s counting? You close your eyes and hold your breath, balling your hands into fists so tightly it hurts.

“I don’t wanna complain,” Sam says as the dust settles. “But I did expect this to be more difficult.”

“Don’t jinx it, Sam,” you say wrily.

“You’re such a pessimist.” He still raises his shield a bit higher. “Any more comin’, Bucky?”

“Doesn’t look like it.” Your heart twinges slightly, but you bite your lip. Your job is to make sure the mission gets done and everyone stays alive. Both of those things, not just one. “I’m right behind you.”

The lab looks exactly the same as it did the first time, small and crammed and somehow even gloomier today, though that’s probably just your imagination. Now that you know to look for it, you can tell the file cabinet on the far side of the wall doesn’t quite touch the floor, something that Bucky must’ve picked up on immediately.

You feign interest in the papers on the table again, shuffling them to keep your hands occupied. “You’re hovering again, Barnes.”

“You sure you’re alright?”

You turn, surprised at the question, to find Bucky’s gaze lingering on your hands. Not for the first time, you silently curse his perceptiveness. “Yeah,” you say, crossing your arms.

His jaw sets, but he doesn’t comment on your dismissiveness. He just moves to open the cabinet. You don’t find it in you to say anything, and so he doesn’t look quite as happy with himself. It doesn’t give you any pleasure.

When the downstairs lab fills with white jackets, your stomach is still threatening to drop, but you grit your teeth. This is exactly the kind of situation you’ve trained for; the most important thing now is remembering the order of things. Like a dance recital.

Duck to the side. Bucky steps right. Wait for Sam’s move. Shoot. You take another step back before the white jacket can drag you away by the throat again and kick them in the stomach until they stay on the ground, which is a way kinder fate than yesterday’d brought them. You shudder slightly as you turn to look at the hole in the ceiling. Three. Two. One.

The second explosion goes off at the same time as someone shouts your name, and you whip your head around only to be roughly shoved to the side and fall the ground. A large piece of ceiling lands right where you’d just been standing. Which is obviously a different place than yesterday because you knocked that white jacket unconscious. Wow, you’re an idiot.

Bucky seems to agree. “Whatever’s happening right now, you gotta snap out of it.” There’s something about the look on his face that makes your blood boil.

“What’s happening is that I’m trying to fix this,” you say sharply.

“By getting yourself killed?!”

“We need to get moving,” Sam’s voice says on the intercom before you have time to reply. “If you take care of the drive and these idiots, I’ll clear the tunnels for a way out of here!”

Bucky stares at you for another second as if he’s trying to decide on the thing that’s most wrong with you right now. You shove him off you.

He rolls his eyes and gets back on his feet, holding up his arm for Sam to throw the shield his way. By the time you see the white jacket aiming their gun, they’re already pulling the trigger. You throw up your hands.

A surge of emptiness goes through you, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. Time seems to still for just the blink of an eye as Bucky’s head is thrown forwards.

And then you wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume. The room seems to wobble in front of you as you scramble to your hands and knees in bed, trying to get a proper breath of air.

“FRIDAY.” You almost flinch at the panic in your own voice. “FRIDAY, what day is it?”

“Today is Friday, July 4th.”

chapter two

thank you for reading!! you can follow my library blog @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications 💚

[andrewminyardslawyer]

The Golden Raven predictions/a few wishful thinking

Last time I got all of them correct so we'll see how this goes! Sorry for the length, there was a lot more detail and explanations this time around lmao I've posted some of these separately and will probably add more after my reread 🤷‍♂️

- Andrew and Neil go with Kevin to Cali. To keep up the childhood friend pretence, and Kevin can't go alone. Andrew talks to Jean about Bee, that she is trustworthy. Nothing extreme but like "talk to Bee" and nothing else but Jean understands (I actually doubt this is going to happen but I think if anyone's going to convince Jean it's okay to talk to her it would be Andrew based off of Jean's thoughts from TSC). I want Wymack there but I don't think he will be with practice already started for the year and the new foxes there. A potential Kevin and Renee combo because Jean needs support and Kevin can't go alone but Andrew and Neil need to stay with the team. Either way Kevin will have someone with him, he won't be able to travel alone

- Kevin and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. Talks to Jeremy more about the nest and we get more information on what Riko did to Kevin

- I hope the interview is not live or recorded, it needs to be an article and I want it to be done by Renee's mom even though I have no idea what kind of reporter she is. She would be the kindest option but I don't think we're in for a kind interview. I don't think it'll be completely disastrous though. Kevin knows what he's doing, he's going all the way to Cali specifically to support Jean, the interview is to control the rumors, I don't think it will crash and burn. The Kevin Jean conversation before/after however...

- someone on the team tries joking around with Jean and does something to trigger a panic attack, like splashing him with water or something

- Jean and Shane become friends. Shane is a little chaotic (he's a goalie, comes with the territory) and gets Jean to start changing how he thinks about things, he can relax a little and have fun

- Jean baby please seriously talk to Bee

- Jean crying. Please I need him to let it out!!!

- interesting to me that Jeremy's parents make him stay at the house during the week but he's free on the weekends and during the summer. Wondering if he was missing classes and he has to stay there so they make sure he goes

- mysterious potentially dead sibling is his stepfather's biologically?

- Thanksgiving break. Cat and Laila go to one of their families, leaving Jean and Jeremy alone at the house. Jeremy is required to attend Thanksgiving dinner and Jean is invited so he's not alone and Jeremy's step dad/grandfather wants to "get to know the new teammate"

- Annalise using the term investment for Jean seems like....a Choice. Pair that with Jeremy's meticulous tracking of money and his family restricting how much he gets, it seems like Jeremy has been irresponsible with money in the past

- Jeremy family event obligation. It was mentioned that if "If the Con-gressman needed a picture-perfect family for photo ops, the Knox family was duty-bound to dress up and smile bright for an exhausting number of cameras" (congressman is his step grandfather)

- "but there's bound to be a jerk or two once you pass four kids." Once you PASS for kids. Jeremy has more than Bryson, Annalise, and one mysterious probably dead other sibling. Potentially none dead and just cut contact? Maybe took sides with Jeremy's bio dad

- Jean's parents contact him some how but honestly I think if that's going to happen it will be in the third book. I feel like that part of the story won't really start rolling until then, like publicly.

- a scene with Jeremy talking to his therapist

- I feel like Jeremy's mom didn't marry his stepfather until recentlyish. Like the thing that "tore their family apart" was their parents divorcing after whatever went down Jeremy's freshman year. Or maybe they were divorced before that but still on speaking terms and the Event changed that.

- we find out what Jeremy's stepdad actually does. We know his step grandfather is a congressman but no information about his stepdad

- more of a personal wish but I don't want Jean to drink alcohol, like ever. I want him to learn how to work through things without it, I want him to avoid it because he doesn't want to become dependent on it, doesn't want to risk it

- Jean is average at pottery at first and that frustrates him that he isn't perfect at it immediately but it helps him learn that it's ok to not be good at everything or that slow progress is more sustainable

- depending on the timeline, Jean birthday. One of the team asks him when it is and they make a thing out of it on the day. Or no one knows but the coaches have it marked and one wishes him happy birthday during practice and the team, mainly the main trio/floozies, are like why didn't you tell us ☹️ and get him a few small things

- more Elodie conversations. The trio finds out

- find out what happen with Zane and Grayson but it's because Zane gets in touch with Jean after Grayson dies and they have some sort of discussion about it

- i've seen a million theories about Jeremy's backstory but none really bring his father into it and I think we need to focus on that a little bit more. Jeremy says he doesn't like people calling him by his last name, Knox, which must be his biological fathers last name because his stepdad's name is Wilshire. And he says ' "I've never been to Europe. Dad's been stationed there a couple times, but.." He shrugged and didn't bother to elaborate.' My immediate thought was military but with his mom remarrying a man whose father is a congressman makes me think Jeremy's dad might be more in that type of work than military because how else would she be in the same sphere as a congressman's son. Maybe high level military. Anyway! Jeremy doesn't want to use his father's last name either so something definitely happened with him as well. Whether it's two different things or all the same as the "scandal" Jeremy's first year. I don't really have a set theory about it but I do think he is involved in some way

[queenjunothegreat]

I know the last time I gave y'all a snippet from my Valgrace Hallmark fic it was sad, so have some absolutely disgusting flirting this time instead. >;3c

Leo made a comically disgusted sound. “Really? You’d put all my hard work to waste like that? I know I don’t like Audies, but she is a beautiful car. Surely you care about her a little.”

Jason involuntarily wrinkled his nose. “Uh, not exactly. Very few fond feelings about this thing, actually.”

Leo paused his work and looked up at Jason with one eyebrow cocked up. “Something tells me there’s a bit more to that story.”

Jason considered that and shrugged. “Not really. I mean, it was a gift from my dad for graduating law school. I mean, it’s a really nice car, and it’s useful when I need it, but I specifically asked him to not buy me a sports car because I don’t like driving.”

“Yeah? What did you want instead?”

“Promise you won’t make fun of me for being a rich kid?”

“You wouldn’t like me half as much as you do if I could make promises like that,” Leo countered, grinning like a shark. Jason just chuckled and dropped his gaze, seeing as he couldn’t even begin to argue. Leo poked him with the wrench in his hand. “Come on, nepo. Tell me what you asked Lawyer Santa for Christmas.”

Jason let out a heavily put-upon sigh. “Rome.”

“Rome? You asked your dad for a city and you wanted me to refrain from making fun of you?”

“No, not the whole city,” Jason corrected, rolling his eyes. “I just meant a trip. I’ve been obsessed with Ancient Rome since middle school, and I wanted to see it in person.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm. I actually went and got a tattoo when I found out my dad canceled my trip. Probably not my best decision, but I like it.”

Leo’s eyes were bright with interest. “Can I see?” Then he paused and looked at Jason suspiciously. “Wait, it’s not on your ass, is it?”

“One way to find out,” Jason quipped, reaching for his belt. When Leo turned vermillion and spluttered, he laughed. “No, it’s not on my ass. It’s on my forearm. Look.”

Jason rolled up his shirt sleeve and Leo shuffled around the car to do as he was told. Rough fingers delicately traced over the laurel design and each letter, leaving behind a grease smear and sending a shiver up Jason’s spine. “SPQR? What does that mean?”

“Senatus Populusque Romanus,” Jason recited. “It’s Latin for the Senate and People of Rome.”

“You know,” Leo said conversationally, still running his fingers over the crisp clear lines of Jason’s tattoo. “You told me I couldn’t make fun of you for being rich, but there’s one thing you forgot.”

“Yeah?” Jason asked, pretending he wasn’t starting to feel a little breathless. “And what’s that?”

Leo craned his neck to look up at him, his eyes sparkling and all of his teeth glinting like a smug crocodile. “You didn’t tell me I couldn’t make fun of you for being a fucking dork.”

Now it was Jason’s turn to splutter while he was laughed at. After a moment, Leo hip checked him and teased, “Don’t worry about it. Dork suits you. Very well, I might add.”