#the kind where you wonder how she does it in such a small amount of time

[offdxty]

Hands work the coffee machine with expertise, Kane having long since figured out how to use it to its fullest potential; Fresh coffee beans are poured into a small container, which is then attached to the rest, followed by a few settings being pressed into the touch screen. The machine begins to work seconds after, letting out a few beeps and other noises, grinding and rattling as fresh coffee powder is produced, compressed---

Two cups are placed where they belong, one beneath each nozzle. It's practical, truly, how this coffee machine can produce two cups of the hot beverage at the same time - could, in theory, even brew two different kinds of coffee, quite amazing. It's not needed, though, with Kane enjoying his drink in the very same way as she does; Same strength, same amount, same everything.

He watches, takes in the sight of dark brown starting to collect, when Lena joins him in the kitchen, just mere moments after. She does not need to speak for him to sense the heaviness surrounding her, something tugging and prodding on her existence; Does she feel sad, he wonders, with Kane, not-Kane, it, looking over as Lena collects everything she needs to prepare the omelet she'd talked about earlier.

Dark irises follow her movements, her hands, before flicking up to focus on soft features mere seconds before those words finally leave her - words that Kane did not exactly expect to be met with, yet he'd felt her need to say something, to articulate whatever might be going on with her. It might be a connection of sorts, but... he isn't too sure. Isn't thinking about it too much.

He's just... feeling things sometimes, when it comes to Lena and her emotions.

"...I'm not sure how similar we are." The answer is soft-spoken and light, genuine, not at all negatively affected in any way - because she's right, Kane doesn't mind her curiosity, or her desire to know more. To hear about him - the one in the lighthouse, who used to be her husband. "You've asked me something similar before, remember - you asked me: Are you Kane? ... And I said: I don't think so. ... Perhaps this is one of the differences."

A brief pause, a slight tilt of a head...

"It just felt like something I want to eat - vegetables, I mean. I like them. Very clean, very... natural." A shrug, a gentle one, as Kane leans with his hip against the kitchen counter, close to the coffee machine; He hums, a little thoughtful, before folding his arms in front of his chest loosely. Comfortable. Lazy. Not deflective at all.

"I... don't know why." Why Kane, not-Kane, it, asks for vegetables - and likes them - when Kane, her Kane, wasn't especially fond of them. A difference, certainly, one that Kane himself doesn't really feel...

"---Did he like those chocolate bars?" Because those taste almost familiar to him. Perhaps that's something he has in common with the other, then...?

The way that Kane existed in that moment -- it. . . him -- left Lena in a state of truly baffled. Not something that showed, nothing more than her raised brows and huff of air from her lungs at his smile. Amused. He was nearing something almost cheeky towards the end as well, when he pushed up, walked past her in the small doorway. A near brush that had their skin in contact just for a second. Just long enough for a shiver to run down her spine at the lingering sensation. His eyes met hers when it happened, but only for that moment before the moment in and of itself -- passed. Only one cup, he said. Perhaps another but a promise for no more than that. One that sounded like a tease itself. Sounded like he wanted to keep smiling even as he made his way towards their small ktichen. Her kitchen? No, theirs. Kane lived there as much as she did now. No matter what she felt or how strongly she felt it, Lena could not deny that much. The fact he shared her space now. Shared the house just like. . . she used to with her own Kane. Only, not so much the same, was it? No, he, it -- there was differences. Too many now to put into a small container. Too many to keep proper count of. Living with Kane now was much different than when she lived with another Kane before. . . She could differentiate them now. Lena wondered when realizing that stopped making her so sick to her stomach. It felt like a betrayal, deep down. The same was seeing Dan had felt -- bringing him into her home. Their home. Housing Kane now lingered in her chest the same way Dan's countless invitations to barbeques did. Like dishonoring what she had left of her Kane. Making a fool of the man she'd loved, may still love and may always love.

Lena followed into the kitchen, only a few paces behind. Made her way to the fridge for the ingredients she'd need to begin cooking. It felt much like that first night she'd brought Kane back here, after they'd been released. Reminiscent in some ways, if not all. Cooking for him just as she had before. Only this time they were closer -- he was beside her with the coffee while she worked. She didn't tense or fear brushing of limbs, even if she was still so uncertain about the sensation that came along with it. "You know I'm -- . . . I'm surprised you want something like veggies for breakfast of all things. It makes me wonder how--" A pause, a swallow. she can speak about it. She knows Kane won't mind it. Knows the barrier keeping her from it is all her own. "--how similar. . . you and he truly are. He didn't hate healthy eating, but he wouldn't do so on his own." He. Not Kane. Because now Kane was here, in some way.

[spinnysocks]

How strong is reirei's makeup game?

oh she's the best at makeup, she always looks perfect. i can see her helping her teenage daughter with her makeup, and sharing tips with shupavu and jasiri! since it's christmas eve, she would definitely wear some lovely red christmas-themed makeup!!

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

This is so self-inserted but don't mind me

Apparently when i crash out i write lmao

Frank castle is my new love at this point so please send in request! I'm also taking request for bucky barnes and Logan howlett still <3

Frank Castle dealing with you while you study

Frank hates when you overwork yourself, so he started to just observe you.

It started small he would come home at an actual reasonable time for once and you were at the kitchen table working away. The first thing that crosses his mind is Oh shit it must be serious. You warned him when you first started seeing each other that if you were at the kitchen table that meant you had a huge amount of work to do. He's never seen it in action before but now that he's face to face with it...he kind of wishes he was still out working.

NOT THAT HE DOESN'T WANT TO SUPPORT YOU! but at first, you scared the shit out of him with how intense you were working. You had such an angry look on your face, and music was blaring in your headphones, loud enough he could hear the song from where he was standing and loud enough he was concerned for your hearing.

Usually, you raced to him to give him some sort of affection when he got home, now you haven't even lifted your head to meet his eyes. He approached you in the same way he would approach an injured animal.

"Babydoll? Have you been working since you got home?" He cringed at the question as his eyes drift to the clock on the microwave to see that you got home six hours ago. Thankfully his eyes went back to your form in time to see you nod weakly. A harsh sigh tumble past his lips before he could stop himself.

You were fearful that he was going to just close your laptop but instead he walked behind you and opened the fridge. Silently he started to dance around the kitchen and began a quick dinner he knew you'd enjoy and that would help fuel his dolls body.

He does eventually close your laptop, but it is in exchange for a plate of food. Sitting next to you, he eats in near silence as he listens to you rant about your workload and how overwhelmed and unsupported you feel with your college. He nods and gives his short phrases of support that let you know he hasn't tuned you out as he starts to mentally plan a study set up for you.

The following day, you had the day off and had originally planned to just spend the day cooped up in the house working, but Frank had very different plans. He took the entire day off and woke you up with coffee. "I have a few errands to run, sweetheart, nothing crazy, but I was wondering if you could come with me?" He nods along with your protest and mumbles a few I knows before justifying his request. "I know you're drowning in work right now, but you know I don't know everything I need to pick up at the pharmacy and that lady always gives me those dirty looks that you hate...she doesn't do that with you there." He gives his best puppy eyes and squeezes your hips softly to help sway you into agreeing, and he even "agrees" for it to just be the one quick errand.

But...since you're already out might as well get some lunch right? Neither of you had breakfast, and now it's nearly 1. "We need to eat, sweetheart," he says as he pulls into the diners parking lot.

The two of you get home around 3, and you were pissed. He handled the attitude you gave him since he took you out pretty early in the morning, but he was pleased with himself. He knew you got fresh air, some exercise and an actual meal so he backs off for you to work until dinner...which will be at a responsible time he'd be damned if you didn't eat until midnight again.

But this man is a man of observation through and through. He will just wander into the kitchen every few hours to make sure you are still breathing and not having a breakdown. Usually, he is met with you in the same position he left you in the last time he checked in but sometimes there is clear frustration on your face, and those times are when he softly closes the laptop and asks for some attention. "Baby, all I'm asking is 15 minutes. C'mon, how is a 15-minute cuddle break going to kill you?"

He's sneaky. He knows your soft spot for him, and he uses that to his advantage.

And when you are done with all the work and have passed the class, he rewards you in the only way he can, and all of the sudden all the work is worth it when you can hear his soft whispers of praise throughout the night.

[elijawrites]

Change can be scary | Mira x F! Reader

ft. mira & f!yn

warnings. slight mentions of abuse (?) forced marriage, bullying (dw its not physical) rich family issues, mira, slight mentions of mira x zoey, unrequited love (?) angst, mira’s full name is implied to be mirinae chaebol

an. this one isnt requested! take this for now while i think of what i can write for silent voice……. teehee. anw, this might have a part two— and also not my best work, i just went with what was in my mind LMAO, have fun readiig!! also im not entirely sure who it was but I THINKKK the name “Mirinae Chaebol” came from someone on A03 (????) I forgot from the amount of ffs ive read alreadh LMAUDSB

Mira wasn’t sure when it happened, nor how it happened. All she knew was that it was a day she learned to regret for the rest of her life. Now, she wasn’t particularly known for her friendliness— so with that said, she was a loner. She had no friends.

Except for one person.

That person was you. She wasn’t sure why, but despite her reputation, despite her behavior, despite her unruly actions, You still stuck around. And for once, she was grateful for something, because she had something. She had you.

Until she didn’t.

She still remembers that day— when she overheard them. To be frank, Mira had no idea who they were. Nor could she care less. But she couldn’t help but listen, especially when they mentioned your name— “God, you’ve seen the way yn clings to her, right?” One of them said,

“Yeah, honestly, it’s so annoying. but I heard she’s only really close with that black sheep of the family because their parents are close, lmao” The other replied, their tone filled with disdain. Was it true? Is that really all she was to you?

“Yn’s family’s been sucking up to Mira’s for years. Ofc their golden child has to play pretend.” Another voice rang out. “yk what’s funny? if i was given the chance even i would put up with mira’s behavior just to get that billion-won trust fund, loll”

Mira stood frozen behind the wall, her hands balled into fists at her sides. She wanted to march in and tell them off. Scream, maybe. But instead, the words made their way into her ears, coiled around her chest, and sunk into the cracks of her confidence.

“And like—what does yn even see in Mira? Her sense of style is concerning, her behavior is nothing but complete RUDE, and she’s just such a bitch” “Exactly. It’s pity, if anything. yn’s just playing the long game, maybe to make it hurt her more lol.”

That one changed something in her.

Because she had already wondered before. Once or twice, maybe more actually. Why someone like you — warm, popular, impossibly kind — stuck around with someone like her. And this was the final push.

She wanted to believe you loved her. God, she really wanted to.

But that knife?

It dug in deeper than it should’ve.

When she finally returned to the spot you both always met, you looked up at her with your whole damn heart in your eyes, holding out her favorite drink like nothing in the world could ever be wrong. You lit up the moment you saw her, as if you were Icarus— and she was the sun.

“Where were you?” you asked gently. A soft smile on your face.

Mira forced a smile. “The bathroom was full, I had to wait in line.”

It started small. From a text she forgot to answer, A phone call that went straight to voicemail. A missed lunch. Then two. Then three.

But you? you just kept waiting. Just kept believing that maybe Mira was going through something, and when she was ready, she’d come back.

Because that’s what love does, right? It waits.

It was the third Saturday of the month—you and mira’s day. your movie night, where you’d eat tons of junk food, cuddle together, watch a ridiculously cringe romcom.

So then, you sat in the park near Mira’s house for over an hour, two blankets and snacks set up under you guys’ favorite tree. you checked your phone once, then twice. No reply.

Still, you waited. you waited until it was 3am in the middle of the night— you didn’t even notice how dark your surroundings got.

And when you finally walked to Mira’s house, it was the housekeeper who answered the door, not Mira. “Hello miss chen, have you seen Mira?” You asked with a soft smile.

“Oh.. yn.” The pause was too long. Too hesitant.

“She’s not here, sweetie.”

you blinked. “What? Did she go out?”

The housekeeper shifted uncomfortably. “She… left this morning. Her mother arranged something with the Lee family. She’s transferring. Something about a new private academy? I believe she left with someone named Celine.”

your breath got caught in your chest. “She didn’t..tell me.”

“I’m sorry. She didn’t say goodbye to anyone, really. It was all so last minute.”

But you knew that wasn’t true. Because Mira never did anything last minute. If she does something, it means she’s thought about it for a while now.

She chose not to tell you.

That night, you sat in your room, phone in hand, staring at the messages she had sent. It had been a whole day since her last message— It was a simple “Okay” No punctuation. No “I’ll see you tomorrow.” No heart emoji.

Nothing. Just pure silence.

Days passed. Then weeks. And soon, it turned into years. no texts, no calls, no apology, no explanation. you never confronted her. not directly.

Because how do you chase someone who already decided you weren’t worth the goodbye?

It had been 8 years since then. And Mira found herself in a 5-star restaurant, She hated these kinds of places.

Too clean, too dirty, too loud, but also too quiet. The kind of restaurant where the menu didn’t have prices, and everyone wore watches that cost more than someone’s life probably.

Zoey had picked it— It looked nice, she had said, half-teasing. Mira had rolled her eyes but agreed nonetheless.

The hostess led them to a table by the glass balcony, offering a view of Seoul’s lovely shine in the night. Mira sat down, scanning the room out of habit.

And that’s when she saw you.

At a table across the room, dressed in a sleek black midi dress, your hair neatly tucked behind one ear, sipping from a wine glass, with jewelry adorned all over your figure— jewelry that costs billions, Mira would assume.

You weren’t laughing. You didn’t fidget. You didn’t hum under your breath or drum your fingers on the table like you used to when you were bored.

You were calm. Collected.

Confident. And untouchable.

Your mother sat across from you, mid-conversation. You nodded politely as she spoke, but your eyes weren’t particularly focused on the conversation — they were scanning the room.

And then they landed on her.

Mira stiffened. She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until your gaze locked with hers.

But what shocked her the most, was you didn’t seem surprised by her presence, you didn’t give her a smile, a greeting, none of that. You didn’t light up like you used to whenever you’d see her.

All you gave her was a slight parting of your mouth—and a curt nod. And then, you gave her a smile.

Except it was professional. polite. distant.

Not the way you used to smile at her. Not like before.

Zoey was still deciding between the wine list and the cocktail menu when Mira stood up suddenly. “I’ll be right back,” she mumbled.

“Mira—?” But she was already walking. You didn’t look surprised when she stopped beside your table.

“Hey,” she said, almost breathless. “yn?”

You looked up fully this time, your posture poised, eyes unreadable. Mira felt like a teenager again, standing in front of someone she didn’t deserve to miss.

You offered her a curt smile. “It’s been a while.”

Eight years, Mira wanted to say. But she swallowed it. “You.. look different,” she managed. You tilted your head. “Do I? I suppose change can be quite scary.”

Your mother glanced between you both. “You two know each other?” Mira hesitated, but you answered for her. “We went to school together.”

Just that. Nothing more.

Mira forced a smile. “Yeah. We used to be close.” Your mother gave a polite hum and turned back to her food, talking with your father once more. Uninterested.

You looked at Mira again. “Are you eating here?”

“Yeah. Just—” she nodded vaguely toward her table. “With a.. friend.”

You glanced past her, catching sight of Zoey. Something flickered in your expression — but it passed before Mira could place it.

“Well,” you said after a pause. “It was good to see you, Mirinae.”

And that was it.

You turned back to your plate. Mira stood there a moment longer than she should’ve, heart stammering in her chest. Because it hit her then:

You weren’t waiting anymore. You weren’t the girl who used to look at her like she hung the moon. You’d grown. Matured

Mira walked back to her table, barely hearing Zoey’s question. And from across the room, you sipped your wine and looked out over the city.

And for the first time in years…

Mira realized she had truly, truly lost you.

She sat at her designated seat, posture perfect, expression blank, the trained doll her parents expected her to be. The tension in her shoulders hadn’t eased since she’d walked in. She had asked her mother twice what this dinner was for, and both times she was waved off with a, ”This is a special celebration, darling. You’ll see.”

So she had come. alone, of course. Zoey and Rumi weren’t even a consideration—if her family so much as saw Zoey, they’d skin Mira alive.

The evening dragged on with toasts, fake ass greetings, forced laughter echoing through the entire place. Her father stood at the head of the table, speaking to a cluster of board members and diplomats. Mira tuned out all the noise—until the faint clink of a spoon against glass silenced the room.

Her mother was standing now, with her wine glass held in her hand delicately.

“If I may have everyone’s attention,” she said, her voice commanding. “Thank you all for joining us tonight. It brings us great joy to finally share the celebration party that we have prepared for months.”

Mira looked up. Her mother’s smile was the carefully practiced kind—too polished, too perfect. Mira had seen it at galas, press conferences, business mergers, even at home.

She continued, “As many of you are aware, the LN and Chaebol families have long held a close relationship—both in business and personal trust. Tonight, we are proud to officially announce the union of our two households through marriage.”

Mira’s world stopped in its tracks.

Her mother’s voice continued to echo around the room. “Minho, our son, and Yn, daughter of the esteemed LN family, will be married this winter. The date has been set, and preparations are well underway. We ask for your support and blessings as we move forward with this beautiful partnership.”

A round of polite applause followed. Mira barely registered it. She turned her head slowly, as if the weight of what she just heard had to physically settle on her shoulders before she could believe it.

At the opposite end of the table—there you were.

Seated beside Minho.

You looked.. exquisite. Every detail of your appearance was meticulous. Hair styled perfectly, makeup elegant, dressed in a dark navy-blue gown that shined under the chandelier light. God. You were so damn pretty. Beside you, Minho raised his glass with a courteous smile, offering a short, prepared and scripted speech about the family’s legacy and honor.

But you?

You didn’t say a word. You bowed your head politely. You smiled when necessary. But it wasn’t you.

Not the real you.

You looked like someone wearing a mask too tight, forced to play the role written for her. Mira stared.

You didn’t meet her eyes. Not even once. The wine glass in Mira’s hand trembled.

Her mother sat down, pleased with the room’s reaction. Conversations picked back up. Some guests offered congratulations. Minho’s name was on every other lip. And all Mira could hear in her head was the echo of your name, spoken like you were a possession, like a trade deal for the Chaebol.

You and her brother.

You and her family.

Her stomach churned, and something in her chest cracked open.

She stood abruptly. The sound of her chair dragging across marble earned a few glances. Her mother’s voice followed her like a thread, laced with warning.

“Mirinae, where are you going?”

“I need air,” she said flatly. She pushed through the side doors of the banquet hall, past marble statues and into the dim hallway lined with gold-framed portraits of dead men who had probably arranged dozens of marriages like this.

And when the door shut behind her, the weight of it all hit her like a boulder.

You were marrying her brother. And you hadn’t even told her. Just as how she left all those years ago, and she didn’t tell you.

[orellazalonia]

hiii!! i love your writing and i was wondering if i could request bucky barnes with a reader that gets really anxious but hides it in public, and he notices? like he can tell if she’s overwhelmed even though she hides it and he helps her out and comforts her??

very specific ik lol but it can kind of be whatever dynamic you want (like avengers!reader)

have an amazing day!!

Hello, dear! Thank you for the kind words!! I enjoyed fulfilling your request, just the right amount of hurt/comfort I love. Thank you for the request and I hope you enjoy! Happy reading!

The Quiet Anchor

Summary: You’ve always been good at hiding your anxiety behind polite smiles and steady composure, even when the world around you feels like it’s pressing too close. Bucky Barnes notices what no one else does as his quiet presence becomes your anchor, a place where you don’t have to pretend and where being seen doesn’t feel like being exposed.

Word Count: 2.2k+

Main Masterlist

You were good at blending in. That was the first thing you mastered when you joined the Avengers, not hand-to-hand combat or tactical analysis, not flying the quinjet or syncing with the team mid-fight.

No, what you learned best was how to keep yourself small without seeming like you were disappearing. You smiled when you were supposed to. You laughed when it fit the rhythm of the room. You nodded along, asked the right questions, made eye contact just enough to pass as engaged.

You were fine.

That’s what everyone believed. That’s what you made sure they believed.

But underneath the surface, you were always tracking everything: the sound of chairs scraping on floors, the rise and fall of voices, the clatter of dishes in the kitchen down the hall. You knew the nearest exit in every room. You always stood where your back could brush a wall. And in moments when the compound grew too loud or the energy of your teammates turned sharp like when Tony’s voice climbed, or Steve’s intensity thickened the air in response, you focused on breathing slowly through your nose and exhaling through your mouth like you’d practiced in the privacy of your room.

No one noticed. No one was supposed to.

You hated the idea of being “the anxious one.” You didn’t want pity. Didn’t want anyone to walk on eggshells or treat you like you couldn’t hold your own. You could. You did. You went on missions. You completed your training. You held your posture straight and kept your tone steady, avoided breaking in half even when it felt like something invisible was digging fingers into your chest.

Every room full of people felt like a performance. And today, it was a full house. The entire team was back from separate assignments, a mission debrief scheduled in the conference room, chatter bouncing off the sleek compound walls. Natasha was already flipping through a file across the room. Sam and Tony were arguing about something that sounded like sports but somehow involved a drone. You gave a quick nod to Bruce as he passed you with a coffee and slid into your usual seat; one near the back, second from the door. Close enough to be present but fat enough to breathe.

You clasped your hands in your lap to keep them from twitching. Let your face settle into a neutral expression just shy of friendly. You knew this drill. You’d practiced it a hundred times.

But still, beneath the table, your foot tapped quietly. Your chest felt tight in that subtle, creeping way that always came before the full weight of it dropped. You ignored it and tried to focus on the folder in front of you. Tried to remember the fact that you were present. You were okay. You’d get through this.

You always did and no one had to know.

However…

Bucky was used to watching people. Long before the war, before Hydra and the Winter Soldier, he was the type to study a room before entering it. And afterward, after everything, watching became instinct. Survival. He noticed things no one else did, the kinds of things that gave people away: clenched jaws, shallow breaths, stiff shoulders, eyes that didn’t quite match the smile.

And he noticed you.

Not all at once. Not in some loud extravagant way. No, it started in slivers of small observations that added up slowly. At first, he thought it was just part of your personality. Quiet, measured, and always listening more than speaking. You weren’t shy exactly, but there was a tension in you like you were always ready to brace for something.

You laughed when the others laughed, made smart comments during meetings, and didn’t flinch in a fight. But Bucky saw the way your fingers fidgeted beneath the table, the way your gaze flicked toward the door when voices got loud, and the subtle tension in your posture when the room buzzed too much. It wasn’t fear, exactly. It wasn’t anything obvious. It was… overload. The kind you try to smother under a steady voice and practiced smile.

He could tell when it started to get to you, especially when the compound got too loud or when too many people spoke at once or stood too close. Your tells were quiet, but he picked up on them: the way you tucked your hands under your thighs to stop the movement, how you nodded more than you spoke, the slightly too-long pauses before you answered someone.

He never mentioned it. He didn’t want to put you on the spot or make it worse. But every time the team gathered, Bucky made sure to position himself where he could see you. Not to hover or intrude. It was just in case.

And today, something in your posture was different.

You came into the conference room late, already tense. You smiled when Nat greeted you, offered a polite reply to Steve. But your shoulders were tight, and you sat with your back a little too straight, as if you were forcing stillness. When Tony joked loudly about something Sam had done, you laughed, but your eyes were too focused. Not amused. Anchored. Like you were hanging onto the laugh to stay grounded.

No one else noticed. Everyone was caught up in their own rhythms, in plans and banter. But Bucky watched your foot tap under the table, the way your gaze flicked up every time someone raised their voice. You were unraveling quietly.

And he hated that no one saw it.

He didn’t say anything yet, but he didn’t take his eyes off you. Not when the meeting started, not when the debrief dragged on, not when Steve’s voice sharpened as he went over the mission’s failure points.

Bucky saw the moment you disconnected. You didn’t move, didn’t bolt. But your expression went a little blank. Your focus drifted. Not spaced out, pulled inward. Retreating.

His jaw tightened. He shifted his stance against the wall, watching you pretend everything was fine. He made a quiet decision then. If no one else was going to step in, he would.

As soon as the meeting ended, you were on your feet.

You didn’t rush, that would draw attention. But your movements were deliberate, efficient. You nodded at Steve, gave Nat a faint smile, and slipped out before anyone could stop you. The hallway outside was mercifully quiet, and the farther you walked, the easier it was to breathe again.

You made it to your room and closed the door, finally letting your shoulders fall.

Your hands trembled slightly as you tugged your jacket off and sat on the edge of your bed. The hum in your chest still hadn’t settled. You could still hear the echoes of Steve’s voice, Tony’s laughter, and the shuffle of people too close. You squeezed your eyes shut, wishing you could shake the weight off your skin.

You didn’t cry. You never cried over this. It wasn’t sadness. It was exhaustion. The kind that crept in slow, coiled in your stomach, and left you feeling frayed at the edges for hours after the world went still.

And then there was a knock. It was soft and barely audible. A moment of silence passed and then there was another.

You didn’t answer, but you didn’t move to send whoever it was away, either.

The door opened. Not all the way, just enough for Bucky to poke his head in. He didn’t say anything. Just looked at you with that same calm, quiet understanding that never asked for anything you couldn’t give.

You didn’t speak. Just met his eyes for a moment, and that was enough.

He stepped in, closing the door behind him without a sound. He didn’t turn on the light, didn’t crowd you, didn’t even sit next to you on the bed. Instead, he lowered himself onto the floor in front of your bed, arms resting loosely over his knees, back to the wall like he planned to stay a while.

“I figured you might need a little quiet, but I wanted to make sure you were okay,” He said softly.

You let out a breath that wasn’t quite a sigh, but close. “I’m fine,” You murmured automatically.

He gave a faint smile, not unkind. “I know you are,” He said. “But even fine people get overwhelmed.”

Your throat tightened unexpectedly. You didn’t want to explain yourself, didn’t want to break the fragile silence with messy words or feelings you barely understood yourself. But he didn’t ask you to.

Instead, he just sat there. Still. Present.

And in a strange way, that helped more than any conversation might have. His presence wasn’t pressure, it was permission. To just be. To sit in the quiet without having to earn it. To not explain why your chest felt like it was holding back a flood.

Your fingers uncurled from the blanket as your breathing slowed.

“I hate that I get like this,” You whispered after a long pause, voice barely above the breeze drifting in through the window.

Bucky didn’t rush to disagree. He just tilted his head slightly, thoughtful. “It doesn’t make you weak,” He said. “It makes you aware. You notice everything. What’s going on, what people feel, what might happen. It’s not a flaw. It’s just… heavy sometimes.”

Your eyes stung. Not from sadness but from being seen. You didn’t reply right away, but he didn’t need you to. He just stayed there, quiet and steady, until your chest didn’t feel so tight anymore.

Until you finally let yourself move closer, just a little, and your hand found his.

And he held it like a promise.

From there on, he was there whenever the world became too much.

Like one time when the common room was too loud again.

There was a birthday, someone’s, maybe Clint’s, judging by the poorly frosted cake and the arrow shaped cookies stuck in the punch bowl. Everyone was back from a successful mission and in the mood to celebrate, which meant music through the speakers, food on every surface, and Avengers packed shoulder-to-shoulder like it was a bar on a Friday night.

You stood by the wall, a plate in hand you had no intention of eating from. You smiled when someone waved. Laughed when someone else made a joke. Nodded along to conversations you couldn’t focus on. It was second nature now; masking the crawl under your skin, the way your mind had already started to buzz like static.

You didn’t want to ruin anything. You didn’t want to look fragile or draw attention. So you stayed. Still, smiling, and swallowing the weight of it.

But you weren’t alone.

Bucky had clocked you the moment he walked in. He could read you from across a room now. The stiffness in your shoulders, the way you held your plate like a shield, the way your eyes darted: exit, exit, exit.

He didn’t call out to you. Didn’t wave or approach loud enough for anyone else to notice. He just started moving your way, weaving through the others with calm, unhurried ease. It wasn’t a rescue, more so a check-in.

When he reached you, he didn’t speak. Didn’t ask are you okay or do you want to leave. He just stood close enough for your arm to brush his. His presence dulled the noise somehow, like an anchor dropped silently between your ribs.

You looked up at him. He gave a small nod. A question.

Need out?

You hesitated. Then exhaled slowly, nodding back just enough for him to see.

Yes.

Without a word, he shifted his body slightly, enough to shield you from the room’s view. His metal hand brushed lightly against your forearm, a steady weight that grounded you, and then he leaned in just enough to murmur, “Come on.”

He led you through the edges of the crowd. It wasn’t rushed or awkward. Just two teammates slipping away, like you had somewhere else to be. No one asked questions. No one noticed. That was the quiet genius of Bucky Barnes. He could vanish without leaving a trace, and when he brought you with him, you vanished too.

You ended up in one of the unused hallways, dim and quiet. The door shut behind you, muffling the music until it was just background fuzz. You leaned against the wall and let your eyes close, chest rising slowly.

“You did good,” Bucky said softly, voice close. “You stayed in control.”

“I was barely holding on,” You murmured.

“Doesn’t matter,” He replied, and there was no doubt in his certainty. “You held on. That’s what counts.”

You opened your eyes and looked at him. There was no judgment there. Just that calm understanding. That quiet kind of loyalty that said: I see you, even when you don’t want to be seen.

“…Thank you,” You whispered.

Bucky shrugged lightly. “We’ve all got something,” He said. “Some of us just get better at hiding it. But you don’t have to hide with me, alright?”

Your throat tightened again, but this time it didn’t scare you. You nodded. And when he offered his hand again, you took it with no hesitation.

You didn’t need rescuing. Just someone who knew when to stay, and Bucky always stayed.

[thesylenttreatment01]

I feel like Sylus as a character is just so delicious to stop and think about.

Especially if we think about it from MC's perspective and Sylus' perspective respectively

Like, MC knows Sylus would do anything for her, but like I feel like to some extent she doesn't even fully grasp why he would you know?

Like especially at first, where they are first getting to know each other maybe Sylus likes a challenge, maybe he's bored, or maybe the plot demanded it (too meta)

But for Sylus, he has spent SO much time yearning, missing, and the pain of the knowledge of their past lives haunting him like a ghost. Not only that, but the isolation of his life in general. Having this knowledge of being inextricably bound to someone, loving someone and being unable to share.

Not to mention the attitudes and behaviors that of being one of the most dangerous and feared leader in the world. We saw what kind of precautions, the warnings, the lengths that literally Raphael and Xavier went through to make sure she could literally just go to the N-109 zone. If that's what it takes to get in, then the constant alertness, isolation, and pressure to limit his vulnerability to any extend possible to just MAINTAIN his position could only be so much isolation.

and, in case that wasn't enough (because apparently the plot must make up for all the past transgressions against fairytales that feature evil dragons by giving my boi the most amount of trauma), when Sylus does let his heart show, he's more often than not met with rejection simply because of what he looks like.

Think about when he tries to care for or feed the stray cats or kittens from SO MANY of his Secret times or tender moments or hell, just in the recent memory card when he tries to catch and offer the balloon to the little girl. What do they all do? They scratch, they cry, and more importantly

They run away.

Imagine, steeling your heart away from the world, telling yourself its out of necessity, but the few, small instances that you DO choose to open up? Your met with fear and rejection.

At that point, it probably feels like sometimes why the hell keep trying?

But then MC finds him, and despite how things start.

She's not afraid of him.

I don't know if Sylus necessarily likes that MC challenges him simply because he's bored ( like I think that is a BIG reason, you get bored when you pass the Main boss battle right?) . I think its because it shows she's not afraid of him.

She doesn't meet him with fear. For once, someone shows something other than fear. Not running away the first chance they get.

She stays.

For someone who has HAD to make himself detached, someone who has to adopt a cold and angry persona, he finally found someone who he could be more than just angry with. When he responds with kindness? they don't shrink in fear. They return with a smile and playful comment. He can be a full person- not just a scary leader.

So, that wonderful warmth she stirs in his chest? He doesn't have to reject himself before she can. He can be thoughtful, he can be warm, he can be playful. He can be happy, and share it with someone else.

She's one of the first and only people who he can let his guard down with. She has given him something he probably feels is much more than any of the riches he can obtain, she has given him an entirely different REALITY. One where he can be a fruit vender helping his partner with an event for work, he can be the luxury ride that ferry's her from shop to shop because her legs hurt, he can be a personal sparring partner, he can be a friend, a companion. He can be what he always wanted to be.

He can be loved.

So yes, when MC wants to put a bow in his hair and take a photo? Of course he will. She needs new clothes? Done. If she needed to be a hunter, and never took his offer for a job seriously? Then that's how it would be.

Because I can imagine for him, no price that he could pay whether that's for his reputation, his wallet, or even a personal desire, knowing that he can give her even just a fraction of the happiness and peace that she gives him when it probably felt like no one else would.

That was worth it all. One smile, one playful bant, one small peck. Its more than he could imagine asking for.

Naturally, I think this can lead to some seriously nasty anxious attachment styles, and could totally be played for angst (and it is) but yeah, my brain could NOT stop thinking about this.

[melanchoire]

secretary yuna who makes everything to tease ceo reader patience to the limit, she foes to work with the shortest skirts ever and almost unbuttoned blouse just to tease you, she knew you were into women, how? she just knew it, one time alone you called her to your office, asking her to be more modest to dress bc she was distracting her coworkers, she getting up from the chair to sit in front of you on your desk and open her legs to touch herself feeling her panties getting wet “distracting them or you?” she teases, she knows you keep staring at her waaaayyy too much and even glancing at her ass when she bends over to pick up something or on a desk to talk with her friends and her skirt lifts up a bit, tired of her bratty behavior you grab her by the throat and give her pussy an spank “you want to be a slut? then i threat you like one”, yuna came multiple times from the amount of spanks on her pussy and then the violent fingering that came after making her squirt, you were so fucking wet as well just by seeing her squirm and hearing her pornographic moans, so you made her kneel to eat you out on your chair, she is so wonderful and skillful with her tongue, you end up squirting on her pretty face ruining her make up, she looked so hot that you pushed her face on your cunt once again, of course you needed more of her after this

cw:

it’s known that yuna’s style is based mostly on short and tight clothing because she loves that type of clothing and is fascinated by how it highlights her curves and the shape of her body! she knows she is hot and anyone who sees her is enchanted by her small waist and the soft curves of her hips, she is too beautiful and knows how to take advantage of it… and of course she would continue to maintain those preferences even if she had a job that required professional and formal clothing for the occasion! she may be a secretary in a sophisticated company where everyone is well dressed and never out of dress code, but tight shirts and pencil skirts are something that are added to the shopping cart of the virtual clothing sites where she buys most of her wardrobe items 🥰

yuna always makes sure to look attractive and beautiful, spending more time than allowed on her break looking at her makeup in the bathroom mirror and touching up her makeup or perfectly styled hair, when you’re in your office waiting for her to come back because you two have an important meeting in less than ten minutes and she is taking forever to “go pee” like she excused herself twenty minutes ago! she was basically trying to play with your patience and make you explode, but you wouldn’t give her the pleasure of making you angry because you couldn’t leave professionalism behind because of a simple hot secretary 😤

and no matter how much you call her attention and ask her in a kind and gentle tone to respect your company’s dress code and please start wearing dress pants or knee–length skirts, it seems that you’re speaking in another language that she does not understand because the day after your warning she appears with a much shorter skirt and a shirt with more buttons undone?? you always smiled when you heard her sweet voice call you as she entered your office with breakfast in hand, only to look up from your computer and find her wearing the shortest, tightest clothes possible… making your smile fade and you feel the need to scold her

she also doesn’t seem to mind when other employees blatantly stare at her ass and ogle her! ughhh yuna completely enjoys the looks she always gets from her coworkers, smiling smugly when she knows she is being looked at from head to toe with hunger in her eyes... and that only encourages her to dress more provocatively 🤗

and one day you finally get fed up with her unacceptable attitude and call her into your office, saying that you hope this is the first and last time you have to go to the trouble of reminding her of the company rules and the dress code that she has to follow and you wouldn’t even have to remind her because it’s more than obvious that she should comply... but apparently, yuna wants to bother you 🥰 as anon said, yuna would sit on top of the desk, spreading her legs and sliding a hand under her skirt, thinking that she can take control of the situation but forgets that you’re the authority here

pussy slapping for yuna :( as twisted as it sounds, she somehow enjoys the slapping?? she even cums because it feels so good… sorry, but painslut yuna 🙏🏻 she may be whimpering and whining every time your palm brutally impacts her pussy, but really, inside she is begging you to please continue 😵‍💫

ending it all by telling her to stop giving you excuses and false apologies and use her mouth for the only thing she's good at, which is being a whore

so yeah, it ends with your dress pants discarded on the floor, legs draped over each of the armrests of the desk chair, having your cute secretary on her knees in front of you and eating your pussy in apology for not respecting company rules and making you angry more than once <3

but even in such a humiliating position you still remain an annoying brat because she would be teasing your clit with the tip of her tongue all the time and slowing down her fingers pounding into your pussy just as you seem to be about to cum :( i’m sorry but she keeps the title of brat son of a bitch who seems to enjoy playing with your patience EVEN THOUGH it’s enough to grab her hair tightly and warn her that you will give her a stronger and more painful punishment if she continues to provoke you in this way, nut no matter how many warnings you give, she will play with your sanity anyway

[lowkeyerror]

Stars

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Notes: Requested, fluff, violence, soulmate au, enemies to lovers, a lil angst but not a tremendous amount

Summary: You're in the middle of a fight when Agatha notices your soulmate mark. She goes mia after that, leading you to track her down because... you miss her

An: Took awhile but I got it done. I have 1 or 2 more request before I get to the ones asking for more Help With The Curiculum & Instant Attraction but some more of both of those soon stay tuned.

Masterlist

Agatha was not a woman who often cared what fate had to say. She was not preoccupied with societies fascination surrounding soulmates. At least that’s what she would tell herself. She was busy doing whatever she wanted. Perhaps sometimes that meant tracing over the small star pattern on her wrist, thinking if she was really meant to be with someone.

“Would you at least pretend to be interested in the fight, Agatha?”

She found herself laid out on the ground as you stood across the trees from her. A scowl rests on her features as she shoots her magic at you.

“Could you just die already?”

You smirk at her, “You’d miss me too much if I did.”

“Do not flatter yourself.”

Agatha would never admit how much she enjoyed the banter between the two of you. There were sparks whenever you stood opposite of each other. Violent embers of her purple magic swept up in your elemental powers. It was more a challenge fighting you than other of her own kind. She couldn’t just drain your magic because your power was something entirely different.

You deflect her magic, redirecting it with the air. As you approach her, she keeps firing it at you. You’re used to her aggressive style of attack, so it does not stop your approach. Soon you’re nearly standing over her. She aims for your leg, leaving you no choice but to shoot up in the air. She takes that moment to stand.

It happens quicker than you expect and soon you’re being yanked down onto the floor. Agatha had pulled you back by your feet, her dark cackle filling the air, you squirm in pain as you hit the forest ground.

Agatha squats down, so that you’re face to face. She’s a moment away from saying something snarky, but the words quickly die on her lips. She feels a pit in her stomach as her eyes lock on something behind your ear.

She’s quick to turn your head to the side, further pushing it into the ground. She moves your hair out of the way to make sure she is seeing things correctly.

“Get off of me,” it’s muffled of course.

Even if it wasn’t Agatha would’ve paid no mind to focus on the tiny stars littered behind your ears.

“Why get a tattoo here, where no one can see it doll?”

You try to break from her hold, but with her holding you down by your face, it was easier said than done. You huff in annoyance, “I don’t have tattoos. Now are we going to stay like this or are you going to let me kick your ass some more?”

For once in her life, Agatha is completely speechless. Instead of confronting what she has seen, she finds herself feeling nervous. Her enemy just had to be her soulmate as well. Did life ever get tired of testing the woman’s patience?

Agatha doesn’t say anything more, opting to just vanish. You were not used to abrupt ends to your encounters with Agatha, especially those of the silent variety. Agatha never left without getting the last word or knocking you unconscious.

As you got off of the ground, you looked around. Part of you wondering if this was some kind of trick. You called out her name to no response. Your hand traces over where her hand was pressing into your face. You felt hot under her touch, her gaze felt like it was setting you on fire.

Your hands move from your jaw to the spot at the back of your ear. You knew there were stars, but you had always had them. They had been there this entire time. So why had the witch taken a sudden interest? You didn’t understand, but you didn’t care enough to discover the reasoning. Plenty of people had some sort of weird unexplainable symbol on them, you just assumed it was a normal thing.

Agatha decided that day not to go near you. She didn’t want to deal with whatever this was supposed to mean. It was easy to ignore the stupid soulmate stereotypes before she knew who her soulmate was.

After seeing those stars all she could think about was you. It was painfully irritating for Agatha. She knew just enough about you to drive her crazy, but not enough to be satisfied. She knew what your hands felt like on her skin, she knew what kind of moans and groans slipped through your lips, she knew about the softness behind your eyes. The most important thing she knew was that you were too good for her. Maybe you weren’t an outright hero, but she was aware that your moral compass was on tighter than her’s would ever be.

You had an entire life ahead of you. A life that should afford you a family, a lover you age, kids, and someone that was less chaotic than she was. Agatha never thought she would be in love again, just because she knew her soulmate didn’t mean she would stop thinking that.

For you on the other hand life without Agatha was feeling a little too mundane. The woman wasn’t the only person you fought with, but you were finding out that she was the most exciting. Everyone else was too dull in comparison. No playful banter or skill bouts, just people equivalent to busywork. It was weird coming to terms with missing the woman.

Your mind was full of images of your previous encounters. No one had the heir that Agatha carried herself with. Everything with her felt electric. At first you chalked it up her power, but something about her was addictive. It was more apparent than ever since you’ve gone this long without seeing her.

“Alright, what's going on, you aren't even paying attention?”

You were spending the day off with your friend Kate. She was a little more on the good side than you were, but you grew attached due to the fact that you were constantly running into each other.

You stare at the archer, shrugging, “Haven’t seen Agatha in a while everything’s boring without her.”

“Awe you miss your villain, that’s cute,” Kate says sarcastically.

“I just have this feeling that she’s avoiding me.”

Kate sighs, “Fine we’ll play this game, I guess. Why would she be hiding from you, when she’s the bad guy?”

You pout, “I don’t know, last time she was being kind of weird about my stars.”

Kate’s eyes go wide, “Your soulmate mark.”

“My what now?”

“Your soulmate mark, Y/n. Does Agatha have the same marking?”

“I don’t-”

“Think harder,” Kate pushes.

You start to walk through your encounters with Agatha, trying to get a glimpse of her exposed skin in your mind. You can picture yourself on top of her, pinning her down at the wrist. There’s a moment where you can see the small stars on her wrist, and it has you reeling.

“I uh I think so, on her wrist,” you say slowly piercing together what Kate is saying.

“Oh fuck, she’s your soulmate,” Kate starts to freak out.

“That’s no- it can't be real. That’s not a real thing,” you speak.

Kate lifts her shirt, and you see a little flower on her ribs, “This is my mark, Yelena has the same one on her finger. It's like fate or whatever. Y/n it’s a big deal. Agatha is your soulmate.”

You shake your head, “No, no. Agatha and I are destined to be enemies, that’s it.”

Kate rolls her eyes, “Oh I miss Agatha, everyone else is boring. Her hair’s so cool, her skin’s soft, blah blah blah.”

Your face heats up, “Hey I don’t sound like that.”

“But you do and now it’s finally making sense. She probably saw it and now she’s avoiding you.”

“Is it really that big of a deal?”

“Yes dummy. Honestly, I don’t even know what you’re still doing here. You need to go find her.”

“For what?”

Kate looks at you as if you are an idiot, “To be together, duh.”

“She’s a bad guy Kate,” you try to reason.

“Ok, but you’re not exactly a hero yourself and plus we both know that you like the villains anyway.”

“But what if-”

Kate begins to push you out of the door, “Less, what if and more, telling me about it after you find her.”

“I don’t even know where to look,” you protest lamely.

“You’re literally a master tracker,” Kate deadpans.

That’s how you end up at a normal-looking house in the suburbs. You know Agatha’s inside; you could feel her. It’s something you couldn't explain before, but now you suppose it’s because of this whole soulmate thing.

You walk up to the front door, feeling yourself become uncharacteristically nervous. That cockiness that you usually had was nowhere to be found.

“Just ring the doorbell, Y/n,” you whisper to yourself.

You do as you tell yourself. You stand awkwardly with your hands in your pocket. When the door opens, Agatha is surprised to see you.

She hides it with a quip, “Since when do you do house calls?”

You struggle to find your own words. Your eyes dart down to her wrist, hidden by her long-sleeved shirt. She feels your gaze and her face heats up.

“Can I- can I come in?”

She steps aside and lets you into her home. You follow her into the living room. She takes a seat on a chair, and you sit on the couch across from her.

The silence is new. Your normal encounters are filled with bickering, charged energy, and fighting. There’s never been a quiet moment between the two of you.

“Are we going to just sit here are we going to talk?”

Your voice is unsure as you speak, “We can talk.”

“Well, you came to find me, Y/n,” she speaks defensively.

Your eyes snap to her’s, “Because you started hiding from me.”

“I- I wasn’t hiding, you aren't my only enemy,” Agatha rebuts.

“You aren’t mine either,” you repeat the sentiment.

Agatha sighs, “Why’d you come here?”

You look away, “I think you know why.”

“Who told you?”

“A friend, why didn't you tell me?”

Agatha feels herself getting frustrated, “When exactly was I supposed to do it? Before or after I knocked you on your ass.”

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly.

“No, fuck I’m sorry. I just- this isn’t something I’ve ever taken seriously, but it feels serious now. Especially knowing that it’s you, I don’t really know what to do here doll,” she was honest with you.

“Would you consider it?” You look anywhere but her eyes.

Agatha gets up from her spot on the chair to move next to you on the couch. She leaves space between you. She focuses in on her wrist, avoiding eye contact just as you had.

“Y/n, you’re young and at the end of the day, a good-hearted girl. I’m neither of those things. I don't want you to think because of these starts we have to be together.”

“Classic Agatha, you didn't answer my question,” you chuckle softly.

“Would you consider it?” She repeats your own question.

You scoot a little closer to her, “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You didn’t have-”

“I wanted to, I-I’ve missed you,” your hand is cautious as it reaches for her’s. She lets you grab it; your thumb slides down to her wrist, rubbing against the stars. You let yourself ramble, “I’ve been chasing other criminals and doing city patrols and it’s all so boring compared to you. You just have this… this energy around you. It’s always tugged at me, pulling me into deep water. I’ve always thought I’d drown in it.”

“You could,” she says watching your hands mingle.

“The thing is I don’t think I can. I control the elements.”

She finally looks at you, “Whatever metaphor you’re going for I don’t get it.”

You meet her gaze, “I’m not scared of doing this with you, Agatha. I want to try."

“You didn’t even know what this meant a few weeks ago,” she points out.

“I didn’t, but as soon as I found out, I came straight here.”

“Y/n I don’t know,” she tries to pull her hand away, but you don’t let her.

“Kiss me,” you say, finding your confidence.

“What?”

You lightly turn her head towards yours, “It’s what soulmates are supposed to do; keep up witch killer.”

For a moment you don’t think she’ll do it, but suddenly her hand leaves yours and she’s pulling you in by the face. Her lips smash against yours and you feel like you just got electrocuted.

She’s warmer than you expected. Her lips are softer than you thought. You find yourself yearning for more.

You’re no longer next to her, but on top of her as you continue to kiss. Getting lost in the moment was almost a given. Agatha breaks the kiss when a moan slips from her lips.

Her forehead rests against yours. Your chest heaves up and down, but your eyes stay closed.

“I’ve never felt anything like that in my life,” Agatha whispers.

You open your eyes to find her already looking at you, there’s something in her eyes that you haven't seen before.

Your thumb gently tugs on her bottom lip, “Try this with me Agatha.”

You think she’s going to deny you, instead she takes your hand in her’s kissing against your knuckles.

“Ok.”

[ghostyuri]

unadulterated yearning

click!

pairing…abby anderson x gn!reader

in which…a cruel patrol somehow brings you and your roommate closer together.

before you read…angst with comfort.

such few words have been spoken between you and abby, despite being in her presence a significant amount of the day— every single day. 

you weren’t sure what you did to warrant the hostility, and why it hasn’t fleeted within the few months of you replacing her prior roommate. you knew she missed him, abby made it abundantly clear she’d rather have manny back, but you knew her despising you ran deeper than just that.

her one-sided frustration was a lot. it hurt when all you did was grace her with overbearing kindness, to simply be mocked by the woman to her friends. her friends; she wouldn’t let you in the group, leaving you isolated and alone.

you wondered if she spoke behind your back, almost hoping that was the case when they’d give you the cold shoulder, like you had done something wrong. you never thought you did. abby made you feel that way, though. 

abby couldn’t seem to find a soft spot for you. all the good things about you, she took issue with, and she would let it be known each time. god forbid you fold a shirt she had thrown on your floor, or decide to do your shared dirty dishes, or open the door for her first. she always found a mistake, a flaw, she searched for it.

you couldn’t win with her. every single try has been a failure, and for some reason, that was a hard thing to accept.

it shouldn’t be— abigail anderson should have no fucking impact on your feelings. but she does, deeply, and right now, as you wake up early for a patrol you originally weren’t scheduled for, all you feel for her is resentment.

it’s entirely her fault, somehow getting her day switched with yours, so you get the shitty shift no one wanted.

you weren’t sure why until you were informed the wlf had some sort of get-together for the holidays, an excuse for a feast and drinks. and you would be excluded from it all, because better you than her, apparently. 

you tried not to mind it, truly, you weren’t a bitch about small things like this. if you were annoyed by every little thing abby had done, you might have given up this sanctuary just to be out of her presence utterly.

it’s simply her entitlement that troubles you, the fucking audacity.

“might wanna put on more gear. pretty cold out there,” her voice calls from the other side of the room, where she’s lying comfortably in bed with a book on her chest, eyeing you getting ready to leave. you scoff. 

“i’m serious,” she dares to add, though her tone lacks sincerity to you, “wouldn’t want you catching a cold.”

“how thoughtful, abigail.”

she rolls her eyes at the use of her name, a small win for you.

those are the last words you tell her before taking off, leaving abby alone, and feeling alone. it’s odd. she likes when you’re around, to bother you, of course. the cool wind is harsh against the stadium window, a tinge of guilt already hitting her. 

but if she could praise you for anything, it’s how much you can endure. nothing here has been easy for you, and yet you’re still here. she pushes you, and you push back. you’d be fine, might even make it back for the last hour of celebrations, making patrol worth it for the sweet reward at the end of the harsh day.

abby was very wrong.

harsh was a kind word to put for the day you had.

the sun is down by the time you arrive back. you’re freezing and bleeding, having skipped the infirmary out of embarrassment. you didn’t want to be a letdown or a burden, especially if abby were to find out how poorly you performed out there; so you’d pretend today was fine.

at least, until you’re locked away safely in your bedroom. 

once you are, you turn on the light, letting out a deep sigh you hadn’t known you were keeping in, leaning against the door just so you could stop walking for a split fucking second. that’s when you feel the throbbing on your thigh, eyes drifting to the now crimson-stained makeshift bandage wrapped tightly around it. 

you don’t have the energy to change it. you don’t even have the energy to change in general, only peeling off your jacket, and picking up whatever grey sweatshirt was thrown on the floor near you. 

you know it’s not yours when you smell the familiar pine scent, the one you associate with abby. 

weirdly, it’s incredibly comforting right now. even if she would scold you to not touch her shit when she got back. you really don’t care. you drag your sore feet to your bed, climbing beneath the covers, clinging to the blanket, begging for warmth that seems to refuse your body.

it’s moments later that you hear the door open.

abby enters, a bit buzzed from the party, tripping on your discarded jacket right away. she mutters beneath her breath, picking the piece of clothing up, and walking toward your bed. when she opens her mouth to speak again, it immediately shuts, and she halts her steps.

her gaze fell on you, huddled under your blanket, body shivering even in your sleep.

there’s a strange tug at her chest— both sympathy and guilt stirring deeply inside of her. you’re curled into yourself like a child, and you appear as innocent as one before her. innocent and in pain. left out from the festivities of the night, alone, out there, to come home, and be alone again. 

maybe it’s the alcohol, but abby feels like she’s suffering with you, simply by watching your body involuntarily shake.

“y/n?” abby calls out your name softly, closing the gap between her and your bed. you don’t stir at first, not until she repeats your name once more, but even then, you hardly acknowledge her. 

you hum, not daring to open your eyes and welcome the light to your corneas. 

“you okay?” abby asks, knowing it’s a stupid question with an obvious answer. you don’t think of it as stupid, though, it might be the kindest thing she’s done, checking in on you…are you dying?

“mhm,” you hum again, “just…cold.”

the words come out in an accidental whisper, unsure if she had even heard you. she does, not even questioning her next decision; she had the urge to help you, one she couldn’t shake off or ignore like in other moments where you could’ve used a hand. this is different. she doesn’t know why, but it is.

it’s just a few seconds later that abby had taken her blanket, the comforting weight of it being draped carefully over your body, abby doing her best to cover your head to toe. 

the long-going tension between you two doesn’t exist at the moment, abby’s sweet gesture becoming the highlight of this stupid fucking day. she had a heart. and she gave a tiny piece of it to you with the blanket. 

“thank you, abby,” your voice is still barely audible, but she catches it, nodding though you couldn’t see her. 

the room fell silent again, and abby wasn’t sure if she should walk away, or keep awkwardly watching you from the edge of your bed. 

she walks away; only after you stop shaking, soft breathing from your sleeping form. she wonders if it is weird she literally watched you sleep, but her concern is overbearing.

abby crawls into her bed, laying her head on her pillow, and shutting her eyes. your face is the last thing on her mind before drifting off, not the first time this has occurred, but the first time acknowledges it’s not due to the loathing she has felt for you. it’s something else.

the next morning, abby wakes up to the sunlight barely filtering through the window, eyes drifting to the lower half of her body. 

her blanket returned, along with yours, an additional warmth that has her dreading the idea of getting up.

especially when she notices you had already left the room, and you weren’t going to be the first face her eyes laid upon…fuck. abby gulps at her thoughts about you. 

these now, suddenly, extremely confusing, thoughts. what is this feeling?

[paracosmic-murdock]

days of the new avengers* lives

episode seven: pets

you and yelena watch french movies that aren't dubbed, so you ask valentina for a french tutor to learn. alexei buys pets for the team. bucky training bob goes wrong.

careful who you assemble

pairing: new avengers* x fem!new avenger!reader

tags/warnings: new avengerz assemble, found family kinda, bullying john (maybe affectionately), mockumentary, sapphic reader, eventually mel gold x reader, using y/n as little as i can, this one has some feelz there around and lots of platonic bucky x reader that could be misunderstood (and was by certain someones), reader and bucky get caught in the void!!, tony stark mentioned, reader's position on civil war revealed, past wanda x reader (romantic + unrequited) mentioned, mentions of wanda's death, russian as sokovian, reader likes dogs, more to be added bc i'm going with the flow tbh

3.3K words

✰ days of the new avengers' lives masterlist

✰ mila's anthology (main masterlist)

Yelena and you had started a new tradition: movie night.

Your newest idea was to watch French movies. Thus far, you have seen Les Misérables, Persepolis, and Benedetta. Your difficulty to understand it well enough was stealing the magic from it, so you considered something.

Something that would require blackmailing and dedication.

As nobody else ever joined you —in all honesty, you wouldn’t want it any other way— you could put your plan in practice without much trouble. That way, you could also watch sad movies, cry in French, and not worry about John's mocking looks.

Because John is kind of an asshole and he finds your emotions funny.

“Can you imagine if John was there when we watched La La Land?” Yelena laughed.

“I think he would’ve cried, too,” you replied. “Unless he and Olivia are doing well.”

“Wait, they're talking like that?”

You looked at her, amused. “Are they talking like that? You bet things have been happening in John F. Walker's routine.”

“Things?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Things indeed,” You gave her a knowing look.

“Wait, what does she even know about my routines? I only go pick up my son!”

“Which son?” Ava asked with a smirk. “Your second-born in the making?”

“Shut up, Starr,”

“If it's a girl, call her Ava. If it's a boy, Bucky.”

“Beep off.”

Yelena and you grinned at each other as you worked on your conversation exercise to introduce yourselves. The greetings, deciding whether to be formal or informal when talking, wondering how it would be to make up new names were probably the most fun you've had in months.

The French lesson lasted two hours, and Thérèse, your teacher, even left you homework for the next class. You two were getting ready to do it when the elevator rang to announce Alexei's arrival from a mystery shopping session.

“Team!” he yelled, almost distressed, catching your attention immediately. “I brought gifts!”

“Dad, you scared the beep out of me!” she complained and stood up, looking at the ungodly amount of pets he was carrying. “What's all that?!”

“I brought pets!” Alexei exclaimed, putting the tanks and cages on the floor. “You take the yezh.”

He encouraged you to walk towards it and pointed at the hedgehog in its cage. “What?”

“This is Josh,” he said. You looked at the camera in awe. “I named her Josh because it sounds like yezh. But it's female.”

“Yezh is hedgehog in Russian,” Yelena explained.

“I know that,” you replied. “I meant what the beep.”

“Dad, why did you bring animals here?”

“For you to learn responsibility,” he said.

“I already have Sweet Cheeks and I'm very responsible, mind you.”

“And I basically co-parent Sweet Cheeks and Alpine,” You shrugged. “I- I can't-”

He smiled and put his hand on your shoulder. “You will be an excellent hedge mother. Where are the others?”

Soon enough, Bucky, Bob, Ava, and John were in the common room.

“I don't think this is a good idea, you know?” Bucky mentioned.

“Bob will have the lizard,” Alexei instructed, pointing at the very small leopard gecko in its tank. Bob approached it on the table and started looking at it carefully. “And Ava will have the fish.”

Ava made a disgusted face at the half a dozen of cardinal tetras, but accepted her unfortunate fate.

“John, the hamster will be yours,”

“Beep no, Alexei!”

He frowned. “Do you prefer the dog?”

“We will be returning those, Alexei,” Bucky said. “We can't have so many animals here. There's enough work with Yelena's guinea pig and Alpine when we go on missions.”

“No problem, we'll have them for a week only unless you decide to adopt them,” He grinned. “And I keep the dog. The pet person said this gets along with cats.”

Ava frowned. “I'm sorry, how did you manage to get that dog? I'm pretty sure that's a ridiculously expensive Charles Spaniel here.”

“I got a credit card from Valentina.”

“Uh, can you take care of a dog, Dad?” 

“We'll find out,”

You shook your head. “No, we won't. I take the dog. John takes Josh. You take the hamster.”

“What are you doing? Why are we entertaining this beep?” John questioned.

“I'll name them Maple,” You smiled and took the puppy in your hands. “Is it a girl or a boy?”

“Female.”

“C’mere, my baby,” you whispered to the puppy and then left her on your lap. “I think I'm keeping her, though.”

Bucky shook his head. “We're not keeping any of them.”

“Beep off, Bucky. I literally fought for Alpine to stay,” you reminded him. “And, calm down, you won't have to be Maple's uncle.”

He rolled his eyes.

“The gecko's name is gonna be Syrup,” Bob commented with a smile. “Like maple syrup.”

Your face lit up. “That's so cute! You are Maple's favorite uncle.”

Bucky huffed and stood up, leaving the common room.

“It's okay, baby, Uncle Bucky is just super grumpy. He'll get over it. Let's find Alpine before he takes her to his room!”

“See? The pets were an amazing idea.”

John, Ava, and Yelena groaned in annoyance.

“That beep hedgehog is nocturnal.”

Ava snorted, smiling amusedly at the camera. “Sorry for that, Walker.”

“At least we aren't She-Hades and her dog. She's the one who'll have it hard.”

“Totally,” she agreed. “And I'm not particularly planning on taking care of those fish. If we go on a mission, the only person willing to take care of them is most likely to be on said mission with me or in charge of her own torment. Or worse, of all the pets: Maple, Syrup, Alpine, Sweet Cheeks… I can't add to the reason she goes insane, that's what John is here for.”

“We can never have a civil conversation, can we?”

“If you want one of those, you're looking at the wrong place to have one.”

“Yeah, I should know better at this point,” John rolled his eyes. “Anyway, let's go now. Alexei wakes up at ten.”

“Me and John are going to return our pets,” Ava announced, pointing at the tank and cage John was carrying. “Don't you snitch on us, Chad.”

Bucky, John, and Alexei believed that your lack of presence in the training room meant they could work with Bob themselves.

Since the mission had been very smooth and Bob had been great, they thought he was ready for ruthless fighting techniques. To teach him moves so he could later apply his brute force into them. To improve.

However, they were failing miserably.

“I beep told you that it would be too much!” John yelled at Bucky. “How many soldiers have you trained, huh? Huh?!”

Bucky groaned in annoyance. “Oh, and how many did you train?”

“Like, dozens!”

“Were any of them enhanced, Walker?!”

“What difference does it even make?! We're not training Sentry right now, this is Bob! You want him to turn into Sentry suddenly and use enough strength to kill us in one punch? No, right? Then stop pushing too much!”

“You are acting like he's Hulk.” Alexei said.

“Actually, emotion does trigger transformation,” Bob noted. “Y/N and I found out the bad way.”

“The bad way?” John frowned.

“Yeah, you don't wanna know,” he replied, trying to look unphased.

“What? You punch her?” Alexei asked.

Bob shook his head. “I wish it was something like that,” and he sighed. All three looked at him in acknowledgement and wondered how you had the guts to leave the training room without giving away the fact that you spent hours in the Void only to help Bob, as if it was nothing. 

But Bucky knew. He knew why you did it: because you cared. Because you had been where Bob was: taking that ‘chance’ to be part of something bigger, maybe to help in a way that mattered, not in control, having something anyone would call a gift being closer to Hell on Earth, on the wrong side before earning a choice, redeeming yourself as if you could make up for everything you've done one day. And, if you could do something to help ease Bob and support him in his journey, you would. You would go to lengths beyond you if you knew it would help him. Bucky knows that too well because you've done the same for him.

The connection you and Bucky share goes way beyond the people and spaces that link you. It goes beyond Steve and beyond Wakanda. It is there in key moments: being HYDRA's favorite toys to break, you leaving everything behind so you could be there for him despite not knowing him—not really at least, realizing that the only thing keeping you from solitude and insanity was having each other, facing the loss of the people you loved the most together, crossing the line of morality to protect each other… the things you have done for him and he for you, the things you are still willing to do without hesitation; that is what connects you.

“You guys don't have to do any of this, you know? Just because I felt like training today doesn't mean I had to.”

So, maybe it was the Bucky that loves you and wishes to protect you above all, or maybe the Bucky that was jealous at the thought of his best friend going through all that trouble for someone else. Like, is he not the special one anymore? 

He doesn't know which option was more embarrassing for him.

“Yeah, I honestly think we have to be heavily trained first,” John noted. “But I'll talk to Y/N.”

“I'll help,” Bucky said. “We can do this, Bob.”

“Are you sure? I know you knew what I meant when I said I hurt her worse than physically. I don't want to do that to you.”

Bucky raised the corner of his lips in a kind, small smile. “You won't hurt me, Bob. I'm not scared of you, I trust you.”

Chad congratulated them for the meaningful shot and left.

“He totally shouldn't have trusted me,” Bob said with embarrassment. He looked anywhere else to avoid the camera, eyes landing on Syrup.

He sighed.

“I guess I should learn to be in control.”

“Shit, fucking shit,” you murmured to yourself, running into the training room and closing the door behind you in hopes for Bob's relapse not being bad enough to spread much further to the point it could exist or be seen outside the room. “Fuck…”

You threw your bag anywhere and ran into the shadows, getting ready to spend the possible worst couple hours of your month there.

Once you were inside, you appeared in your room. The one you got used to by now.

And you knew the drill: ignoring your family's bodies, turning the man crouched and about to find you under the bed to stone before he saw you—before he took you, getting under the bed and in front of a smaller yourself, wiping your ten-year-old version's tears, and kissing your own forehead. “Vse budet khorosho, detka.”

Telling yourself that ‘everything will be alright, little one’.

It hurt, but not enough to harm all that much.

When you opened your eyes again, you were in your old room at the Avengers Compound. This one? It was new, and you already hated seeing Tony that last time and sensing the disappointment in his voice he tried to hide as he said goodbye.

“I heard it's too hot in Wakanda,” He shook his head. “And that there's not much to do.”

An eighteen year-old you grinned. “Actually, I think there's a lot for me there, you know? Like… too much happens in this fuckass city. A little peace will do no harm. And you can call me, you know? I can always come visit if I'm welcome.”

“Are you one call away?” Tony asked, a bittersweet smile on his lips.

“As long as nobody throws my ass in jail,” You saw yourself shrug. “I'm sorry for… leaving. I feel like staying out of it was choosing the side of indifference, but I never wanted to be against anyone. I was never sure what was the right thing, I don't think I'll ever be, I just know I never wanted to hurt my family. That includes you and Steve too.”

“And Wanda.”

You pressed your lips tightly. “She got dragged into another war. When she was gaining as much normalcy as an Avenger can get, Lagos happened. This happened. I don't blame her, even if you do.”

“But it hurts,” Tony pointed out the thing you knew too well.

“She got away,” you murmured. “I thought we had had enough war for a hundred lifetimes, that we could just leave and start over. She thought otherwise, so… now she's gone and overthinking it is of no use.”

“I'm sorry about this. I shouldn't have let this happen, let it come this far.”

You sighed. “We are all at fault, Tony. I'm sorry about it, too. I'm sorry for leaving.”

“But you're still a kid. You don't have to be sorry for choosing yourself for once.”

That was the problem. You weren't choosing yourself—you were choosing Bucky.

You were choosing the man who killed his parents over him and he knew it better than he would've wanted to. He knew why. He knew you saw in Bucky the darkness left by the light HYDRA stole from both of you. He knew you enough to catch it from the moment you backed off and decided to leave them to fend for themselves instead of signing the Sokovia Accords or choosing teams.

Tony felt your betrayal, you knew he did. And he saw that silent awareness in your eyes as you let him live in your lie. He knew how it killed you to leave it all behind, so he chose someone other than himself for once and just went with it to spare you.

And, if he knew that would be the last time you saw each other, he would have hugged you before closing that door without looking back. You, however, knew that it was probably the last time, but didn't have the guts to stop him.

You just cried without realizing it before blinking and appearing in Westview that day, when Wanda's hex was finally lifted and she chose to leave instead of picking you. She rejected your love like you knew she would, because you meant little compared to the grief Vision left behind. That day haunted you because you could have done more. You could have insisted she stays instead of blaming her for leaving you. You could have offered comfort instead of telling her she would lose the one person who loved her through everything, that not even Vision knew her like you did, that nobody would love her like you always have, that she was making a mistake. You could have had some dignity and respect instead of making her feel guilty for trying to find her own path. If you hadn't been so hard on her, you know she would have stayed.

Because she loved you, too; maybe not like that anymore. But she loved you. And your words were what pushed her to the edge that one day, what caused the detrimental solitude that drove her mad.

And now she is gone, and you have made peace with it despite who you turned into the moment she walked away from you, but you could never forget her or the mark she left on you.

So you turned around and, when you did, you saw Bucky breaking down. You saw him look at himself as the Winter Soldier, telling Steve he was his mission, hitting him as if he were a punching bag in a rage room, hearing his best friend say he would never hurt him back because he was with him ‘til the end of the line, whatever that meant. So you ran to Bucky like you have learnt to do by force of habit.

“Buck, Bucky, look at me,” You got in front of him, interrupting his view. “I'm here. I'm right here. I'm…”

Suddenly, the void perished. Bucky was still on his knees, crying in silence, a vacant stare you hadn't seen in a while.

You didn't look away, you didn't care for it.

“Bucky,” you whispered, meeting his eyes. “It's over. You are here, you are safe, you are safe with me.”

His breathing was ragged, soon turning into desperate gasps for air. You only held him, driving his head to your chest so he could mimick your breathing and his ear could catch your heartbeat.

Steady, alive, there.

You hushed him and caressed his hair. Gently, softly, careful, with a fondness that grounds him, especially when he has felt it for long enough to remember he is too privileged.

Just then, he held you tightly as if you could slip away any second. As if the moment he let go of you, you would go somewhere more important. As if he was just lucky that you stumbled onto him first.

But it wasn't like that, because Bob was at ease already. Mel, appearing like God himself had summoned her, was standing beside him and staring at the whole thing.

And when you looked up and noticed it, you caught no one other than Chad there filming the scene of you and Bucky.

“Chad,” you called him. He cut immediately and showed you a thumbs up, like congratulating you for the show. “Listen to me very carefully because I will not repeat myself: if you don't delete that video right this fucking second, I will kill you. I am not saying this just to say it, I am not joking, and this is not a warning. This is a threat, and you might as well report this to HR or even the police, because I am dead serious.”

“Delete it, Chad,” Mel ordered. “The views or whatever you want, they're not important. This is.”

Once Chad had shown her that he did indeed delete the footage of you calming Bucky down, Bob escorted him out of the training room.

But Mel stayed for some reason she ignored and witnessed first hand how deep your connection with Bucky was. She realized that you couldn't live without each other, and that whatever she was feeling and whatever you might feel too, if anything at all, would never be anywhere as great.

“I'll be heading out,” she informed, taking a step back.

“Mel,” you called her and, against her better judgment, she stayed. “Thank you.”

Mel didn't know for sure what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn't you thanking her. Maybe the delusional in herself wanted you to tell her that it wasn't what it looked like, asking if she could wait for you and talk. But it wasn't that, which only meant that you saw her as her actions, not as her.

All she ever wanted was for anybody to see her. The Mel she is outside of Val's assistant, the Mel she might be.

She thought you didn't.

But you certainly did, just not right this moment where the only person who had never left you, who had always accepted you, needed you the most.

Mel also valued that. Seeing you being so caring made her like you even more, made her wish so bad she could get that version of you for herself.

But does she have to be a broken thing to get your attention? Or would just Mel be interesting enough?

[botanyshitposts]

Hey! I'm not a botanist, but I'm in circles where it's a bigger thing and I'm kind of curious about something.

So, from an outsider's perspective, the genus Garcinia has a lot of weird and messy classifications. For example, common species like G. intermedia and G. gardneriana are really similar to Garcinia brasiliensis, to the point that it's pretty controversial if they're actually separate species. The Garcinia species colloquially known as "achachairú" also appears to bear a lot of similarities to that trio (although much less than they share with each other), HOWEVER it's almost exclusively referred to (in cultivation and in studies) as G. humilis, a Carribean species with small oval-shaped leaves, despite actually having very long lanceolate leaves and being exclusively found in the Andean foothills of Bolivia. Also, multiple frequently cultivated species like Luc's garcinia and Russell's sweet garcinia haven't actually been described yet, despite for example the former having a decent amount of scientific interest and frequent genetic testing done on it.

All of these odd classification things and even more others have been pretty well known in my circles for the past 15 years-ish, but still nobody seems anywhere close to a conclusion for them. How long does it usually take for a genus to get organized when it has as many species as Garcinia does? And how do they do it? Do they go around testing every single species or only a few at a time? If a species is currently not named, do the same people usually describe them as part this endeavor, or just leave them for somebody else? I saw Plinia and Artocarpus recently got reshuffled a lot because of some prominent genetic studies on them, and several new species and even genera were added, but it just seems alien to me how stuff like that even ends up happening. There are so many plants out there!

Sorry if I'm asking the wrong person here, but I've been wondering about how this stuff will eventually be resolved for yeeeearrs

There are so many plants out there!

ok im kind of surprised i can offer a few possible answers to this question despite having never heard of this but i think i can. if the question is 'why aren't some plants actually described', this is the primary reason why.

when i was in plant anatomy class in college, the person teaching us was a plant anatomist who assigned us different plants from the greenhouse to dissect and describe in a paper for her, and she told us that we might find something that hadn't been described before, which was pretty shocking to me. what do you mean i could potentially find a new-to-science thing? has nobody in history looked at this plant that's just growing in the greenhouse upstairs??

what she said was that no, sometimes not. there are so many plants out there that it's difficult to do one exact in-depth description and published examination of each species, so what botanists end up doing is doing or finding one in-depth examination of one species in a specific group and assuming that all the others in the group are at least similar, if not the same. which is good because it saves time and works as a shorthand, especially if there's not much funding, but also sometimes it has the potential to overlook more nuanced differences that can go undiscovered for a long time. but that's just botanical species in the conventional sense, which i don't think is as straightforward in what you're describing.

another answer to this question that's more specific to the species you're talking about here is that plants are having sex. they have so so so soooo much sex. few things they enjoy more to be honest. and given that the most conventional (but not only) definition for different species is 'can't have sex with other species because it's too different from them', the lines get blurrier to deal with, and one thing botanists do when the lines between species get too blurry (because of all the sex) is to just assume that they're all part of some kind of hard-to-describe genetic soup with individual plants falling along gradients or spectrums of similarities or differences, and in this case you'll see botanists just name the most prominent species among them and call it the '[most common suspect] complex', which groups together all the ones that happen to be having sex with each other at the same time, just to make them easier to talk about. this typically doesn't mean that they're species-less, but more that they can be thought of as a group with a few distinct points where they can look very distinct, and those points are the species, if that makes sense; see the citrus sex graph at the end for an example.

i also see from a cursory google search that people seem to be planting and eating these in a more widespread way, and people are talking about them on forums and stuff. this is one of the cases in botany where things get tricky, because a person looking for traits in a fruit that's having tons of sex might not actually be looking for the same things botanists are looking for when describing a species-- it might seem easiest to just find which species or few species are the tastiest and grow those, but if it's a genetic soup then all you can really do is do it the old fashioned way and breed individual plants for the traits you want. which, who knows, could end up being a hybrid between all of them.

case in point: again i am not completely up to date with the lore here but i found a forum thread where people were debating which species to plant and the consensus was just to plant multiple species at once, which is fine but is also really funny given that it DOES facilitate even more sex, thus blurring the lines even further and-- if the posters decide to plant the resulting seeds from the fruits-- will create even MORE hybrid plants of no discernible concrete species in the plant soup. the hybrid of a hybrid of a hybrid of a hybrid or whatnot. when does one stop calling it a hybrid between two species and start calling it 'the tree in grandma's backyard that's the tastiest of the berries i've tried'? that is the question, truly, one humanity has had for millennia in the search for the tastiest berry, and at that point it might just be easier to call it a variety or cultivar, which are horticultural terms for just that-- a distinct 'kind' among the same species that taste good subjectively and can be reliably rebred and harvested, like all the apple varieties people debate about.

another reason is that plant phylogenies are hard and brain-twisting and plant taxonomists and systemisists are among our strongest warriors. it's not uncommon at all in botany to be researching something and to find out it's been reshuffled because of a new breakthrough on the case a bunch of people more qualified on the subject decided made more sense like a decades later. sometimes species themselves will even change names multiple times if it turns out that it was described earlier by someone else considering the new circumstances. if you're a really unlucky or just controversial plant all this can happen over and over again until, finally, the trees of math have been resolved in a way that makes sense. how long will it take? surely there is a concrete end to the madness? nah. lol

finally, if you're looking into studies on this, you should know that some phylogeny stuff is opinion-based or subjective, especially at first. what counts as a new group for one group of researchers might not count as one for another. so when you see stuff where people are inventing new categorizations or genuses or whatnot or merging multiple ones together spontaneously, it'll depend on how well supported their reasoning is and what the evidence seems to show, and the larger community of plant taxonomists will, overtime, decide what they want to do with that information-- which may include verifying it or refuting it with more evidence. what researchers are proposing when they split stuff off or merge it together is a new or updated model for thinking about existing information, and that model may be more or less useful than the existing one for the means of actually learning more about the plants.

anyway in short there are lots of reasons why this might not be sorted out and the more sex these plants have the longer it's gonna take. i'm strongly reminded of that one citrus sex graph (its this one) (screenshotted to see it on night mode):

[i-willstealyourtoes]

Hello! I saw that you do Bad batch requests and I was wondering if you could do a Bad Batch x Fem!Reader💞 where they get captured and she has to go in and flirt with the target to distract guards so they can get out and when it’s over they’re like “no no you’re ours” and after that you can be as explicit or as non explicit as you feel like.

Love your writing! Hope you’re doing well!🩷

AW YEAH, CLONE TROOPER TIME ‼️‼️ You didn't specify which era of CF99 you wanted, so I just went with S1!TBB.

I feel like I wrote a lot of nothing here, sorry if I didn't do this one justice T-T

S1!TBB x F!Reader (flirting with the guards)

Hunter didn't intend on getting captured, of course, he never does,

But when the cartel threw him against the hard floor of the club, all he could think was 'at least the others are fine'.

Then Tech and Wrecker were thrown in the same private room as him, in cuffs.

"Hey, at least I wasn't first to get caught this time!"

"Yes, but the fact remains that we were still caught."

"But I wasn't first-"

Meanwhile, Echo was already aware of the situation. It was clear when they didn't respond to their comms.

All he had to do was find them.

"Oh. You're finally here."

And find him he did.

He just happened to also be in cuffs.

But hey, the team's back together :)

"Did you contact-"

"Yeah, don't worry. She'll manage just fine."

Although with how things have gone, with the 4 of them in cuffs in the private room of a club, Echo wasn't so sure himself.

And it wasn't that you weren't competent or skilled, they made sure of that when they brought you along,

But whether you were confident or not, you could admit that the amount of guards you spotted was... unpleasant.

But, on the bright side, you could tell what kind of people they were.

That is to say, womanising, cocky criminals.

You could work with that.

"Hello."

The first two guards were easier than expected. Just a simple, smooth greeting and a bit of small talk, and they were both gone to look for your purse in hopes you'd reward them.

Hunter could pick up your scent the moment you entered the hallway leading to their room. He could always sense you.

As could the others, by seeing the way their brother's eyes would perk up, trying to glance through the tiny gap of the door to try catch a glimpse of you.

"What's going on? What's she doing?"

Wrecker tried to nudge his brother for more info, but Hunter was too busy trying to focus on the sound of you.

Clothes rustling, your sweet - but manufactured - laughs, and...

"Hello, handsome... You got some time for a girl like me..?"

(Guys I CANNOT flirt pls forgive me)

"Is... something wrong?"

Tech could pick up the way Hunter's hands seemed to clench. Was she in danger? No, he'd fuss more if she was.

"Get me a good drink, and we'll see how lucky you are, hm?"

They could all hear that one.

"HEY- Wha- ugh-"

Wrecker was the first to outwardly react, falling to his side to gaze out and find you.

There was two things he noticed; you were here - which was always good - but you were also touching some guy.

"She's simply utilizing her skills and appearance to move the guard elsewhere."

Tech was right (as he usually is), but Wrecker, again wasn't too fond of the idea.

"Yeah, but... I don't like it.."

"I don't think any of us do."

Neither was Echo, but he could at least keep some of his disgust inwards.

They weren't mad at you necessarily, rather at the idea of their (Y/n), their girl, having to use those sweet words meant for them and no one else..

If feelings could kill, those guards would have popped like balloons.

Let's just say, they were counting the seconds you spent with that guard before he left to get a drink.

And to their (and your) relief, you didn't take long to quickly find them, managing to pick their cuffs individually.

They didn't seem to ask about it, focusing back on the task at hand rather than what happened back there. But you could tell they didn't like what you did.

Of course they didn't.

Given that they were all a little too silent for your liking on the way back, you assumed they all didn't like it either.

It made sense. You were their girlfriend, and flirting with people - even to save their asses - wasn't exactly gonna go unnoticed.

"Alright, come on, tell me what's up."

Although Echo and Tech didn't seem to respond initially,

Wrecker and Hunter seemed a little more irritated.

"You know 'what's up.' What was all that back there?"

You knew they were being irrationally mad, and so did they, but that didn't stop them from letting out anyway.

"If you didn't think you could handle them with force you should've just-"

"Just what? Leave you??"

"Yes, if it meant you wouldn't do that. What if something happened and they took you somewhere? Then what? You're not allowed to do that. Not with anyone else."

Although Hunter wasn't exactly being rational, you could at least tell what he really meant. He just wanted you to be safe.

"Yeah, we would've been able to handle ourselves without you!"

"That's not necessarily true. But I agree with Hunter. We should utilise the next few days to continue your combat training. It would be better than... that."

You knew it was bad when Tech joined in too. If he was heated over something, it was big.

"We just want you to be safe."

And when Echo started speaking up too? Big deal.

"Bullshit, there's more. Tell me what you're really thinking."

You kept pushing deeper, and deeper, until you felt a hand on the back of your neck.

"You're ours, (Y/n). Not anyone else's. And you shouldn't be touching or talking to anyone like that but us. Got it?"

Hunter's voice was always gruff, but it genuinely sent the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up when you heard that rough tone,

But maybe that was just because he'd started stroking the skin of the back of your neck with his finger.

"Yeah, you're our girl. So don't go... flirting with any guards again, okay?"

If you weren't already aware of it somehow, Wrecker's jealousy was evident too, especially when he came up on the other side of you and placed his palm to your lower back, as if to punctuate his point.

You think if you weren't sitting against the console, his hand would be a little lower..

"They're right. You should save those touches for us only."

If he could, you think Echo would probably come over too, just to hold your hand, or maybe your thigh. You couldn't think as clearly with how dizzy you'd started to feel with two of your boyfriends already caressing your skin.

"We can do more training, so you feel more confident in your skills next time."

Tech seemed satisfied just seeing the others around you, but,

"In fact... why don't we start training now? We can work on your endurance."

Echo had clearly had enough at this point. After what happened back there, he needed this just as much as the others.

"Hah, yeah. We can give you a real workout."

Wrecker was more than willing to oblige, of course.

"..Yes, I suppose we could start now. If you would like."

They'd never force you of course, but you could tell they were absolutely buzzing with pent-up energy, both from the botched mission, and what you did with those guards.

If you say yes, be ready for probably one of the most intense workouts of your life.

Because they will not hold back. They never can when it's you.

[romancelvr]

How Dead Boy Detectives is free from NG

I realize the title is a bit eyebrow raising, but I am here to lay out how Dead Boy Detectives, both the comic and TV have actually very little to do with NG. His name as of late has (rightly) been dragged through the mud, but Dead Boy Detectives in actuality does not deserve to be dragged down with him. 

To start with: the comics. Charles and Edwin made their first appearance in Sandman # 25 in 1991. They weren’t associated with the name “Dead Boy Detectives” until the Children’s Crusade arc starting in 1993. 

Starting in 2001, these characters were written exclusively by Ed Brubaker and Jill Thompson with no contributions or writing by NG. It wasn’t until 2013 they were granted their own comic series. It was ordered by Vertigo and written by Toby Litt and Mark Buckingham. They were the writers that created and introduced Crystal Palace. 

Most important THIS was the comic series the show is based off of. NG didn’t write or work on this comic series at all. When the comic series was originally published both Toby and Mark were interviewed about expanding these characters away from the Sandman comics. 

Their work is the basis of the show we’ve all grown to love. Back before the show debuted in January 2024 Toby was even interviewed about how excited he was to see Crystal on screen as she was a character HE created. 

Regarding the show, Steve Yockey was the one who approached WB/DC about the series and bought the rights to the show himself. 

Backing this up is per copyright holdings for DBD, the show is entirely owned by WB where Steve is employed with an ongoing deal that started in 2022. 

On NG’s tumblr he himself stated multiple times he had nothing to do with the show, that it is entirely Steve Yockey’s. 

In summation, despite the fact that these characters debuted and were in a few issues of Sandman, NG has had nothing to do with them since 1994. In regards to money, which I know is the hot button issue for everyone, if NG makes money it would be a very small amount, if indeed he makes any at all.

For nearly 30 years these characters have had a life of their own, and deserve to stand on their own merit. Starting with the many wonderful writers who gave them their own voices in the comics, to the writers of the show and finally the cast who brought them to life onscreen. 

Please grant them that respect and don’t drag them in with NG they do not deserve it. 

UPDATE 9/7/2024

I wanted to add further evidence my friend was kind enough to send me regarding this matter. Doing a search for NG on this site: https://cocatalog.loc.gov/cgi-bin/Pwebrecon.cgi?DB=local&PAGE=First the US Copyright database verifies NG OWNS NOTHING of Dead Boy Detectives.

Not the characters, their names, anything even from the comics back in the 90s. If you want to search and check yourself feel free to on the link above. I just wanted everyone to know this as I'm not giving up on saving this show.

[areyoufuckingcrazy]

hi!! I adored your recent tech fic “more than calculations” abd was wondering if I could request something between tech and a reader who doesn’t flirt or do all the romance things kind of how tech is? I love the idea of them having the same way of showing each other love and they just understand each other even if others don’t really understand how they are together! I hope that made a bit of sense 🙈🩷 thank you!! 💗

“Exactly Us”

Tech x Reader

“Are you two… together?”

Omega blinked up at you, head tilted with that signature mix of innocent curiosity and surgical precision, like she was investigating the oddities of adult behavior again.

Tech glanced up from his datapad, not the least bit ruffled. You didn’t look away from the gear you were calibrating, either. A beat passed.

“Yes,” you both said in perfect unison.

Omega squinted, unconvinced.

“But you don’t do anything!” she exclaimed, arms flailing slightly. “No hand-holding, no kissing, no—ugh—staring at each other like Wrecker and that woman from the food stalls!”

You shrugged. “We fixed the water pump system together last night. That was plenty.”

Tech nodded. “And we enjoy our shared quiet time between 2100 and 2130 hours. Typically on the cliffside bench.”

Omega made a face. “That’s it?”

“That is a significant amount of bonding,” Tech replied, tapping at his datapad. “Just because it doesn’t conform to more overt romantic displays does not mean the bond is any less valid.”

You added, without looking up, “We don’t need to prove anything.”

Omega grumbled and wandered off, muttering something about how weird grownups were. You smirked faintly.

When the datapad made a soft chime, Tech turned it toward you. It was a thermal reading—your shared analysis project on the geothermal vents near the northern cliffs.

“You were correct,” he said, adjusting his goggles. “There is a secondary vent system. I suspect it branches beneath the island’s reef shelf.”

You leaned closer to the screen. “Nice. That’ll stabilize the water temps around the farms. You wanna go check it out?”

“Affirmative,” he said. Then, after a pause: “I enjoy when we do these things together.”

You looked up at him and nodded, your version of “I do too.”

The two of you set out across Pabu, walking in companionable silence. You didn’t talk much. You didn’t have to. There was a rhythm, an ease to your presence beside each other. When you handed Tech a scanner without being asked, or when he adjusted your toolbelt with a small, thoughtful flick of his fingers — that was your version of affection.

Sometimes, Wrecker would nudge Crosshair (visiting, grumbling, but always watching) and whisper, “How do they even like each other?”

Crosshair would reply, “They don’t need to. They get each other.”

Later, the sun dipped low, casting warm gold across the cliffs. You and Tech sat side by side on your usual bench. No words. Just a datapad between you, exchanging quiet theories, occasionally pointing at the sea when a bird swooped or a current shifted strangely.

Tech finally broke the silence.

“Most people… expect something different from a relationship. More expression. More effort.”

You looked at him. “This is effort. Just a different kind.”

His lips curled slightly at the edge — his version of a full grin.

“I concur.”

After a moment, he added, “You are the first person I’ve encountered who does not require translation of my silence.”

You gave a small smile and leaned just enough to bump your shoulder against his. “And you’re the first person who doesn’t expect me to say things I don’t feel like saying out loud.”

He reached over and adjusted your sleeve where it had folded weirdly. Not romantic. Not flashy. Just… quietly right.

Behind you, somewhere near the beach, Omega was laughing, chasing a crab and antagonising Crosshair.

But here, in this quiet little corner of peace, you and Tech sat in absolute understanding.

No need to explain. No need to perform. Just existing.

Exactly as you were.

Exactly together.

[16wolke11]

The Echo of Us - Lando Norris

A/N This was requested by @miss-mastermind. Okay, I struggled so much with this and I am not even sure if I am happy with the outcome. Soo, if you really are unhappy with it, text me and we figure it out (:

WORDS: 691

INSPIRATION: us. - Gracie Abrams

Being in a relationship and slipping out of it again is normal, but it can still tear someone apart. Feeling the aching in my heart where once was just adoration and love needs time to adjust to and on some days, it feels like I never will get better. Days when I spot him on social media, when news broadcasters say his name or when I just can’t avoid being reminded of him. That damn cafe we used to visit, the sole mention of cinnamon rolls, the smell of his perfume.

It has been months, I should be over Lando by now, but still my heart aches when I think about him, while my mind just wishes to turn back time.

The worst day comes when Lando presents his new girlfriend. Looking picture perfect, no visible mistakes and everybody seems to love her. I watch her through the videos and pictures on social media. How she plays her little show with the camera, what wouldn't be so bad if there wasn’t one small detail. Lando’s eyes are always on her, like he loves to show her off. Nothing like it was when we were a thing.

When our relationship ended, I knew there was going to be damage and in the end, I was the one being crumbled into ruins. Our relationship, which once felt like it was woven by fate just for us, drifted into the never-ending question: What the hell was I doing?

Life seemed to be unbearable back then, days not livable anymore, but I had to move on. Trying to figure out my life being alone again, no set future anymore, but just dusty clouds of uncertainty. Not knowing when I will start a family, get married or even just move in with anyone again. With Lando, those things were kind of set, now they are in a future I can’t picture right now.

Sometimes I ask myself if Lando misses us. Misses how well we worked together. Misses the time we spend together. Misses the future we wanted to have for us. I wonder if wishes things went differently. Wonder if he would like to fix things if we had the chance. Wonder if he regrets the secret he made out of us.

The relationship felt like something old from the beginning. Something sturdy that isn’t something to be broken easily. Just like one of those old bookshelves that hold all those wonderful stories and last for more than just a short time. Our souls bled into each other, sealing us together and everyone thought that we were perfect for each other. But then everything changed and what seemed like fate burned into ashes by flames.

Being broken after the relationship made people feel like they had to cheer me up. Tell me I should give it a few weeks, a few months to get better. Someone told me that after the same amount of time I spend with Lando has passed, ten months, I will be past it. I wasn't.

Still thinking about that one particular night which burned itself into my memories, making my heart ache even more. The night Lando and I talked about the future, what we have planned, and he told me so many false things during it. Lando made them sound like the prettiest sonnets written by talented poets, lulling me in, but I couldn’t see behind those words. They were empty, they were lies, they were the things that broke me in the end.

Lando was the one breaking my heart, making me suffer and still I can’t be a hundred percent mad at him. It was easy between us, simple, but in the end, we aren’t a thing anymore. Still, in my head, Lando plus me is us.

I shouldn’t think about him, about his future, which should have been ours. I should focus on myself, on healing, moving on and stop looking back on the things we had. But in the end, I can’t stop myself from thinking about that picture-perfect future we had in mind.

And just sometimes, I still ask myself: Does Lando miss us?

[pallisia]

batch asks

i'm falling behind on all of the nice messages i've received since ch2 released. thank you so much, everyone. here are a bunch of responses on the shorter side (might be vague spoilers)

Anonymous asked:

Just finished ch2, cheering for ysme's woman wrongs and loic's ambiguously passive aggressive subdom my favorite parts are whenever loic closes his eyes and feels like he's summoning the emotion of that one ishowspeed expression

thank you. i don't know what that last bit means but okay

Anonymous asked:

(smiles serenely) absolutely sickening moment at the end. i dont regret signing the contract. great chapter

thank you. the contract remains in effect

Anonymous asked:

I don't think I can put my feelings of appreciation as elegantly as other, nor in pure excitement, but I can at least add to the pile of nice things: thank you for chapter 2 of soulsov! I greatly enjoyed it!

i don't need elegance, just good old-fashioned validation. thank you very much for the kind words.

@galaxywitch9 asked:

I've been looking forward to reading Chapter 2 today since you announced the release date; I finished reading it a little while ago and really enjoyed it. I love Ysme and Loic's new party member with all my heart, as well as the upsetting plot developments surrounding her. I don't know if he'll come up again later, but I loved Samson too; nervous big guys are a personal favorite of  mine 😌 Holding out hope for the possibility of some good things happening for Fel in the future 🥲

thank you very much. i'm glad you like samson. fel got a cool toy so she's probably fine.

Anonymous asked:

Tutu really quickly became an "if anything happens to her I will kill everyone in the room and then myself" character

well. don't do that

Anonymous asked:

Congratulations on the release! I unfortunately can’t read chapter 2 until my computer is repaired, but I’ve already heard so many good things that the wait is even harder. I can’t wait to see Loic and Ysme again.

thank you very much. i hope you enjoy when you get the chance.

@scottytiti asked:

wow you were Not fucking kidding when you made us sign the contract. but i'm a woman of my word. i'm under legal obligation. (defeatedly, voice quivering) i have no choice but to stan.......!!

you literally have to stan even if you cry

Anonymous asked:

does it count as too much of a spoilerish ask to say every soulsov got the transgender allegory

now let's hear your langlais headcanon

@tetrissyndromes asked:

THANK YOU !! 💌💌💌

thank you!!

@rainwvalker asked:

I just finished chapter 2 and... god, it's really good. I'll be chewing on it for a while. The prose and dialogue is delicious, and the layering of themes (that I'm only beginning to grasp) between different characters and their stories is really artfully done. Love, devotion, shame, and control... it's all really so juicy. And the ending..... well, I signed the contract :) Thank you for your work in making soulsov real! I will eagerly await future chapters.

thank you for the thoughtful praise. i hope you enjoy the rest of the story too.

@erismourn asked:

read ch2 last night (immediately after watching severance which was probably inadvisable lol) and it made me feel so Bad but in such a compelling way. it was so wonderful. i'm really loving the world you've created and the magic system and the lore. ysme makes me feel violent (positive). excellent work, so excited to see what comes next!!!

sometimes you just want a story where bad things happen. i hope soulsov makes you smile too, though. thank you for reading.

Anonymous asked:

Want to say I played chapter 2 and I love it! I like seeing another glimpse on how the setting has affected the characters! The more small shards i see about the world leaves me on edge and I can't wait to see what's in store!

thank you! there's a decent amount of background worldbuilding info that wasn't touched on in ch2...

@chefwhatnot asked:

I have finished chapter 2 of soulsov, and i only have one question: what the fuck (Excellent work! Writing and art and text pacing were all fantastic! I feel even more invested in this story than i already was!)

smiling nicely. thank you

Anonymous asked:

(smiling through the tears) chapter 2 was incredible. thank you so much

yeah! this is the stuff. thank you for reading.

Anonymous asked:

sat on the prelude for a year (forgive me) but read it and chapter two today. I am smitten, as I knew I would be. thank u for supporting trans wrongs.

thanks for taking the time.

@podplease asked:

Girlfriend and I are having a wonderful time reading through chapter 2. All the characters are so alive? I dunno if that makes sense I just really like the way you write dialogue

thanks a lot. dialogue is what i feel most confident writing, so i'm always happy to hear that.

Anonymous asked:

hi i'm sure you've gotten dozens of messages like this but i just wanted to say soulsov chapter 2 is really really good!! i don't have anything super insightful to say, i'm just a huge fan of the writing and the characters and the world and everything. chapter 1 already had me very interested but now i am on the edge of my seat! i can't wait to watch the evil woman do more bad things to people who don't deserve it, it's my favorite hobby

thank you very much. who says loic and tutu don't deserve it. maybe they have bad vibes

Anonymous asked:

Loic pranking Ysme knowing full well that he's at her mercy was so good! THANK YOU

one must imagine sisyphus getting a little silly with it in a subdued power struggle sort of way

Anonymous asked:

hey that BIG invocation this chapter made me burst into ugly tears! oh my god. oh my god loic. oh my god spoiler character. i wish i could hug them both!

thank you very much 😊

Anonymous asked:

My god, you actually implemented a fishing minigame.

"fishing minigames" are passe, i know, but the fishing scene was planned for years and years and i couldn't resist having a little giggle. it won't happen again officer

Anonymous asked:

is sammy single

please hold on to this thought