#something something you make me see things clearly without you i am blind

[wwillywonka]

jim getting angry at bones for blinding spock in operation: annihilate versus one half of jim's glasses shattering after spock dies in wrath of khan

[hello-eden]

 Surprise Reflection

Red robin feels like he has been hit by a truck. He has no idea why he feels like this. He knows for a fact he was drugged and not hit over the head but there are more important things to worry about.

He wakes up tied to a chair with both rope and handcuffs. it's going to take a minute to get out. He looks around at his captors who make it very obvious that his initial guess of cult is correct.

There's a summoning Circle in the middle of the room that they're working on. He has no idea what there's summoning. No one's turned around to look at him and started villain monologuing to tell him. He sees two other people tied up and he recognizes them. 

Red hood and spoiler in gear, which is an unexpected surprise he thought they were off tonight. Hood is still conked out but spoiler is awake and gagged. He wonders if she bit one of the cultists or if she tried Nightwings favorite tactic to be as annoying as possible. 

He's busy trying to unravel the rope silently all the sudden he hears chanting. That is the worst thing to happen at this moment. He has basically zero backup as hood is incapacitated and spoiler is just as tied up as him.

Red robin tries to is yelling at the cultist trying to figure out what's going on or at least distracting them with the fact he's awake but they don't seem to hear him.

A being appeared in a blinding flash of white light. There is an unsettling feeling in the air that seemed to emerge with them.

Their eyes glowing such a bright green that you could barely make out the shapes of their face. Their hair seems to come down to their hips alternating from black to white. Their body forming itself right in front of their eyes turning into something not quite human but trying to be. the being turned to survey the room from the cultist to the heroes trying to stop whatever ritual this was.

“ WHO DARES” the being said, sounding as if they've been insulted.

“ Oh great being of chaos and Power, we have come before you to ask for a boon ” one of the cult members came forward to say.

“what is this boon you wish for” The being asks clearly not wanting to be here.

 “if the mighty one would will it we would be most grateful to have the ones known as the Justice League destroyed”

 The Being stopped for a moment as if trying to figure out what the cult leader had just said.

“Is this a fu*king cult”

That stopped everyone in their tracks. 

“I would not call it a cult, I would call it a group created to promote your greatness.” the cult member says trying to save the situation.  

“ That's a cult,“ The Beings seem to start laughing as they realize who had summoned them. ”is this seriously what's going on. who the hell even is this Justice League that you've decided they need to be destroyed.”

“ They are people who promote the destruction of ourselves and have been working too stop the spread of your greatness.”

“ Your majesty,”  Red Robin says, hoping to swing this one there way as it's obvious whatever this thing it is not exactly fond of Cults. “We are Protectors of the place that these people have been trying to destroy.”

 “Are you trying to make me go against Heroes” The Being said, even without a clear look at their face you could tell they're in disbelief.

“You Dare,” The anger in their voice makes it very clear they are dangerous ”I am created from one of Realm's Greatest protectors. you dare try and make me destroy Heroes. I will enjoy giving you to the nightmare dimension”

Another bright light appeared though this time instead of just being inside the circle it covered the entire room. This time the light was a ombre of green and blue. Once the light dispersed all of the cult members seemed to have disappeared.

In the center of the room where the summoning Circle originally was stands a girl. her eyes are the same bright green with white hair but this time with a human face. A familiar face. She's wearing jeans with a constellation hoodie and matching Converse.

“apologies for the inconvenience I do quite hate when I'm summoned” The girl disappears just as she finishes speaking. 

It took Red Robin a while to realize what was confusing him but the second she left he realized. She had Damian's face. From the shape of his nose and the resemblance to Bruce even down to the bright Lazarus green eyes. She was a mirror image and he had no idea what that meant for them.

[graveyrdvamp18]

i'm bored, , so here's what i think of each lost boy

i'm gonna do this one vamp at a time so i don't get overwhelmed, starting off with this mullet king

david

• he's a self - proclaimed leader

since he's the first turned and seemingly the most mature one, as each boy joined the gang, he took it upon himself to look after everyone. cause he cared for them ? that could be a factor, but also cause of his controlling nature

• he loves to read

david seems like he secretly loves to read, and im talking about newspapers, too. he even has reading glasses. and i would know this cause i am the glasses. anyway, as far as genres, maybe horror, mystery, and throw in a little romance from time to time

• he is the most possessive of his belongings

this man does NOT share. and he will be mad if he catches anybody besides him with his stuff

• he is the smartest

okay so i'm not calling the others stupid, vampires in general are intelligent beings. i'm just saying david is extremely smart, but this is also what makes him very, very good at manipulation. a master manipulator, if you will. and it's not just with the mind games he can play, with his words, his expressions. he knows exactly what to do or say to get you

• anger issues

something tells me if he's not the one who comes up and speaks to you first, don't even try. he would probably just ignore you or tell you to go away. this is probably something he picked up from his father (not max), and i don't necessarily think it's shown in the movie, just from his energy, makes me think that

• not the biggest fan of sweets

i keep switching from serious to silly things, but that's just how i roll, anywayy. he doesn't hate sweets or candy, just could live without them. he hates the stomach ache you can get after, and probably how sugary they are. the only sweet i think he can handle is cookies, more specifically snickerdoodles

• david has the highest level of maturity

i've actually read about this on here, i can't remember the person's user, but i just remember how they talked of how he dresses and how he talks, and i have to say i agree. he does indeed dress and talk completely different from his three vampire bros. this also makes me think that david is definitely an old soul and he was probably forced to grow up instead of having the freedom of being a wild and care-free child

• black and red are his favorite colors

more specifically darker shades of red, he hates bright colors. probably would complain it's hurting his poor eyes and he's going blind

• cares about his health.. a lot

there's absolutely nothing wrong with caring about your health. although the man's main diet is bl0od, clearly they can still eat human food. he eats junk food still and is definitely always down for some pasta or a good burger, but he tries to maintain a healthy way of eating. maybe he tried encouraging the other boys to do so, but gave up cause he was getting no where

• keeps things clean

if he sees a mess, he cleans it. or gets one of the others to clean it cause they caused it. the cave is definitely organized, and that was probably thanks to David. cause you can see during any cave scene how it's an organized mess

• his favorite food is pasta

already mentioned this briefly, but please he would fck up olive garden. i just know they would hate to see him coming

• despises loud noises

this includes the TV being too loud, loud crunching, any kind of beeping and so on. it pisses him off

• stupid nicknames

can't stand them. the other boys definitely have silly nicknames for him like 'pookie' and 'davey' and so on, and he wants to curl up every time

• early birdy

as soon as the sun sets, david is the first to wake up. mainly cause he loves night time. even before he was turned, he was always a night owl. he probably snuck out into a field near his childhood house a few times

• writing

there's really no doubt in my mind that david loves to write. he has many journals stored away cause he considers them personal. he has such a high guard up that whenever somethings wrong, he turns to paper and pen. he also has the most beautiful handwriting out of all of them

☆ what he could've been

i feel like if david was never turned, he would've wanted to be in a major career. he would've been an excellent psychologist. he would've wanted to start his own family, and have kids, probably out in the west.

he misses this at times, the chances and hopes that he lost, but despite that, i actually think he loves being a vampire. he loves the chase, the thrill of it all. he loves doing whatever he wants, whenever he pleases

one last thing, this man loves music. all 4 of them do, really. i feel like he'd listen to anything that isn't rap or pop. he also listens to country but doesn't let the other boys know that, they'd probably never let him live it down

let me know what you think ! whether you agree or disagree, i'm open-minded

i love david, honestly. i know he wouldn't love me back, cause I mean, have we watched the same movie ? but he's still my pookie bear

[spaloonbabooguuscooties]

You could drink your whole life away and still never get that taste out of your mouth.

half commission for @salempie half completely self indulgent dreck pieced together from our insane conversations abt franke and elka. told myself id finally write a big explanation for all of the dum shit between these two for context so Thats Under The Cut.

so I already wrote some stuff about elka and franke's relationship back in whispering rock so feel free to look at that too . it goes over elkas blindness/‘seeing’ with clairvoyance and how her and franke started talking & all that good stuff

SO FOR STARTERS. a lot of thsi wont make sense without a big breakdown of elka herself. because elkas potential as a character is like insane to me. like just the idea of her in the long run of her life reads as something so potentially tragic; a young girl whos plagued with visions of doom and destined to be an outcast even in her own home for things she cant control and clings to the One vision of her wedding that she thinks is 'happy' even despite the fact she doesnt really love the person in it. im choosing to take the li-po doc as canon here because its funny shes the only one with backstory-

but my fucking god even the smallest look into what her parents are like is soo fucked up to me. and i do think elka especially gets a lot of influence from her mother; its funny how easily you can fit mabel doom into a box just from what elka says about her. knees deep in an avon-esque pyramid scheme and leaning into her daughters depressing ass visions & taking her to therapy at age 11 (which would be good if not for the kind of person you can already assume she is & so i doubt the therapist she has really does her any good. i think they share one). she reads as a very I Am My Daughters Best Friend type of mom to me and i can see elka being a centerpiece of the conversation when she has her Amway Girls over for drinks. wine-mom that lets her kid sip from the glass so she can feel like a big girl type deal.

and you can tell that elka is trying to hard to be too mature for her age even in her campster posts. how she writes letters to nils' mom and exchanges baking recipes with her and that feels like she really only interacts with middle aged women and not really many people her own age outside of camp (like her moms friends). which makes sense shed feel the need to ‘grow up’ early when shes probably had to process so many hard things at a young age bc of her visions.

theres a lot of filling the blanks here of course.

elka obsesses over nils to an overbearing degree even despite the fact he treats her like shit ('you promised no talking' and so on) and she treats him bad right back. she leans onto stereotypical heterosexual ideals like taking care of him and overblowing how Manly and Protective JT is and she admires romance stories like pride and prejudice and it feels like she Projects Soooooooo much of what she wants onto boys she barely feels anything for without knowing what its actually supposed to feel like. and clearly she WANTS that ideal future, a happy marriage, an actual romance- but according to nils even when they were dating she ignored him most of the time, which just seems Very Telling

like shes filling a role, overcompensating for emotions and lacktherof she cant digest quite yet, and it only makes more sense when you know shes had visions of their future together. how could that be bad for her? shouldnt it be like the books and movies? but she doesnt really connect the fact that her visions are only for Doomed futures, and if she does she certainly doesnt show it. Doomed relationships. it's been a part of her family for generations and she isn't turning out much different, is she? i dont think she even realizes thats all she ever sees yet, just that its Going to happen. that it's Her future, and it always will be

and like, her only reference for a real marriage so far has been her own parents, and she already Knows they have an affair, and theyre doomed to split, (and i actually like to think they were in rough waters anyway and elka was a child meant to mend a crumbling marriage but thats a whole other thing) and so without a framework for what an actual healthy relationship is supposed to be like she cant really grasp that her relationship with nils Isnt that and isnt ever going to be. she can only cling to this one happy idea of the future, and thats why she keeps chasing him, self fulfilling the actuality of her situation and creating and fostering the unhappy life they will inevitably live together.

and that bleeds into everything else in her life, of course, because as the years go on, as the visions grow in number it just makes sense for her to fall into the predictability of her life. she always knows whats going to happen, her visions are Never wrong- so why try to change things? shes had time to process tragedies days, weeks, months, years before they happen, shes had time to settle into every crack of her life. her parents divorce, her various break ups, her future with the psychonauts.

“and she's already seen so much of a future with [nils] she feels trapped almost. Like she has to be happy in it or else it just means her life is miserable. And it's a mixture of pride and fear of the unknown that keeps her clinging to the One thing she knows. BUT LIKE!!! She knows what's gonna happen! It's easier to grieve when she's been grieving for years... She wants so badly to be happy, But to do that she has to step into the unfamiliar. And that's more terrifying than staying the same miserable person she's always been.”

and thats where franke comes in— and yeah you Do have to take a lot of liberties for frankes character since it’s basically, like, all the info for her is just that shes a Supreme Baby Dyke but thats enough for me. i think she has protective butch itch in her . on campster shes defensive over other women evidenced in the way she keeps watch over the girls cabins for lili when elton is pursuing her . but shes also eager to please and constantly trying to make kitty laugh and also Very naive. but she tries! and i think it only solidifies more as she gets Older and really gets a hold of her feelings & her powers. this is incredibly franke to me

and i think as they grow older together— because i think franke and elka Do stay friends, both because elka is just pathetic and needs that positive connection even if she doesnt realize it and because i think franke is a very Loyal person & annoyingly persistent if you let her be . and i am also a kitty/franke truther. because kittys also important in this web we weave

because i think franke and kitty stay together after camp, to a point— theres a falling out facilitated on kittys end and they break up, but reconnect, and franke kind of... saves kitty from herself a little, from her strict military father whos love only extends thru finances , from her own stifling future , she drives all the way to bakersville in her shitty van handmedowned from her dad and they move in together eventually . they get jobs at the motherlobe , because it’s a pipeline to a decent job, because it’s whats easy, because franke doesn’t really have a future, because she’s never really been good at much, because shes never had much sense, because franke doesnt really care as long as she can live and help, sometimes, if she can, and because kitty’s there, and because elka’s there, and shes so used to being elkas eyes now and shes good at it. shes good at being the muscle of the missions when her colleagues lack it, when hypnosis and predictions arent enough. she likes it that way.

and elka appreciates frankes company. she listens, shes sweet, she does little things for her that no ones ever really put the effort for before; she likes her. franke is strong and bold and makes her laugh and shes always there but god elka cant let go of that future, of that box shes put herself in, that her mothers put her in, of being a Good Wife to a Loving Husband, of getting married normally and falling into unfailing familiarity. thats all shes ever wanted and shes not going to jeopardize that . not for franke, who may not be a boy but is handsome like one, whos always held her after every break up with nils and the men that filled empty days inbetween.

and elka is too stubborn to recognize those feelings anyway. too prideful to accept a way out. too set in her cycle no matter how much she hates it, her little self fulfilling tragedy of her own making, wallowing in her own doom. she struggles for control of her own life when she feels like every choice has been made for her anyway, she puts up her walls and carefully constructs what people see. but franke was always harder to trick, because while empathy isnt a particularly useful psychic power it’s certainly an inconvenient one. all franke has to do is get too close and all those carefully crafted walls fall apart, and elkas control is gone, and thats all she really has. and she tries to distance herself, really she does, but franke is also too persistent. and elka wears gloves, keeps contact that would make her walls crumble from happening as best as she can, but she cant really keep herself from the brief moments where she feels like someone actually fucking cares about her.

and that slightest lack of control, the need to wrestle it back is why she proposes to nils the next time theres a falling out— she knows how it happens, she plans every detail. and he accepts, despite everything. gets her a cheap ring and it feels like lead on her finger and its nothing at all like how shed thought it to be when she was a kid, theres no feather light feeling in her chest, only that dreadful reality that she cant turn this back. BUT WHAT CAN U DO LMAO

elka doesnt tell franke about this engagement until later, on their way back from a mission. late at night when neither of them can sleep, and franke invites elka to smoke in her van, because its been so long since theyve been alone like that, because elkas been so strangely absent lately. and because of everything, because frankes always so damn nice, because elka hates the feel of the ring on her finger, because she let herself get high alone with franke fucking athens whos always been so good at pulling her apart— the truth of it all spills out and its messy and emotional and she hates it, she hates the life shes made for herself, but franke makes it easier to bare and now shes here and shes so close and god she wishes she could see her smile again, she wishes she could see franke, thats all she needs right now and she cant but she can touch her and she can hold her and for tonight, she can be known, she can let those walls crumble, she can be something else just for once here with franke . she can kiss her here in this van, touch that happiness for just a moment, and forget the future that waits for her outside of it. franke begs her to forget the wedding, to just let herself be happy— and god, she wants to, but it means turning her back on everything shes known and everything shes saw to be inevitable, and franke has never been in her future, so if it were supposed to work out why hadnt she seen it and she cant, she cant take that risk but she can have this, even if its temporary, she can have it.

and just as soon as she gets a taste of it, its gone. after that night, after the missions over and theyre back at the motherlobe and have to pretend like nothing happened (franke doesnt, of course she tells kitty about it, she tells kitty about everything.) but that brief moment together haunts elka every time she sees franke, sees herself through frankes eyes, sees herself in her wedding dress because god its all franke can think about! of course it is! she knows how much elkas destroying herself she knows how much misery shes wallowing in that kiss in the van felt like an emotional punch to the teeth and she hasnt ever forgotten it and all she can do is sit and watch while elka throws herself into a loveless marriage. she can come to her wedding and see the way the bride and groom kiss with the emotional weight of a wet towel no matter how hard elka tries to hide it under a pretty dress and bouquets of flowers and meticulous planning.

and elka resents nils but she cant really hate him, its not his fault, not really. he feels trapped just like she does and his feelings of misery only cycle back into hers . they fight and gnash and wear away at each other and its a relationship thats crashed and burned a million times before elka even said i do. and its inevitable that she falls into her mothers habits, a sip of wine here and there to loosen up, until it turns to a glass, until it falls into a bottle on nights when whatever work nils does runs late.

but franke’s still there. shes always been there, hasn’t she? always trying to play knight, always trying to save her, dragging her home when shes stumbling over herself because god who else is going to do it but her? who else is left to care? certainly not nils. never nils. because franke knows her. because franke pities her. shes always pitied her. shes always known. and elka hates it, she resents it, but god in the same breath she’s desperate for it, she envies it to her very bones. elka is a mess but after frankes done with her she has someone to go back to that loves her. and god what elka wouldnt do to have that. to take it and keep it for herself because shes never ever got to have that movie romance shes always wanted.

so now comes this.

because elkas particularly miserable and particularly spiteful and she needs to get franke to understand, just for a moment, drink with her and get on her level and she needs her there with her no matter how her pity makes her feel. no matter how much it makes her shake with anger and envy and desperation, but god the way franke looks at her, the way she still tries to salvage what they have, the soft, slurred way she tells her that it’s okay but its not okay, none of this is okay, it never has been and she just wants franke to shut up and see that, and if she cant then she’ll show her, she’ll show her all the raw angry desperation, with too much teeth and hands that claw and grab and she’ll know why everyones always said she’s too much.

and she knows this puts her on nils’ level too. that this makes her a cheater, that shes no better than he is now. no better than her father and his affair. but god, she wants to be selfish. she wants to be in control. just for once. she wants to feel right and she wants to feel happy and she wants to feel loved. thats all shes ever wanted. and franke will let her have that, just for a little while, at the very least.

anyway. sorry. sorry for being crazy . this isnt even getting into the shit after the comic takes place . elkas stupid brainworld thag she has to overcome in order to finally be allowed in the polycule and live happily ever as worlds first lesbian divorceman

sorry for all the shit i make up instead of caring about actual characters with screentime . bye !

[stolitzsings]

This is a sort of response to a post I've seen floating around, drawing parallels between the chains in Blitz’s trip that bind him to Stolas and the chains that bind Husk, Angel, and Fizz to Alastor, Valentino, and Mammon respectively. I'm not commenting on that post directly bc I avoid Discourse (tm) at all costs for the sake of my health, and I don’t want to get drawn into an unproductive argument that will mess with my anxiety for a week. I'm not trying to start a fight, just get my thoughts out on why I feel that comparison is inaccurate, and hopefully provide some helpful context and nuance.

So! Let's start with a few disclaimers! First of all, I'm not going to debate the moral purity of any of these characters. I just don't think it's an interesting or valuable critique. On a related note, I am not trying to excuse any of their behavior. I'm happy to admit that my favorite characters in this show have hurt people and are sometimes total assholes. Stolas treated Blitz very poorly at the beginning of their relationship, frequently pushed or even ignored boundaries, and was just kind of a dick about things. My objection to a direct comparison between Stolas and the other characters mentioned above isn't because I think Stolas hasn't done anything wrong; I just think that saying they're similar without further clarification or commentary ignores the nuance of the situation.

Read on below the cut, it's gonna be another long one folks!

Let's start by examining the "agreements" forged by Val, Mammon, and Alastor. I think it's important to note that, in their cases, the person they got to sign their contract could have been anyone. Husk and Angel could have been any sinners, Fizz could have been any imp. They aren't interested in them as people; they were only using them to gain more power for themselves. The only thing that matters to them is, "What can you do for me?" Angel and Fizz quite clearly become cogs in the machine of Val and Mammon's businesses, and Alastor only thinks of Husk as a tool to be leveraged in specific situations to further his own mysterious goals. Each of them has demonstrated to their subjugates that they own them, body and soul. They have signed legally and spiritually binding contracts that essentially surrender their autonomy to a more powerful demon.

Stolas and Blitz’s agreement is... not that. In the most literal sense, they don’t appear to have made any sort of binding deal. They just made a verbal agreement, which I sincerely doubt has anywhere near the force of a signed soul contract. Additionally, Stolas did not ask for and does not seem to want that sort of total control over Blitz. He very clearly does not view this as any sort of power exchange (which may actually be part of the issue, since it leaves him blind to Blitz’s discomfort with their class difference), he sees it as "favors for favors." While this agreement is inherently unbalanced due to Stolas's status, it's worth noting that they’re both putting something on the line here. The other three risk practically nothing (if the person bound to them fails they can always get a new one), but Stolas IS taking on a real risk by letting Blitz access the living world illegally using his book. Again, that doesn't make his actions right, and probably helped him to justify them, but it does set their relationship apart from the others.

In my opinion, some of Stolas's greatest flaws are his thoughtlessness and his ability to justify his own actions to himself. This manifests in the fact that he clearly doesn't see the ways in which their relationship is hurting Blitz. He convinced himself that this was just an equal exchange, and a continuation of the dynamic Blitz established in their first encounter as adults: "I fuck you, and you give me the book". As he becomes more aware of his feelings for Blitz, though (stay tuned for a deeper analysis of this progression later), he also begins to realize that Blitz isn't happy with this relationship. And this, as @masonshmason pointed out, is the central fact that separates Stolas and Blitz from the other relationships. Stolas did not realize- or chose to ignore- how he was hurting Blitz. Once he came to terms with it, though, he understood that he had to make things right. He specifically says this in "Just Look My Way"; "I will try to make amends/ For making you means to an end". None of the others could say this, because in their case, that was the POINT. Angel, Fizz, and Husk were ALWAYS a means to an end, intentionally trapped for that purpose.

We also need to talk about the CONTEXT of the scenes in which the chain imagery appears. For both Angel and Husk, the chain is at least semi-literal, a physical (and perhaps supernatural) manifestation of the way their souls are bound to an overlord. In "Two Minutes Notice," Fizz purposely CHOOSES to represent his relationship to Mammon as chains around his wrists. However, Blitz's scene is part of a drug trip after being forcibly dosed with hallucinogens. It does not exist in any literal sense, nor is it a representation of Blitz’s conscious, literal thoughts. What it DOES do is showcase Blitz’s deepest fears and his greatest flaws through symbolism and metaphor. Blitz is not literally afraid of being forced to wear a clown costume; he is afraid he'll never escape his past traumas or Fizz's shadow. THIS is the context in which Blitz sees himself being chained by Stolas: a bad trip all about his fear of intimacy and vulnerability.

Stolas appears in this trip as someone elevated high above him, something he's climbing towards, reaching for, even though it means being chained to him. It's directly preceded by his ex girlfriend and his former best friend berating him for how he pushes people away even though he hates being alone. Then Stolas directly asks him, "Are you afraid to love people, Blitzy?" Furthermore, the WAY in which he is framed is alluring, slightly hazy, golden and tempting. It couldn’t be further from the ugly, slime-covered past he's fleeing. It's a new start, a chance for something better that seems too good to be true. This trip is all about Blitz’s inability to be vulnerable with another person. The chain around his neck is a representation of the fact that, by getting closer to Stolas, he's giving Stolas the power to hurt him emotionally.

And man, there's a part of him that wants to give Stolas that power. At this critical moment, he's not baring his teeth in defiance or anger. He's blushing, just slightly, and he looks... nervous. Blitz's instinct, when things get too real, is to cut and run. Hurt them before they can hurt you. Abandon them before they have the chance to leave you. It’s how he tanked his relationship with Verosika. This is a manifestation of what might happen if he stays. This is the sort of trouble he can't fight his way out of.

This is the emotional climax of the scene. There are so many ways they could have gone with this if they wanted to represent Blitz being chained and trapped by his agreement with Stolas. If that was the fear--if that was the POINT--they could have had the chains wrap around him until he couldn't move, or glow white hot and burn into his skin, or a million other more direct metaphors. But the chains aren't the thing that hurts him. It's the feathers: the thing that's left behind after Stolas abandons him, sing-songing "you're going to die alone" right alongside two other people who he loved and who now want nothing to do with him.

Finally, let's look at Blitz’s reaction to this scene. It's a moment of revelation for him, in which he realizes he's pushing everyone away and starts to make an effort to change. It's why he's a bit more open with Moxxie in the next scene. The trip sequence ALSO inspires him to get closer to Stolas, indicating that the trip didn’t make him realize "I'm trapped and I need to get out of this" in the same way Fizz did. Rather, he realizes that he doesn't want Stolas to leave him like everyone else, and he wants to start feeling out what it would be like to deepen the connection between them. As I've mentioned in other posts, their kiss at the end of "truth seekers" represents a level of intimacy that we haven't seen before; it's teasing, affectionate, shows Blitz’s interest in making Stolas happy, and takes place in front of M&M, who have repeatedly teased him about their relationship before.

In summary, while the image of chains may have been invoked in all four of these relationships, they don’t necessarily mean the same thing across the board. Blitz and Stolas's relationship differs substantially from the others in its dynamic, and the context of their scene also sets it apart. It's important to look into the details and the nuance of their relationship to interpret what's going on under layers of trauma and unreliable narration.

[jadewolf22]

Lipstick and Roses

Fem!Dom!Reader X Sub!Larissa  

Warnings: Biting Kink, fingering, eating out, face riding, biting kink (if you squint), fluff, ect… 

Word Count: 1,262 

You couldn't help but smile as you made the 10 minute drive from your flower shop in Jericho up to Nevermore. You looked over at the pale pink roses you had brought for your girlfriend, the school's sexy principal, Larissa Weems. The two of you had known each other from Nevermore when you were teens but hadn't started dating until last year. You, like Larissa, were an unusual outcast, a pyrokenetic. Larissa found it funny that someone prone to starting fires chose to spend their days surrounded by plants, but you loved your job just as much as she loved hers.  

Parking in front of the school, you grabbed the flowers from the passenger's seat, quickly making your way up to Larissa's office. You opened the door to her office without bothering to knock, surprised to find the room empty.  Placing the flowers in a vase on her desk you looked around the majestic room. The large, unique fireplace was always the first thing to catch your eye, the white granite standing out against the red and gold on the walls. All of the wood furnishing and accents were made of mahogany, a long leather couch sat in front of the fireplace, a matching set of chairs in front of Larissa's desk. You looked up at the golden chandelier hanging from the ceiling, noticing for the first time that the room's ceiling was one large mirror.  

Your attention was drawn to the doors separating Larissa's office from her personal quarters as soft sobs reached your ears. You walked to the door and turned the handle only to find it locked. 

"Larissa," you called softly, figuring Larissa was just watching a movie and had the volume up pretty high, "Baby, it's me. Can you open the door, please?" 

There was no response. Just more crying. 

"Larissa," you called again in a firmer tone, "open the door, please." 

Still no response. 

"Ris, don't play this game with me, please. Open the door." You commanded, turning the knob frantically and pressing your weight against the door. 

"Larissa, open the door!" you demanded, hitting your hand on the door.  

Still she ignored you, the sobbing growing louder. You sighed, mumbling to yourself as you pulled a bobby pin from your hair, carefully picking the lock. You opened the door, fully intending to scold Larissa, but stopping when you stepped inside. Larissa sat on the edge of her bed, her face buried in her hands, her body trembling while she sobbed. Little drops of blood ran down her arms from scratches in her skin. Behind the bed shattered glass from the broken mirror on her dresser littered the floor, a heavy book lying amidst the mess. 

You ran forward, taking her hands as you knelt down in front of her. Larissa looked at you through puffy, bloodshot eyes, with an almost guilty look. She clearly hadn't wanted you to see her like this.  

"Larissa, what's wrong?" You asked, a shadow of concern darkening you eyes. 

"I can't do this anymore!!" Larissa cried, more tears spilling down her cheeks, "I can't– No matter what I do I am never enough–!"  

Your heart shattered at her words. Over and over, like a broken record, she repeated them, each one stabbing your heart as much as hers.  

"Stop." you commanded in a gentle, yet firm tone as you stood up, "Stand up . . . there's something I want you to see . . ." 

Reluctantly, Larissa allowed you to pull her to her feet, leading her out to her office. Gently, you pushed Larissa down onto the couch, walking over to the door and locking it before turning back to her.  

"Lay down." you commanded, "Look at the ceiling." 

Larissa nodded, laying down on the couch as you came to straddle her waist.  

"You are more than enough, Ris." You whispered into her ear, pressing a kiss to her temple as your hands slowly began removing her clothing, "Anyone who tells you differently is blind."  

Larissa whimpered as you slid her dress off of her, pressing kisses to her shoulders and chest, sliding your hands underneath her and unclipping her bra, tearing it off of her and attaching your mouth to one of her breasts. Larissa gasped, grabbing at your back and shoulders, tearing her nails down your dress, tugging at the hem. You hummed, sitting up and allowing her to remove your dress and bra. 

Pressing your bare chests together you bite down on the junction of her neck, snaking one hand under the band of her underwear, inserting a finger into her aching pussy.  

Larissa moaned against your ear as you began pumping your finger in and out of her. You smiled, continuing to place bites over her neck and shoulders.  

"Keep looking at the ceiling, love," you whispered, inserting a second finger, "Watch me show you how much I think you're worth." 

Larissa whimpered and moaned as she watched you fuck her, tears slipping down her cheeks which you kissed away, the salty taste of her tears filling your mouth.  

"Y/n– Y/n, can I–?" Larissa struggled to speak as her walls closed around your fingers. 

"You don't have to ask tonight, darling," you whispered huskily, "Whenever you're ready . . ." 

Larissa came with a loud, broken moan, her body convulsing as she rode out her high on your fingers. The smell of her arousal  in the air turned you feral. You gave a low, animalistic growl as you slid down her body, lowering your face to her glistening cunt. Moaning, you slid your tongue through her folds, skillfully eating her out, her hips bucking up into your face. 

"Is this what you want, darling?" You growled, digging your fingers into Larissa's hips to keep her still, "You want Mommy to eat her beautiful girl out?" 

"Yes!" Larissa breathed, squirming beneath you as your tongue found a new, faster, rhythm, "Yes, Mommy– Oh GOD–!!" 

With no warning Larissa came, her cum flooding your mouth and spilling down your chin. You growled, licking her clean and wiping her cum off your chin, licking it off of your hand.  

"Y/n . . ." Larissa whimpered through her post-orgasm bliss. 

"Yes, love?" 

"Let me taste you . . . Please?!" 

You couldn't help but smile at how desperate Larissa was to please you, even when she was the one who desperately needed to be fucked. 

"Okay . . ." you whispered, "If it'll make you happy." 

"Yes, yes! Please, yes!!" Larissa cried, reaching her arms out towards you.  

You chuckled at her neediness, slowly crawling up to straddle her face. Larissa moaned in delight, pushing aside the fabric of your underwear and inserting her tongue into you. You gasped, gripping the back and arm of the couch for support.  

"That's it– Yes, baby, right there– Ah!" You praised, your hips bucking to match the rhythm of her tongue, "Such a good girl– Such a good girl for Mommy– Fuck, baby, you're gonna make me cum so hard– Shit!" 

With a final swipe of her tongue through your folds you came, riding out your high on her tongue as she quickly lapped up your cum, eating it as if she were starved.   

You rolled off of her, pressing Larissa between you and the back of the couch. You toyed with her hair, pressing kisses to every part of her face you could reach.  

"Thank you," she whispered, burying her face in the crook of your neck. 

"You are a fucking goddess, understand?" you whispered firmly, "Don't ever let yourself think you're anything less." 

Larissa nodded, quickly drifting off to sleep in your arms.

[myloveobbsessed]

Ｂｏｙｆｒｉｅｎｄ Ｙｕｊｉ

•••

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

Characters: Yuji Itadori x femblind reader

Notes: none

•••

Yuji is the best boyfriend you could ever ask for. He always puts your needs first, going out of his way to make sure you’re comfortable and happy. No matter what, he finds fun activities for the two of you to enjoy together—ones where your blindness is never an obstacle, only a detail he effortlessly accommodates.

•••

Yuji places his paint-covered hands over yours, gently guiding your fingers across the canvas. Finger painting together has always been one of your favorite activities—a messy, tactile way to create something together. You can’t see the colors he’s chosen, so you just have to trust that he hasn’t picked anything that clashes.

You pull your hand away from the canvas, reaching out to feel for the paint palette beside you. Once you find it, you hover your hand over it, trying to decide on a color. Before you can choose, Yuji grins and gently takes your finger, dipping it into a color himself.

“Ooo do this one”

You giggle at the excitement in his voice. “And what color is this, exactly?” Yuji hums dramatically, clearly enjoying keeping you in suspense. “Hmm… should I tell you, or do you wanna guess?”

You pretend to think, pressing your finger against the canvas and smearing the paint. “Well, knowing you, it’s probably something bright and fun… is it orange?”

Yuji gasps, feigning offense. “What? Just because I like orange doesn’t mean I’d always pick it!”

You raise an eyebrow. “So, is it orange?” A beat of silence. Then, he groans. “…Yeah.”

You laugh, reaching out to playfully smear some paint onto his cheek. “Knew it.”

•••

Yuji loves picking you up and carrying you around—not because he thinks you can’t get around on your own, but simply because he enjoys having you in his arms. Of course, if you’re ever uncomfortable with it, he’ll stop immediately.

He also adores the moments when you rely on him for things. Being able to help you makes him feel good, like he’s truly doing something meaningful for you.

“Yuji what is there?” you ask as he looks over the restaurant menu—a new place you two decided to try out. Your boyfriend begins reading off the menu. You carefully listen for anything that catches your interest.

“Oh! They have a this pasta it looks delicious, it has broccoli but you can just order it without if you want”

You smile at how quickly he remembers your picky eating habits. “You know me so well,” you tease, nudging his arm playfully.

Yuji chuckles, setting the menu down. “Of course I do! Gotta make sure my girl eats something she’ll actually like.”

He reaches for your hand across the table, giving it a small squeeze. “So, pasta without the broccoli, yeah? Anything else sound good?”

You think for a moment before grinning. “Dessert. Always dessert.” Yuji laughs. “Now that’s the easiest decision yet.”

•••

Though he can sometimes forget you're blind excitingly telling you to look at something on his phone.

“Hahaha! Babe look!”

You turn your head in his direction.

“Yuji..”

He freezes mid-laugh, eyes widening as he realizes what he just did. “Oh—oh, crap,” he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

You cross your arms, pretending to be annoyed. “Yuji, what exactly am I supposed to be looking at?”

He groans dramatically. “I did it again, didn’t I?”

You nod, lips twitching as you try to hold back a smile. “Mhm.”

He sighs but then quickly perks up. “Wait! I can just describe it to you!” He scoots closer, grabbing your hands excitedly. “Okay, so there’s this dog, right? And he’s wearing these tiny little sunglasses, and he’s just vibing on a skateboard—like, full-on pro skater mode!”

Despite yourself, you chuckle. “Alright, that does sound pretty cute.”

“Right?!” Yuji grins, squeezing your hands. “I promise, next time, I’ll remember to just tell you first.”

“You say that every time,” you tease, shaking your head. He huffs playfully. “Yeah, but this time, I really mean it!”

•••

Yuji always makes sure to ask before touching you, never wanting to startle you. Whether it’s as simple as holding your hand or leaning in for a kiss, he softly lets you know first, giving you the chance to anticipate and welcome his touch.

A soft smile forms on your lips as you nod. “You don’t have to ask every time,” you murmur, tilting your head slightly. Yuji chuckles, his breath warm against your skin. “I just like hearing you say yes.”

Before you can reply, his lips press gently against yours—warm, soft, and lingering, as if he wants to memorize the moment. His fingers lightly brush over the back of your hand, grounding you in his presence.

When you pull away, he rests his forehead against yours, fingers lightly tracing circles over the back of your hand. his voice is barely above a whisper. “I love you.”

You squeeze his hand, your smile growing. “I love you too.”

•••

[eddiemunsonw]

Like a dog

Gator Tillman x fem!reader

Summary: Happens after Gator gets his ass kicked in episode 2. He clearly needs some help, but he's independent, right? He can take care of this himself, for sure.

CW/Disclaimer: A bit of angst? Gator is having some inner struggles and you're doing your best to accommodate him. And yeah, a bit of misogyny in there too, nothing too strong though I would say. Also some fluff and humor, I barely can do without.

Author's note: The title is misleading, but it'll make sense once you start reading it.

Words: 2319

Gator

His ears were ringing, but apart from that no sound seemed to be coming in. He vaguely noticed his cheek was warm, realized it was blood and tried to not freak out. It wasn’t that he was scared of blood, not at all. Sometimes he even got a little kick out of watching things, people bleed. Just not himself.

Then… there was his arm. That was a problem for sure. He had felt the snap, heard it, even, before that asshole used his gun right next to his ear. Last but not least, his groin. His balls and dick felt like they had grown thrice in size in the bad way. He didn’t think there was any enlargement of balls in the good way anyway. But… Yeah. It really fucking hurt.

Getting to the ER was a challenge too. His father was occupied and he didn’t want to ask for his help for something so insignificant. He was independent. He could just walk. Once he stood upright, he felt like dropping to his knees again, his vision swimming. Everything hurt so much it was nearly blinding. He would’ve thrown up if… wait, had he thrown up? He tasted blood but he had also bitten his tongue, so… Whatever. One step at a time. And fingers crossed that shitbird wouldn’t find him.

You

The crash, followed by a yelp and a cry of pain startled you as you were restocking supplies. You rushed to the front and found a guy, a familiar guy, on the floor, holding his arm as he groaned in pain. Quickly, you kneeled down on the floor next to him, gently touching his shoulder.

“He—”

“Don’t touch me!”

His whole body tensed up and he twisted away from your touch. In the moment, it didn’t register to you as funny even though a bystander could probably see the humor of it as he wiggled away from you, groaning and moaning in pain as he did.

“I assume you’re here for a reason. How about we get you upright and in the chair, so I can check you out?”

Gator finally lifted his head to look at you and squinted. You noticed he was sweating, which wasn’t good. His eyes narrowed even more and a scowl pulled the corners of his mouth down.

“Are you even qualified?”

“Do you want help or not?” you deadpanned.

He managed to lift himself up to lean against the door and tried to cross his arms but remembered one wasn’t really cooperating and winced.

“Are you qualified?”

“To take care of dogs? Yeah, I am.”

Gator’s eyes flamed and you could tell he wanted to lurch forward, probably grasp your throat to shut you up. It didn’t help that you were smiling at him. Lucky for you, he was in too much pain to act on his deepest desires. Instead, he nearly spat the words out he said next.

“What are you calling me?”

You laughed dryly. Gator Tillman. He hadn’t changed a bit since school.

“Funny you immediately assume I’m talking about you. You’re at a vet. This isn’t the ER, Gator.”

“Oh,” he mumbled, taken aback. Only now he actually properly looked around. He seemed to have a hard time focusing his vision still. “What kind of bad business are you running here? There’s no one! Also that’s Sheriff Tillman for you.”

You looked at him, rolled your eyes and walked to the back to make yourself some coffee. He could wait. If he wanted to act like an entitled brat he should have gone to the actual ER. You knew barking dogs rarely bite. After a few minutes, he called out.

“Hey! Are you gonna help me or not?”

“Depends,” you shouted from the back, “are you gonna stop acting like a dick or not, Deputy?”

A silence. One that dragged on long enough for you to walk back to the front with your coffee in hand. Maybe you hadn’t heard the door open and close? Wrong. His eyes met yours immediately when you looked down, lips pressed tightly together, whether out of pain or annoyance with you, you weren’t sure. You gave him a pointed glance and a quip of your brow, waiting.

“Yes.”

With some help, you got him to sit on the examination table, which immediately required a remark from him, of course.

“Can this thing even handle my weight?”

You eyed him up and down slowly, a slow smirk forming. His frown deepened as you let the silence settle between you and he shifted uncomfortably on the table.

“Yeah. You look like you weigh about the size of a chubby golden retriever.”

“I workout every day!” he spluttered, as if that was the point.

“Okay? Point is, it can take you. No need to worry your little head over it. Anyway… let’s see.”

You could feel Gator’s eyes following you as you gathered some supplies, knowing you wouldn’t be able to help him with everything. The best you could probably do was give him a ride to those that could. You turned around and lifted your hand to his face, gently wiping away the blood that had leaked from his ear. His hand grabbed your wrist tightly when you came closer to his ear and he hissed out in pain. His grip was painful, but you could tell by his ragged breaths that he wasn’t doing it out of malice. He was scared.

“Hey…” you started softly, leaning back to look at him. You stood between his legs and while you were smaller than him, were able to see eye to eye due to the height of the table. “You do need to go to the ER. Get you checked out. I can make you a temporary splint for your arm but I don’t wanna mess with it too much as it’s not my expertise to work on humans. I can give you a ride? Is there anything else that hurts?”

He mumbled something incomprehensible and avoided your eyes.

“Sorry?”

“My junk. I think I need to like, cool it or something,” he said reluctantly. You nodded and walked away from him to grab a gel pack from the freezer, but the hand around your wrist stopped you. As you turned around he was quick to avoid your gaze once again and dropped your wrist.

“You might want to take your pants off.”

“Hah?”

“For the gel pack,” you mumbled as you placed a gel pack wrapped in a towel next to him. He frowned but started fumbling with the button of his cargos anyway. You already wrote a note to stick on your door that you’d be out for a bit and added the emergency number of the nearest vet just in case.

“Fuck!”

His voice startled you and as you turned around you noticed he was still struggling with his button. His vest was slightly in the way as well as his belt, which didn’t help.

“Need help?”

“No.”

He continued to try, frustration rising. The soft whimpers and groans made you pity him a little. After a while he looked closer to crying and you couldn’t just stand by and watch. You made your way back, standing between his legs again and gently swatted his hand away. To your surprise, he didn’t object. Instead, he softly gasped, stammering softly as your hand accidentally grazed him. You were unsure whether it was out of pain or… something else. A quick glance at his face confirmed that he was focusing on your hand, lips parted slightly. His usual slicked back hair was messier than usual and only now you noticed the dried up tear streaks on his face. You pulled down his zipper and stepped back so he could get off the table. He slowly lifted his gaze, cheeks slightly flushed and if you weren’t mistaken, his lower lip trembled a little.

“Can you stand?”

Quietly, Gator pushed himself off the table and stood in front of you, taller again. Except, he looked rather small, looking down at his feet like that. He sighed shakily, making no move.

“Do you need help, or…”

He shook his head and pushed his pants down just enough to reveal his boxers before getting himself back on the table and covering himself with the gel pack. A sigh of relief was heard but other than that, he made no comments, no snarky remarks. Very uncharacteristic really. Or maybe it was just him without the forceful mask on his face.

“I’ll grab something for your arm, I’ll—”

You turned away from him again but before you could step away you felt his hand enclose around your wrist again. The gel pack fell to the ground with a soft thud.

“Don’t.”

“I…” you hesitated on what to say.

“Please.”

His voice sounded fragile now, shaky. You nodded and slowly bent down to grab the gel pack and handed it back to him as he let go of your wrist again. While you weren’t sure what he wanted, you made sure to stay. There seemed to be a lot going on in that head of his. Suddenly quite aware of your close proximity, you didn’t know where to look. Even though his crotch was covered with the gel pack, it was still weird to stand between his legs as his cargos dropped below his knees and slowly sagged down. Your gaze was focused to the side, which is why you didn’t immediately notice how he slowly bent forward until his forehead rested on your shoulder. It sounded like he was holding his breath, anticipating your reaction nervously. 

Without thinking, you put an arm around him, your hand soothingly rubbing circles between his shoulder blades. A shuddering breath left him as he relaxed against you. A few minutes in, at least it felt like some, you felt him tense up again. Not much later you felt something wet dripping down your collarbone. He was crying.

“If it’s hurting that badly, maybe we should…”

“No,” he croaked out, arm reaching out to clutch at your hip.

“Okay. Take as much time as you need. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. I’m weak,” he managed to grunt. You weren’t surprised that a guy whose father was Roy Tillman had some deep self-loathing to deal with. In school it had always been obvious he felt pressured about living up to his father’s expectations. To be deserving of the Tillman name. He was as cocky as he was insecure. Still, no amount of pain justified being a grade-A dick to others. And yet… here you were, comforting the classic example of a grade-A dick.

“I don’t think you’re weak at all. Weak people don’t call themselves weak,” you told him softly, continuously rubbing his back. His breath shuddered when you gently readjusted the gel pack for him as it was slipping again.

“As if you know anything about weakness or strength,” he bit out, “you’re a female.”

“Right,” you mumbled, unimpressed. “Guess you’re weak then.”

A silence followed, apart from his soft sniffs, a reminder of his earlier crying. You felt him lift his forehead from your shoulder, breath tracing your jawline before his lips followed in its path. Your breath hitched, heartbeat quickening. Suddenly, his lips crashed on yours, demanding intimacy, taking it with some desperation. His lips felt chapped and for a second you were tempted to meet the roughness of his kiss but something in you held back.

In one quick move you pulled back and slapped him in the face. On the sensitive side, no less. He winced and looked betrayed, hand flying up to grab your wrist once more, tightening his grip until it hurt. You watched him closely, careful but not scared.

“Better not try that again without asking,” you warned.

“Or what?” Gator mumbled, his mouth curled down. Clearly not used to not getting his way. Well, too bad for him it had been you he wanted to kiss.

“Or I’ll squeeze your bad arm as hard as you’re squeezing my wrist right now.”

As if forgotten, Gator looked at his own hand and let go immediately, huffing a response you couldn’t make out clearly.

“Well then, shall we go?” you offered, not wanting to drag this out any longer. His injuries needed to be taken care of already. With clear disappointment he got up from the table and he let you help him get his pants back in place. The moment his hand reached out for your wrist you quickly pulled away and he looked up with genuine remorse. Hmm, interesting.

“Sorry,” he sighed and this time you let him take hold of your wrist, surprised when his touch was gentle as he rubbed his thumb over the most sore spot. “You’ve been all nice to me and I’ve been…”

“Yourself,” you finished with a shrug. Hurt crossed his eyes only for a second and you followed his gaze down to your wrist, where his touch was still so gentle.

“I’m not always like… that. I’m not.”

You cocked your head and watched him until his eyes met yours. There was a hesitance in them, but also determination. A soft smile graced your lips, which was met with the subtlest widening of his eyes.

“Maybe you could tell me more about that other you then, after we’ve patched you up.”

“Oh,” he said softly, followed by a nod. “Okay.”

“Come on, Sheriff Tillman.”

He smiled at your sarcastic, teasing tone and moved his hand down to yours to give it a light squeeze before letting go.

“Gator,” he corrected softly. “Just call me Gator, Y/N.”

“I was wondering if you’d remembered my name,” you chuckled.

“I always remember the pretty ones.”

“Flirting now, are we?”

“Maybe.” 

He tried to play it off cool. Until curiosity got the best of him. 

“Is it working?”

“Maybe.”

It was.

If you enjoyed this fic, please comment and/or reblog! It spreads my fic to other people to enjoy whereas a like does not, as much as I appreciate those too :) It would mean a lot <3

[world-dream-polin]

(Sorry for the mistakes, english is not my first langage)

I don't usually say things, but I wanted to share some opinions (it's gonna be long, so buckle up 😅) :

1. The SAG awards were amazing those two are unhinge and choatic and GORGEOUS ! Like, why do they act like they have NOT seen each other in give years like it been less than 24 hours, they are at the same hotel, and they are shooting together this week. Like COME ON GUYS! I agree that no matter the relationship now or in the futur, it's magical. And that's why we are all so hooked/obsessed. You don't see this enough in life, such a pure love. Now I'm the first one to tell you men and women (when both are straight) can be friends without falling in love, saddly I have not wittness it and all the ones I know fell in love 🤣 it was just a matter of time.

2. Time, let's talk about it! Some of y'all are WAY TO IMPATIENT (I am too thought 😅), but because something does not happen now, does not mean it will ever happened. "You can't hurry love, you just have to wait!" And that's the thing here, just wait and see ! Now I have some theories about Luke and Nic not acting on whatever feelings EVERYBODY can clearly see : 1. They are clearly blind and in denial and it will take FOREVER for them to wake up. 2. They are scared of rejection and non of them wants to risk the incredible friendship. 3. Some body was rejected (might be more Luke because sir is the most crazy one, and look the least happy when not around Nic), but we know NOTHING so it's spéculations. 4. They refused to date a co-star and mix pleasure with business. That is SO PLAUSIBLE ! So I'm like, let's wait until the show is done...so in 50 000 years basically 🤣! Joking, maybe Luke and Nic will leave earlier after perhaps Eloise's season 🤔, but that's a topic for another day.

3. I'd like to continue by making a parallèle with Blake Lively and Ryan Reynolds (reminded people they are married with 4 kids), they met on set and it took about 6 years to REALISE they could date. They dated other people while being friends, help each other get friends and even went on double dates with respective ex-parterns... Sounds familiar guys? So a follow on insta means nothing, if anything, it means everybody is cool, and Luke and Nic being supportive of each other is more important than any adjacent. Now, yes the timing is wierd, but it took me 4 YEARS to follow my best friend's boyfriend, and they were together before I met her. Now crazy enough, she left him three months after I follow him 🤣.

4. I'd like to close the statement with saying that the adjacents are better than me. I'm their age (24 going on 25) and if I saw my partner acting with their friends/co-worker the way Luke and Nic are, I would spiral, break down, cry and be out of here. Like, they really are better than me 🤣.

5. Now, what I think about the adjacents as a whole and their relation with Luke and Nic are a WHOLE other thing. I think I sated how I feel in some comments here and there. But what I like to do is ignore them as much as possible. Them being a thing does not minimised the bond of Luke and Nic. I'm not delulu because I know Luke and Nic aren't together, but them together (even platonic) just brings me joy. Now I will remind for the slow ones in the back DON'T SEND HATE TO ANYONE! If/when you don't like someone/something either don't follow them/block them and ignore it exist. And if somebody reminds you those things/people exist, accept the fact that it does and just it ignore it again. It's going to be fine! But directing you're frustration and anger to people you don't know WILL CHANGE AND DO NOTHING!

Now, ladies and gentleman, those are my thoughts, good day to all 😁.

[radioiaci]

@truearchangel ⧐ How is… how is he supposed to explain this without sounding insane? Or without saying he created this entire illusion in his head that clearly Alastor didn’t see himself? How is he supposed to explain he—thought they were more than they were? That he doesn’t think you just make out with someone and brush it off as “that was nice Pal do it again later”? It sounds insane when he now adds the context that the way he saw this was entirely one sided. Like he… well, that he liked Alastor more than he liked Michael clearly. He didn’t want to make this any weirder than it already was. He didn’t want to make Alastor feel bad or uncomfortable. Though he clearly also had in his head the wrong assumption about this. That it was over some nicknames that he looked up. Which wasn’t the case, he’d hardly be petty over something like that. But clearly it up also meant explaining the truth and that—that just wasn’t an option either. He was upset now. “You’re a very ridiculous man and I am a fool, that’s all it is." How can he just make out with someone and share moments like they had and not—feel anything over that? Maybe Michael was just that much of a blind idiot.

UNPROMPTED ASKS.

If it was not about the nicknames, it was about something. Something that he did not fully understand. Without any experience to draw back on, the only thing he could pull from were conversations with Vox prior to -

The thought deeply unsettled him, causing him to cut it off before it could run away with him.

"If you are a fool it is because you won't talk to me," Alastor said, a bit of nervous bite in the statement, if only because he was now trying to curb the rather rapidly rising anxiety that threatened to make him run entirely.

"I said or did something to make you upset. Tell me what it is. I've got no reason to lie to you about... Anything. Tell me what I did wrong."

He did not want to make the same mistake again that he'd made seven years prior.

Was desperate not to, in fact.

[silence-burns]

A Snack of Mine

Fandom: Spider-Man universe 

smut 18+

The smashing noises coming from what Miguel called “the control room” sounded expensive. You may not have been an expert in all things technical, but you were pretty sure the room was in the process of a violent remodeling. 

“Right,” you said. “And you expect me to do what exactly?” 

“How am I supposed to know? It's not me who's usually had to restrain him in this kind of state. It's not my fault no one wants to get close to him. They kinda have a point, though.” Lyla flew around your head, ethereal as ever.

A crash louder than the previous ones came from behind The Door To Miguel's Lair. 

“You do realize he's just ripped a monitor off the wall?”

“You do realize I have no physical presence to do anything about it?” 

Point taken. It didn't make you feel any better and Lyla’s constant spinning didn't exactly help you get your bearings.

You waved your hand through her before the colorful but pixelated display of her panic blinded you completely. If it was an option, you would've gladly allowed anyone else to take your place. Sadly, none of the currently available Peters had a chance of getting to Miguel through his fury.

And hunger.

You sighed before moving towards The Door of Doom. 

"Miguel, I come in peace!" 

The kind of snarling that came from the other side was not something a human throat should've been able to handle. 

"Be a good, nonlethal boy for 10 minutes and you'll get a snack. Maybe even McDonald's!"

The silence that followed was heavy enough to imply precisely where you could shove all the burgers in the worlds, but it was better than blinding rage; you were already making progress! You shoved the door open, quickly closing it behind your back. You clicked the lock into place.

It wasn't sturdy enough to keep any of the Spidermen out, but it served as a symbol. You walked into his lair, and now you had to deal with the consequences.

Miguel was meticulous in his fury. The room used to serve him as both a personal space and one of his less official offices, where he spent time thinking and planning without anyone bothering him. He was the head of the squad meant for suppressing the threats to the entire multiverse, so he had to deal with a never ending stream of things to take care of. A little bit of private space was a healthy solution.

Unfortunately, due to the circumstances called Miles Morales Versus Bad Decision Making, the otherwise pleasant, calming space was now in pieces. Literally—half the furniture lay in ruin spread across the floor like rubble after an explosion.

"I think you missed a few." You kicked away a rather big part of what used to be a desk. "You gotta be more thorough, man."

As much as you wished to feel even half as confident as you sounded, it was a rather difficult task when the only part of Miguel you could see were his eyes, glowing bright red and piercing you through, unblinking. The only source of light was dim and came from behind the broken furniture. The outline of Miguel's body was hardly discernible from the darkness of the room, but you swore he was towering over you more than usual.

And completely still.

"I really hope you aren't too sentimental, because there's no way anything here is savable. You gotta invest in a proper punching bag, or maybe two just in case—..."

"You think this is a joke?"

His voice was low and on the verge of growling. The situation with Miles definitely got under his skin.

"Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer to face my problems with a healthy dose of humor rather than destruction of my belongings. You've got claw marks on your walls, Miguel, come on. Don't you think it’s a bit too dramatic?"

Before you could blink, he was on you. Your back hit the wall just inches from the mentioned claw marks—deep, sharp, and clearly torn through with a lot of force. Looking up into Miguel's glowing eyes and the barely hidden fangs, you knew how capable he was of using said force.

Miguel leaned closer to you, his hand holding you still by the shoulder. Pressed between him and the wall, you could feel your pulse rising, and it was only partially thanks to the heat emanating from Miguel's body.

"The structure of the whole multiverse could be destroyed because of one person."

His voice was so low you could barely understand the words growled from his clenched jaw. Miguel's eyes burned to the point where you could no longer turn your head away. It was hypnotizing and a part of you didn't want to fight it.

"He's a child, Miguel. He's fifteen and his whole world just came crashing down on him."

"It doesn't give him the right to destroy everyone else's."

"No, but he's scared. Scared children need supportive adults, not claws in their faces."

Miguel's eyes dipped down over your lips for a split second, but something shifted through his posture. Still tense, his voice got quieter and lost the aggression. You were so close together that he was almost whispering in your ear, and yet you couldn't hear anything around but him.

"And what would you prefer me to do?" he purred.

"Everyone is already looking for Miles, so let his friends talk to him first once he's found. He has nowhere in the multiverse to hide forever."

Miguel's hand moved from your shoulder to the side of your neck. The claws retracted and now his touch was almost gentle. You missed it, just as you missed the kind of heat that was rising up behind the flaming red of his eyes, different from what most people ever got to see. Something reserved for you.

You turned your face to the side, letting his fingers caress your cheek. Miguel froze, entranced by the way his thumb rested over your lip and how your smile seemed to widen when you noticed too.

"I prefer you like this," you said, making your voice come out as barely a whisper. In his state, Miguel would've heard you from another room. 

You didn't notice when it happened, but he was closer now, imprisoning you between himself and the wall. You both inhaled at the same time, chests pressing together a moment. His whole body was tense and wrapped tight around you. His thighs crushed yours and you wouldn't be able to move away even if you wanted to. 

"I know what you're doing and… this really isn't a good time."

"You say it with such a scary look on your face, and yet you do nothing to stop me."

Miguel's nostrils flared when you put your teeth over your bottom lip.

And pushed.

Miguel's hand wrapped around your jaw, holding your face up towards him. His fingers dug into your skin, the gentle caress long gone. There was only a firm hold and a predator that smelled blood.

His pupils narrowed in a split second and the breath he took was shaky, as if he wanted to smell every bit of blood rising from the tiny cut.

"You've been on that artificial shit for a long time now," you cooed. "But we both know it can never be quite the same as the real thing."

You could see him trying to say something, but nothing came out of his mouth. You stood on the tips of toes and brushed his lips with yours.

It was as if an electric shock struck his body. Miguel growled as he forced your mouth open, and then again when his warm tongue licked the blood smeared over you. He forced you back down with one push of his hips and you could feel him growing harder despite his spider suit. 

He sucked on your lip, hungry for more, just as his other hand found its way onto your hip and held it firmly against his own.

Miguel's open-mouthed kisses were growing sloppier as he followed your jawline and down the side of your neck. You couldn't help but push your fingers into his curls, marveling over how soft they felt and how perfect they were for grabbing his head and moving it just to the spot you wanted him at. 

Despite the urgency of his need and all of his senses blurry, Miguel let you guide him, breathing in your scent. There were no words to explain how much he missed it every time you had to go back to your own universe and leave him thinking, wanting and alone.

Miguel loved the way your nails sank into his hair and tugged harder every time he scratched your skin with his fangs. He couldn't help himself when he heard the softest of moans leave your throat and felt the way you kept grinding yourself over his cock. Miguel bit your shoulder hard when your hand wandered to his still clothed shaft and lightly scratched over the thin, bulging fabric.

"You're really testing my patience," he breathed into your skin.

"I hope you earn a good grade."

Miguel's hand moved from your hip to the bracelet controlling the features of his suit, but you slapped it away before he could take it off. You pressed harder over his erection, stretching the suit more.

"Who said I'm gonna let you rush so much?"

"I really don't think we have the—..."

A loud knock on the closed door made you both jump. 

"They found traces of Miles' signature!"

Miguel pushed his head into the crook of your swollen, tender neck, cursing with passion in Spanish. You may not have known the language well, but some things were truly universal.

You kissed his temple and brushed his wide shoulders. "You've got this."

Miguel took a slow, deep breath of your scent, noting all the various changes in it. But he did not budge.

"Prepare the team," he finally shouted back. "I'll be there in five minutes."

He caught your eyes widening and smiled ominously. The flaming red was shining through his own eyes again. 

"I have something to take care of first."

[plasmas-arcade]

Bucky Has a Thing for Spiders and Redheads - 18+

Collaboration with @over-usedlittlespoon

Summary: The Winter Soldier experiences passion and humanity for the first time, getting him and Black Widow in some hot water.

Themes/Tags/Warnings: Smut 18+, Angst leading into smut, bucky as the winter soldier, rough sex, abuse by HYDRA

Word Count: 3.9k

The Winter Soldier is a simple object. A simple thing to please. It craves attention. Craves validation. It watches a woman block punch after punch and is angered by the way its handlers look disappointed in it. Humanity flashes in the asset’s eyes as it watches the woman through the blinds of her window, its own not too far away. Their missions rarely overlapped like this. Such was luck as the asset felt something in its gut at the sight of her built form, hard to see through the gaps in the shades. It was not to grow attached. It was not to feel.

Natalia senses his presence. She had noticed him watching her, observing her. She couldn't be sure he wasn't asked to do so by the handlers, or if he really was taking interest. It was hard for her to believe anyone would take interest in her like that. She was nothing more than a weapon, after all, just like him. 

"Quit hiding." She says casually as she cleans her weapon, making sure it's fully functional and loaded. "Come out."

The asset doesn’t jump. Barely reacts as it fully pushes open the window to its temporary apartment, climbing out onto the fire escape. For once the asset is dressed casually, a baggy shirt and soft looking pants hugging its form. If the asset had a choice, it would wear its uniform to bed, but the handlers did not approve of the way it slept. Such fickle people. “I’m not hiding.”

Natalia was in a loose-fitting t-shirt herself, and a pair of soft shorts, exposing her pale, toned legs. 

She brushes some red hair behind her ear, quirking a brow. "Fine. Not hiding, lurking. Quit lurking." She says, holding up the weapon to inspect it, then setting it aside. 

"Why are you watching me?" She asks suspiciously, looking him over. Like this, he seemed less like a soldier. More human.

The soldier perks at the question, mulling it over as it swings down to perch itself in Natasha’s window, its bare feet gripping the windowsill so it does not fall back. “You are not like the other soldiers.” It’s not sure what it means by that, but it’s sure the asset will figure it out.

Natalia narrows her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. "I haven't done anything wrong. There's nothing to give to the handlers." She says coldly, fully expecting the soldier to be spying on her so she could be punished.

“…You interest me.” Unlike the other soldiers, curiosity cannot be removed from its mind. It was not trained from a child. It can be dehumanized, but never controlled fully. Its memories will continue to return. Memories of who it once was. “Who are you, Widow?”

Nat hesitates, her expression remaining neutral. She wants to unmask, let her guard down. She wants to so badly. But she knew better than that. 

"Natalia." She says simply. "The best product of the Black Widow program and fully trained asset." She says, the line clearly rehearsed. "I am nothing else. You know this." 

Even she knew that she couldn't hide the humanity in her voice. Remnants of what they weren't able to erase. Memories of a life before.

She sighs. "Who are you, Winter Soldier?"

“James.” It shows her the tags from under its clothes. “At least, I think I am.” 

It doesn’t know what itches it to move into the room. Getting closer to her. Too close. 

It is unarmed. Not a threat to her safety, but a threat to her mask. A threat to her skillful black heart. 

It felt yearning for once in its life. Not even before HYDRA did it feel yearning like this. A need to know her. It has heard story after story about Black Widow. A woman who could kill without being given a name or face. You can’t hide from someone like that. 

It didn’t want to hide. Not anymore.

Natalia blinks, her eyes widening slightly. James. An actual name. She didn't think he would have one, or at least, remember one. Soldat was never addressed by a name. 

She tenses up as he gets closer, but she doesn't move. Just the brush of his clothes against her skin was exhilarating. Non-combative human contact, for once. She didn't want to run away from it. 

"You shouldn't know a name." She comments. "Where did you get those?" 

She carefully touches the tags, inspecting them.

“A soldier works better with sleep. I found them. Wear them at night. They help me sleep-“ It hears rustling behind the door, and the asset is gone. Almost like it was never there to begin with. 

It is gone, but the tension in the room lingers. The passion. The humanity.

Nat's face starts to soften, then returns to neutral as she hears the rustle. She turns to look, then when she looks back, he's gone. 

And she wants to see him again. 

It isn't long before they are on a mission together again, walking down an empty, broken Slovakian village street. Everyone is either hiding in their homes, or gone. Nat and Bucky were here for the aftermath of the initial covert attack. 

Nat stops outside a shop window, staring into it. In the display is a little doll, with a pink, frilly dress. She tilts her head, her face impossible to read as she observes it. She seems to forget where she is, forget Soldat is nearby.

The soldier grips its weapon tighter as it notices her get distracted. “Eyes on the job, Widow.” It takes note of what she’s watching. Takes note of the way it can’t seem to read what she is thinking. It watches her with attention it didn’t give to anything else, not even its work. 

It pays one last glance to the doll in the glass window, letting its metal fingers press against the fragile material. It would smash through it if it didn’t think about how the doll would be ruined by the glass shards. 

“Let’s go, Widow. No time.”

Nat snaps out of it, shaking her head. She quickly composes herself, her expression hardening. "Right." She says, not apologizing. Not showing weakness. She quickly turns on her heel, marching down the street. 

Stupid. She was stupid. Stopping for a silly doll. What did she care for a doll, anyways? She was a soldier, that was it. How many times did she have to be told? 

She spots a young man in camouflage and doesn't hesitate to take out a handgun and fire, instantly blowing a hole through his head. His body crumples to the ground. 

"идиот." She mutters. Idiot.

The soldier follows along, watching her. If anything, it felt like it was on babysitting duty. Why was it needed here when Widow was so powerful on her own? It’s question is answered when the two of them return to their rooms battered from an explosion. The job was done. That’s all that matters as it approaches her window, before hesitating. It finds itself glancing down at the street. 

It knows what it has to do. 

It ventures out to the street, searching through the block, its metal arm covered by a sleeve and a glove so it will not be spotted.

Natalia cleans herself up, looking tired. She wraps a gash on her arm, not wincing as she ties it off with her teeth. 

She pops herself onto her bed, her wet curls springing wildly from her head. She falls face-first onto the mattress, groaning softly. She was glad Soldat... James... Was there today. Made it easier than usual. Plus, he wasn't a chatty company on missions, which she liked.

There’s a loud crack as the asset snaps the lock off Widow’s window. It clambers inside once it has the window open, sitting on the windowsill. “Natalia.” For the first time it addresses her by her name. It has something clutched in his arm, but it’s hard to see the object from the poor lighting.

Natalia shoots up, grabbing a pistol from under her mattress and aiming. Luckily for James, she spots it's him, and relaxes. "Jesus, you..." She almost said 'scared'. "Try knocking next time." She huffs, stuffing the gun back under her mattress as she sits down. 

She looks away from him briefly, a tiny smile curling at her lips. 

He called her by her name. 

"What's that?" She asks, motioning to his arm as she looks back over to him.

The asset pads over, its boots making little to no noise as it steps towards her. It sets the small thing on the mattress, backing away slightly. 

It looks for approval on her face. 

It has left her a gift. Like a cat leaving a rat at your door and hoping you accept it as a token of its love. 

A doll. A doll in a frilly dress. A doll that looks like it had been carried delicately. Not a speck of dirt or grime. Pristine and perfect. 

The asset wanted to be perfect for her.

Natalia looks suspicious as he comes over, but her face very slowly changes as she sees what he's placed in front of her. 

She stares at it for a long moment, then carefully takes it, brushing its hair with her fingers gently. She then holds it to her chest, drawing up her knees and curling up like a child. For the first time in front of the soldier, she smiles. 

"Thank you." She says softly, her eyes glistening as she looks up at him. She stays curled up, leaning back against the wall and toying with the pretty dress. She looks at it fondly, her face seeming younger. Like ten years had been shaved off.

The asset looks pleased that it’s done something good. Something good that wasn’t asked of it. 

The soldier watches her fiddle with the toy, its eyes softening, if only a little. It was a weapon. One with a use. One it wasn’t so sure of after seeing the youthful look on this woman’s face.

It approaches her carefully, pressing the doll against her chest. 

“They cannot take this from you.”

Natalia looks a little sad. "They might find it." She says quietly, hugging the doll close. She looks at James with worried eyes, knowing that they wouldn't stop at taking it. They'd punish her for having it too. 

"I won't tell them you gave it to me, if they do." She assures him, smiling with a kindness she hadn't been able to display in a very, very long time.

The asset nods, before picking its hands up, signing something at her, before it darts out the window, barely making it up to its room before someone barges into it, yelling in a mix of Russian and German at it. That was something they had done for a while now. Something that disoriented the asset and made it lose track of its thoughts. Its body collides with the wall and it doesn’t fight back as it is beaten. 

“We are free when we are together.”

Natalia covers herself with her blanket, hiding herself and the doll as she cuddles it close. 

She repeats the phrase he signed in her head. 

"We are free when we are together." 

She closes her eyes tightly as she hears the yelling, placing her mind somewhere else. Somewhere that was fuzzy, but wasn't erased. 

She's able to hold onto the precious gift for a little while, until naturally it's found. A handler has her on her knees in front of other officials and soldiers milling about, shaking the doll in front of her face and spitting in Russian. Natalia grits her teeth, her eyes swimming with tears as she's scolded.

The soldier tries not to watch, keeping its eyes on the money and weapons it’s sorting into its bag. It knows if it admits to having given the doll to her, it will be so much worse for the both of them. 

No one pays attention to the soldier. The soldier goes under the radar. The soldier can do what it pleases as long as it is not caught out of line. It never has been. The soldier is a good toy. 

A toy. A toy they play with whenever they please.

Natalia yelps as her hair is grabbed, and the handler drags her as she kicks. 

"Tell me why I shouldn't put you in isolation!" 

"Please! It was just a doll, I'm sorry!" She cries, and the man stops, kicking her harshly in the stomach. 

"Look at you! Crying! Soft! Pathetic!" He snarls, kicking her again so she falls onto her side. She cowers from him, knowing better than to fight back. 

"You are not a person, soldier. You are a weapon." He bends down, grabbing her by the throat and pulling her up. "Say it." 

Natalia chokes, clawing at his arm. "I'm... Not a person..." She gasps. 

"Say it!" 

"I am... A weapon..." 

The man shoves her down, and she coughs and gasps for breath. 

"I think a few days of isolation would be good for you." He says, and two men in matching uniforms grab her up by her arms, dragging her to an elevator. 

The soldier was aware that the isolation rooms weren't carefully monitored. People were lucky if someone came down three times a day to leave food.

The soldier came up with excuse after excuse. 

“She needs to be taught a lesson.” It snaps as it shoves past a fellow soldier, marching down the hall until it rounds the corner. It sighs, padding down the hall until it reaches her door. “…Natalia?” It crouches down, pulling out the food it had packaged and hidden under its shirt. It slides the food under the door to her.

Natalia has curled up in the corner of the small, concrete room, sniffles echoing off the walls. She hated this room. She hated, hated it. 

She wipes her face with her hands as the food is slid into the room, and she moves over to it, taking it carefully. "James?" She asks, her voice barely above a whisper. "You shouldn't be here..."

“According to them, I’m beating you.” It sounds pleased with its excuses. The soldier is trusted. 

The soldier obeys.

The soldier wants a new master. Wants a smarter master. The soldier wants her to control it, just as she’s controlling its emotions.

Natalia can't help but chuckle a little. "Good. Smart." She says, moving her hand to take his from under the door. 

"Thank you, James. You are kind. A kind man." She says, emphasizing the human terminology.

“Kind soldier.” It corrects, taking her hand in his flesh one. It felt wrong to touch her with the weapon attached to its body.

Natalia squeezes his hand gently. She'd bring the human out in him eventually. Just like he did for her. 

"Stay with me for a bit?" She asks hopefully. "Just long enough to say you got in a good beating."

“Fine.” The soldier huffs, pushing the door open and slipping inside. “…Do you mind loud noises?”

Nat shakes her head, unwrapping the food he brought. "Nope. Go ahead." She says, knowing what he's about to do.

The soldier lets out its pent up emotions on the poor metal chair in the room, bending and contorting it as the asset screams in Russian.

Natalia watches him as she eats, observing the emotions on his face. "Good." She says between bites. "Get it out."

“The asset is a good toy. The asset behaves and does what it is told. The asset is nothing without its handlers.” The soldier punches the wall harshly. “The! Asset! Doesn’t! Feel!” It punctuates each word with another punch.

Natalia carefully stands up, placing her hands on his shoulders, hushing him gently. 

"James." She says softly. "James, look at me."

The asset pants as it calms down, looking at her with fiery eyes. “What?”

Natalia gently takes his face in her hands. "You aren't a toy. Not to me." She says carefully. "With me, you are just James. Okay?"

“The asset obeys.” It fires back, tears gathering in its eyes.

"I know." She says, caressing his cheek gently. "I know. It's okay." She smiles sadly. "We are free when we are together, remember?"

“I want you. The asset doesn’t want.” It bites out, its hands shakily touching her hips.

Natalia nods. "That's because James wants me." She says, letting his hands move wherever he likes. "It's okay. You can touch me." She says, gently moving his hair from his face.

“It’s okay?” The asset looks hesitant as its hands raise, nudging under her shirt. It doesn’t remember the last time it did something like this, but the memories are hot and stir something in it. It’s cock starts to harden, pressing against Natasha’s thigh as it pulls her closer.

Natalia nods, her breath quickening. "Mhm." She says, taking his hands and guiding them under her shirt and to her breasts. "There you go." She says, smiling softly. "A treat, since you were so kind." 

She reaches down with one hand, gently cupping his oversized cock. "That for me?" She asks with a small chuckle.

The asset’s cheeks tinge pink as it averts its eyes, its hands showing an eager, more dominant side as it unclips her bra from the front, cupping her breasts. It gasps softly, a soft moan leaving it as her palm presses against its hard cock. “I-I think so.”

She doesn't feel afraid of him. This isn't one of the handlers using her like an object. James is safe. James is different. 

"Take me." She whispers in his ear. "I want you inside me." She purrs, then gently kisses his neck, rubbing his trapped cock teasingly.

The asset spins them both, pinning her down on her back against the cold metal table. “I want you. I need you.” The asset reaches down to unzip and unbutton its pants, moving them and its boxers down enough to expose its thick and throbbing cock.

Natalia grins, pushing her shirt up and wiggling to get out of her pants. 

"I'm strong." She says, looking him in the eyes. "I can take you." 

She pulls off her shirt, exposing her pale breasts, firm from the muscle underneath. She leaves the pants for him to enjoy taking off, smiling up at him excitedly. She hadn't felt like this... Ever.

The soldier is ginger with taking her pants off, its face flushing more at the sight of her nearly bare. “You’re my freedom. My ecstasy. My love.” It admits, tired of watching from afar. Tired of pining for a woman it could only dream of having. It runs its hands along her body, before spitting on its flesh one and slicking up its length.

Natalia pushes herself up, grabbing his face and bringing him into a passionate kiss. "I need you James." She whispers into his  lips, "I love you. The real you." 

She carefully takes away her panties, her pussy already wet and slick from excitement. 

"Show me your love."

“Thank you, Natalia.” It kisses back with everything it can. It might not be human yet, but it sure as hell felt like it. It uses its metal fingers to spread her lips apart, pushing its cock into the waiting heat, groaning with pleasure as it’s taken in.

The sheer size causes her to cry out, falling back on the table as it moves deeper inside her. "Fuck!" She moans, not worried about noise - they think she's being beaten, after all. 

She looks up at James with flushed cheeks, her expression vulnerable. She was willing to submit to him. Only him.

“Good girl. Good… So good…” The asset watches her unravel under it, pushing its cock until its balls press against her ass. It pins her down with its metal hand, its flesh one moving to squeeze her thigh. 

“Everything I am. Everything I know. I will give it to you.”

The redhead whines as his cock pushes so deep that a bump appears in her belly, and she looks up at him adoringly. 

"You're mine, aren't you?" She asks, reaching up to touch his face. "My sweet boy..."

“There’s nothing sweet about what I’m about to do to you.” It growls, pressing against the spot its cock is pushing at.

She moans, squirming under his metal hand. "Fuck me!" She barks out, "Do it!"

It smirks at her, pulling its cock out before shoving it back in in one swift motion, setting a pace of fast and harsh thrusts. “Take it then!”

She cries out as he thrusts inside her, and she claws at the metal table. Deep giggles of lust bust from her lungs, and a lazy smile paints itself on her lips. 

"Yes, yes! Good boy..."

The asset leans over her, digging its nails into her thigh as it thrusts, not remembering where it had learned to do things so vulgar. 

"How does it feel? How do I feel?" It's not sure in which way it is asking the question.

Natalia moans loudly, her back arching. "So good! You feel so good, James..." She says, making a point to use his name. "Hold me," she says, wrapping her arms around his neck.

The asset hefts her up into its arms, "Legs around my waist." It holds her by her hips, pinning her body against the wall as it gets a deeper thrust with the different position.

Natalia wraps her strong legs around him, letting out a sharp cry as he moves deeper inside her. "Fuck!" She claws at his back harshly, nipping at his neck.

"Not too hard. They'll know." It moves one of its hands up to her neck, wrapping it around and squeezing a bit.

Natalia chokes, her face turning red as she loses her ability to speak. She still smiles, however, her body moving with each thrust.

The asset is harsh and rough. Not because it was trained to be, but because this is what it wanted. It wants to hear her desperation. The sound of skin against skin and its metal hand knocking against the cold and hard wall. It loosens its grip, snarling at her. “Start talking. Want to fuck that voice right out of you.”

Natalia cries out, gasping for breath as his hand is removed. "Fuck... Fuck!" She growls, "Fuck me like you mean it! Do it! Oh, god..." She moans as she feels him drive his cock deeper.

“Bet I’m so damn lucky, ain’t I? Getting this body all to myself.” It reaches out to play with her chest, its body tensing up as it nears its orgasm. “I-Inside?” It looks hesitant, like it is undeserving of her body.

She nods quickly. "Yes, yes inside. Please." She grabs his face, pulling him into a kiss. "Do it!" She cries, bucking her hips to help his cock go even deeper inside her.

The soldier groans as its cock is milked by her tight pussy, its cum easily filling her up as it thrusts through the aftershocks.

Natasha tenses as she orgasms, then relaxes, letting herself enjoy her now sensitive pussy getting fucked. "Mmmn..." She moans, looking at the soldier with adoration.

Bucky took the beating from his handlers for being late for his mission, regardless of if he got his target or not. He took each strike of the short whip to his back, each shock of the taser to his back. He showed little emotion, saving what he has for her.

For Natalia. 

[bromcommie]

WIPs word search

the lovely @dharmasharks tagged me to do this one—thank you, friend! I was hoping to do something like this, and it was pretty fun<3

Most of these are bits and pieces that were originally meant for the canon-divergent post-CATWS fic that I started posting in February but have since woefully neglected to update as I lost some steam and tried to restructure it, so this is equal parts a game and an attempt to get myself to finally post a new chapter. Fingers crossed!

Heat:

“How is it,” and he’s laughing, first time in a long time Steve’s seen him like this, laughing loud and unafraid and with his whole body, “Tell me, Rogers – how is it you’re all juiced up on Uncle Sam’s finest steroids, lifting tanks and all, but you still burn like a sheet of paper anytime you’re out in the sun for longer than five minutes?” “It’s a tan,” Steve grumbles half-heartedly, feeling the sorry back of his neck flame up as he rolls his head over to squint at him through the blinding sunlight. “I’m tanning. It’s handsome, I hear.” That sends Bucky off again. “No. No it ain’t.” He gestures vaguely to his own self, to where he’s bronzed out around the edges from the incessant heat beating down on them. “I tan. Morita tans. Even fucking Dugan tans, and he’s as Irish pale as you. You are one step away from sparking up like a tinderbox. Look at that.” He swipes at the bridge of Steve’s nose where he’s gone red and freckled and already peeling a little bit, and he hisses at the burn, swatting his hand away. “Cut it out.” Bucky leans back and just looks at him for a long second, blinking the unfortunate mix of sweat and dust out of his eyes. His face splits back into a grin like he can't help himself and something in Steve’s chest flips, unhindered by the annoyance. “What?”  “You look like a tomato. It's unbelievable.” “Shut up.” It’s stupid, barely even passes for a joke. He finds himself laughing along anyway, caught in the contagious energy rolling off Bucky in waves, the relaxed slouch of his body in the warm red dirt. “Shut the hell up. God almighty, you’re un-fucking-bearable.”

Drink:

“You’d be doing a better job if you were paying as much attention to our man as to gossip Yelena overheard.” “Gossip is our business. And he’s still trying to impress her.” “Is it working?” Natalia casts a glance to the pair at the bar, watches the dull glint of the woman's gaudy necklace where she twists it in an idle loop around a finger over and over, the scatter of light dancing across the polished marbletop. “She just yawned into her drink. Are you, really?” “Am I what really?” “American.” The static of the line crackles in the hollow pause and she gets that feeling again, the invigorating fear of having pushed too far over the clearly drawn line. “What would it matter, anyway?” “People change sides all the time.” That, of all things, finally gets a reaction, trips a miracle: the Soldier laughs. It's not a particularly nice sound. "Sweetheart, I'm not people."

Look:

I remember getting angry every time he told that story. I couldn’t make heads or tails of the point of it. I’d sit there after, while you were going off about adventuring and the hero’s sacrifice and if I think Katherine McMahon from class looks like what Niamh is supposed to look like, thinking to myself about how Oisín deserved the horrible fate he got, dying all old and weak and alone. Thinking, what kind of schmuck leaves the love of his life behind just like that? Turns out I got my answer. Life’s funny like that, and by funny I mean a vindictive old bastard. Anyway, I don’t think it’s all so horrible, anymore. Oisín got to go home, after all. Everyone back there was gone, sure, but at least he got to see it with his own two eyes again, this place he used to love and the way it had changed, instead of spending the rest of eternity not knowing and homesick without realizing what for. At least he got to help some folks before he died. He got to grow old, even for a moment – I remember when we were kids we’d talk about what we’d do if we could be like the fairies and heroes living forever in the stories, about all the exciting things we’d live to see, about what the future would look like. Now I think maybe he knew it was his time, Oisín – maybe he leaped off the horse before he even got to fall, let his feet hit the ground of Ireland one last time. Maybe he knew better than we did back then that the future ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.

Dance:

They fall back into a drowsy silence as Steve rolls down the window and settles into the rush of cool air. Some crooning melody floats off the speakers and Bucky hums along absently to the unfamiliar tones, taking them off the highway. In his peripheral he can feel Steve’s eyes on him, still soft and loose from sleep, warm in the last of the golden afternoon glow. “Quit looking at me like that,” he grumbles after a minute. “I ain’t looking at you like anything,” counters Steve immediately. “You keep it up, your face will freeze that way.” “You vain son of a bitch,” Steve throws back, smile blooming easy and unbearably familiar. “How d’you even know it’s you I’m looking at? Maybe I’m just admiring the scenery.” “Perfectly good window right next to you, Rogers.” “Sure.” He yawns again, then breaks out into a grin. “View’s not as pretty, though.” Bucky, to his utter bewilderment, feels his face flush hot. “Oh, I’m pretty now, is that it?” he settles on after a moment. “Yeah, Buck,” Steve says, grin widening impishly. This motherfucker. “Prettiest dame in the whole dance hall.” Bucky snorts. “Unbelievable. You stop trying to kill a guy for two minutes…” “Got the hair for it, now, too.” “Asshole,” Bucky mutters, but the laughter’s escaping despite his best judgement. “Tell you one thing: I definitely don’t remember you being this much of a pain in my neck.” “Good thing I don't mind reminding you, then,” Steve says in a breezy tone, grabbing the phone between them and hitching his knees up onto the dashboard.

No idea who all’s done this so far, but I'm gonna go ahead and lightly poke @emjee @snowangeldotmp3 @painted-doe @burberrycanary @vostok3-ka @gyokujyn @buckrogers as well as open tag anyone else who would like to do this. (yes, I really mean that, and please tag me if you do!) Contestants, your words are space, sharp, sweet and home. Go nuts!

[mxqdii]

omg ofc i noticed you’re so smart for putting that in!! and the blurb is so cute too!

i was wondering if you could write something that’s “False God” themed also 🥺💞

absolutely sobbing and throwing up at this request.

(my favorite song on lover is false god)

false god - m.s

pairings: matt reader x singer reader

summary: y/n needs to find a way to express her feelings, so she does what she does best, sings about it. (based off the t.s song 'false god')

warning(s): jealousy issues, attachment issues.

not proofread

"we were crazy to think that this would work, remember how i said i'd die for you?!?" i yell and matt scoffs

he doesn't say anything, instead he just sits there staring out the window.

"i can't talk to you when you're like this" i say, walking away.

i drive back to my house, sitting in my room and grabbing my notebook and a pen

'they all warned us about times like this, they say the road get's hard when you get led by blind faith' i write

sighing, i put down my notebook and call matt to try and make things right, getting no answer.

picking the notebook back up, i continue writing.

'we might just get away with it, the alters in my hips. even if it's a false god, we'd still worship this love'

it's been a week since i've last talked to matt, and since then i haven't been able to stop writing.

i've actually finished the song i was working on and plan on releasing it tonight and perform it on 'saturday night live' tomorrow

matt will be there, and the song is clearly about him so i'm very nervous to see how it'll go.

i've had a lot of time to think this past week and i've realized how grateful i am for being able to love matt, it's something i should worship

he's made me feel real, he's made me feel like heaven's a thing, because being with him just makes me feel that way.

and even though hell is when i fight with him, people have warned us about times like this, and what's love without fights anyways?

it's officially time, i go on stage in 5 minutes.

backstage feels empty and sad without matt there with me to calm my nerves, even though i know he's in the crowd.

chris and nick told me he hadn't listened to the song yet, meaning thsi will be his first time hearing it.

i also know he's seated in the front since i got him VIP a few weeks back.

"introducing, y/n playing her new single, 'false god'!

i hear the speakers say and i rush out waving to the crowd before getting situated at the mic.

i start the performance and avoid all eye contact with matt, until..

we'd still worship this love we'd still worship this love we'd still worship this love

we make direct eye contact and i feel my cheeks flush.

the song goes on and certain parts make me break eye contact with him, scared to see his reaction.

the song eventually ends and i run off stage feeling overwhelmed on if i was too distracted, if the song was good, what others thought.

it gets a little hazy, but suddenly matt shows up backstage and without saying anything, he kisses me.

all of my thoughts fade away as the only thing i'm focused on now is his lips.

"religions in my lips you said?" he says teasingly and i scoff

"shut up" i say with a laugh

"i love you matt, i'm sorry, for everything." i say and he smiles

"still worship this love" he says and i roll my eyes

"matt stop quoting the song!" i protest and start laughing

a/n: this took 2 HOURS because of my lack of idea, but overall i think i'm happy with it, i love this song and it holds a very special place in my heart.

[lucajayms]

fuckin' liar vol 2

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gerard way x reader she/her used use of y/n

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part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4

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masterlist

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warnings: descriptive drug use, angst, needles, guns

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The party was a mess, and I knew it the moment we walked in. Gerard, always the actor, smiled brightly, fingers laced with mine like everything was fine. But it wasn’t. Not for me. It never is.

Typical.

With a frustrated sigh, I yanked my hand away and slipped into the crowd. I needed space, some air—anyone who could look at me like I wasn’t a ticking time bomb. But deep down, I wondered, Do they know? Could they see it in my eyes, the lie I’d been living? Or would they ever know? One day, maybe, when all this unravels, it'll make for a hell of a documentary.

I stumbled upon Pete and Mikey, mid-conversation about bass and drums, as usual. They shot me the occasional glance, half-heartedly including me, but mostly talking to each other. Their words blurred together, meaningless. The itch was starting to creep in again, the kind that begged to be scratched.

"I’ll be right back," I mumbled, slipping away toward the exit, already dialing the number I knew by heart. My fingers shook as I pressed the phone to my ear, spitting out a stream of lies. "Gerard found my stash. Flushed it. We didn’t even take my car. I need more. Please."

She promised she’d be at the club in ten minutes. So I waited. And waited.

And the itch grew louder.

You’re going to die.

Meet Stacy halfway down the road.

You need it.

Die. Die. DIE.

“No!” The scream tore from my throat as I collapsed to my knees on the sidewalk, clutching my head. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, but it couldn’t drown out the voices. My nails dug into my skin, desperate to block out the noise, the chaos in my mind.

Then, headlights cut through the darkness, blinding me. My dealer’s BMW pulled up, and I stumbled to my feet, racing toward the car.

“The usual, please,” I managed, trying to keep my voice steady, calm. She smiled, casual, as if I hadn’t just been breaking down in the street. The cheap crossbody containing my salvation appeared, and I handed her the money. Paid. Tipped. And disappeared back into the party.

I was halfway to the bathroom when Jamia grabbed my wrist, her touch gentle but firm. “(Y/N), hey!” she smiled, clueless to the storm raging inside me. I plastered on a smile of my own, something fragile, something fake.

“Jamia! Hi, babe!” I chirped, trying to keep my feet from itching to move. I nodded, smiled, responded—though I had no idea what we were talking about. It felt like an eternity, like every second was dragging me deeper into a pit I couldn’t climb out of. The moment she paused, I slipped away.

In the bathroom stall, the door locked, I fell to my knees. My hands fumbled with the bag, pulling out the spoon, the baggie of powder, the needle. My lighter—Gerard’s lighter, technically—came next, sparking to life. As I heated the spoon, a tear slid down my cheek. My breath hitched.

Why am I doing this?

I stopped, syringe in hand, staring at my leg where the needle would soon sink into flesh. I could see Gerard's face so clearly—how he looked at me when he found me before. Like he didn’t even know who I was anymore. His voice, so broken when he said my name, still echoed in my head. I hated the way it made me feel. Hated him for caring, for loving me. Hated myself for letting him down. For becoming this.

“Fuck,” I whispered, barely audible as the rage bubbled up inside me. Without thinking, I shoved the needle in, the high rushing through me, numbing everything. I tossed my things back into the crossbody. Ready now. Ready for the party.

I stepped out and caught my reflection in the mirror. The girl staring back at me was barely recognizable. Hollow eyes, sunken cheeks. My foundation couldn’t even mask the exhaustion etched into my skin. I splashed cold water on my face, like it could wash away the mess I’d made of myself.

As I reentered the room, voices drifted through the air—Gerard's voice.

“I don’t know what to do, man. She lied to me,” Gerard said to Brian, our manager. His voice was low, pained. “I love her so much, but she’s killing herself.”

It felt like a bullet to the heart. I froze, barely able to breathe as Brian replied, “That’s how addicts work. They lie, they say things they don’t mean. You were there, you know.”

Gerard’s response was laced with frustration, desperation. “Yeah, but I asked for help when I needed it. She needs help and she’s not getting it.”

Fuck you, Gerard, I thought bitterly. You don’t know what’s good for me.

I couldn’t listen anymore. I shoved my way through the crowd and sprinted out of the building, the tears already spilling over. I ran and ran, Gerard’s words chasing me, haunting me. How could he say that? How could he tell Brian about my shit?

Unbelievable.

By the time I reached Stacy’s apartment, my breath was coming in ragged gasps. I banged on the door, barely able to stand. She opened it quickly, a gun in hand.

“Whoa!” I raised my hands, startled.

“Sorry, (Y/N),” she muttered, tossing the gun aside. “I thought you were my boss.”

I nodded weakly, too tired to respond. “I need more. A week’s supply.”

“In and out, baby. You don’t wanna be here when my boss shows up,” she warned, rummaging through a suitcase. “How many times a day?”

“Six,” I whispered, ashamed.

“That’s $410,” she said, barely batting an eye as she handed over the goods. I fumbled with my wallet, handing her the money. She shoved it in her pocket, smiled, and waved me off. “Get out before he shows.”

I didn’t have to be told twice. As I left, the voices returned, louder now, crueler.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Gerard. The way he looked at me. The way he talked about me. He hated me, didn’t he? You’re right, the voice whispered again. He hates you. Ray, Mikey... even Frank. They all know now. They all think you’re worthless. They’ll never love you again.

“Stop,” I muttered, clutching my head.

You ruined everything. You’re a joke. A fraud.

“No...”

The fans will find out, too. They’ll hate you. You destroyed the band you started to save lives. How ironic.

“Enough!”

But the voice didn’t stop. It kept tearing into me as I ran. Rain poured down in sheets, soaking through my clothes as I fell onto the wet pavement. I was a wreck, sobbing in the middle of the street. I did need help. I needed saving, but who would save me?

I looked up through the blur of rain and tears. The Motel 6 sign flickered in the distance.

Time to disappear.

[pianocat939]

May I request 2012 tmnt reacting to you rejecting them or them finding out you already have a crush on someone that isn’t any of the turtles?

Ah yes my first full request with 2012 turtaleles-

Tw: Kidnapping + restraints, stalking, guilt-tripping, Raph kinda gets sad,

Leopold:

Leo at first will try to conceal it and just try to move on, saying how acceptance is the path to becoming a great ninja and shit- But slowly over time, he can't seem to hold in his obsession and grows more restless the longer he's denied of your affections/seeing you gush over someone else. And in the end, he'll either kidnap you or kill the person you're gushing over depending on if you reject him or have a crush.

You wake up on a pillow, tied up with some chains...and someone staring right back at you.

"Oh you're awake!" It's Leo, with a manical look on his face. He his hand grips one of the ends of the chains, his hand reaching over to adjust the blanket over you. "Did you sleep well?"

You don't answer his question, terror and confusion gripping your heart. "Leo, why am I chained up? I should be in my house right now..."

"Because..." his tone suddenly becomes ice cold, "I need you to see my potential as a boyfriend that you're clearly blind to."

Ropes of Mouse Fur:

He acts like he's fine with it when you initially reject him but when he's alone he's actually really fucking sad. Like everybody notices his mood is dampened so much that his anger issues become worse. He's less likely willing to talk and shuts himself in his room. He's still nice to you, but at times his tone sounds a bit bitter. He won't hesitate to kill your crush, but if you just rejected him he lives with it. But that doesn't mean he won't try to make himself look good to see if you're even the slightest bit willing.

"Ugh, dudes his anger has gotten so much worse!" Mikey whines, running up to shake Leo by his shoulders. "I'm literally going to become a ping pong ball!"

"Now, now, surely it's just a dip in his mood. He'll be back when he's ready." He pats Mikey's back in a motherly fashion, trying to put on a comforting smile for the youngest. He briefly glances over at Donnie who enters the room.

"I don't know about that Leo, he seems to not be getting out of it anytime soon..." He comments with an unamused tone, his eye for a split second looking over at you before returning back to Leo and Mikey.

"He's probably a little sad because I rejected him..."

Daring Weiner Dog:

This is kinda almost, almost canon to be honest. He'll go into a delusional state and think you do like him back, you're just not willing to admit it to him. He'll literally try to do everything to get you to admit "your feelings" to him. Honestly, I would just say the things he did in the show were just more extreme. For example, stalking all of your devices and watching you sleep at night. I'm bold enough to say that it's almost impossible for him to break out of his delusion without something literally traumatizing him-

"Ah...Just how much longer until you finally admit your love for me, my sweet chinchilla." He sighs in a dreamy state, staring at the laptop before him that shows the screen of the camera in your room. (Yes he CANONICALLY says my sweet chinchilla)

His eyes intensely soak in details of your sleeping body with a grin, perhaps even a creepy one. His fingers tap along the keyboard, humming to himself quietly. "Just wait, once you realize your affection for me...You'll be the happiest you've ever been."

Unbest known to him, you're awake, just with your eyes shut. You know he's watching you; you know he's stalking you in your sleep. So to properly confront him, you have a camera recording him watching you right in his lab.

He needs to be humbled.

Matilda:

He'll first act really dramatically about the initial rejection, asking questions on why you don't like him back and things similar to that. From there, he'll try to guilt-trip you purposefully in hopes that maybe you'll accept his feelings out of guilt. And he'll be super clingy even if you reject him like he doesn't care. If he wants love, he's getting it one way or another. He's basically a manipulative, clingy little fucker. (Note that this is from him just being greedy about wanting everything he wants)

"Why won't you love me?!" Mikey cries out, faking tears with ease to put up his pitiful act. He knows everybody is weak to him being all sad and weak. He's mastered the art of acting so well, he's basically the all-powerful. "Is it because I'm an ugly turtle?! Is it because I'm too childish?! Tell me, so I can try to get better!"

When he notices your guilty expression, he internally smirks smugly. Look at you, already falling for his tactics so easily.

"No...I just..." He almost slips up and giggles when your voice fades away from uncertainty. Usually he doesn't feel like this, but when it comes to achieving your love, he just can't help but get a little- evil with his intentions.

"Please! Just tell me what I need to do to get you to love me!"

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I think I'm getting a little better at writing for 2012- ngl I must have gone a bit crazy with Mikey's part but it's fine

- Celina