#plotting database

[just-a-local-dreamer]

Notion writing template!!

This bad boy got a serious update (aesthetic and functional)

The worldbuilding databases are now expanded to cover more ground, esp in developing countries, governments, and histories.

Character profiles are more intuitive and less of the checklist style

Added a tutorial for the plotting hub

Added some buttons for convenience

You can check it out here

[anjanahalo]

Wayne Vs Fenton 3

start of the madness

pls note I'm putting these numbers in as "what I have written." They're not gonna necessarily be in order. I hope to make a full fic to put on AO3. In the interim, here's stuff I wrote in general as it strikes me in the moment. This bit is from Tim's perspective after Damian and Danny Are Friends become a known quantity in the Wayne household. ~*~

Damian making friends didn’t make sense. Everyone else felt complacent in simply accepting it. Tim wasn’t. Considering his upbringing, autonomous socializing wasn’t part of Damian’s personality. Nor was how calm and patient the former assassin child became with all of his siblings, Tim included. Damian himself insisted he and this “Danny” were friends. Hell, Damian even called the kid by a nickname. Not his last name, not “Daniel.” His actual, preferred nickname. Tim was suspicious and instantly began investigating. Daniel “Danny” Fenton, age 15, moved to Gotham two months ago from Amity Park, Illinois with his godfather and temporary guardian, Vlad Masters, former mayor of Amity Park, head of Vladco Industries, and heir to Wisconsin’s Self Proclaimed Dairy King’s fortune. Child of Jack and Madeline Fenton, doctors of something called ectobiology, former college classmates of Vlad Masters, and founders of FentonWorks, a cottage research facility that developed antighost (Ghosts? Really?) weaponry and equipment. Brother of Jasmine Fenton, currently a student of Yale in their psychology undergraduate program, and already a shoe-in for the Dean’s list. Honestly, of all the people related to him, Danny ended up being the least interesting. Middling grades that dropped in high school along with attendance. That was probably what led to his coming to Gotham. A set of brilliant - if evidentially weird - parents and a rich and involved godfather doing what they could to help their faltering son to succeed by sending him to one of the top schools on the east coast. There was evidence that Amity Park itself had some apparently minor meta vigilante protecting it, but searches for “Phantom” turned up nothing in the Justice League’s database, suggesting whomever this was might be an actual ghost like Deadman and, thus, restricted to access by those with JLD clearance. Tim put aside that issue for later. He could just ask B for privileges later. Besides, the only information he found on this vigilante was on a few amateur fansites and local papers. No major news sites or government listings. It couldn’t be anything major. His focus remained on Daniel Fenton. Except, even when looking into the kid’s socials, there wasn’t anything interesting. He had a couple friends back in Amity, the most interesting of the two was Samantha Mason of the Mason family, though Tim already knew of her from various socialite dinners she looked ready to burn to the ground, pink and lacey dress or not. Her social media was full of activism, conservation movements, and calls for both veganism and something called ultra recycle vegetarianism. Tucker came from an average family of upper middle class parents, nothing odd there, though his social media showed his love of technology and ancient Egypt. Nothing strange there. Danny’s social media, besides his friends, included links to Nasa, occasional rambles about high school life, and, for some reason, a dog photoshopped to look green. From the replies of his few followers, it was an inside joke since they all cooed over the dog and didn’t comment on the green. Again, nothing strange. Even the one time he managed to hack into Damian’s phone to see his messages yielded nothing. He and Danny would meet for what Danny called “playdates.” For some reason, Damian played along with a name Tim knew he’d scoff as childish and beneath him. Even that would be innocuous. One or the other would suggest meeting at various parks, arcades, even the observatory, negotiating dates and times, and that was it.

Danny was a normal kid. Damian was a born and bred assassin. Why in the actual fuck were these two friends? Nothing made sense. Everyone else was happy to ignore it because of the peace the irrationality before them instilled. Tim wouldn’t become complacent. Whatever Danny was hiding, he’d find it.

[mrsthunderkin]

AS400 would never treat me like this

[teecupangel]

I saw this amazing idea from another fandom that could be used to keep Desmond alive: his ghost possessing his own body. Not only that but whenever ghost! Desmond gets out of his body it becomes zombie! Desmond so there's two Desmond's sharing a body while trying to live(heh) in the modern time.

Oohhh, this sounds interesting.

Does this mean that Desmond’s body starts to decompose when he’s not in his body?

Or would that be too much and we��ll just let zombie!Desmond act as a usual zombie, looking for ‘food’.

Now, there should be a reason why Desmond would willingly (or unwillingly) stay out of his body. It could be that there is a limitation placed on the possession itself and Desmond could only stay for around half a day and the other half has to be him floating around as a ghost. He learns of this because the first time he returned to his body, he tried to stay there as long as he could and he’s just yanked out of the body after exactly 12 hours.

Of course, the first time this happens, he was still imprisoned in an Abstergo facility and… well… zombie!Desmond definitely had a lot of preys to eat then.

… does this mean that Desmond could accidentally start a zombie apocalypse.

Thankfully, the moment zombie!Desmond started attacking people, the entire facility went on lockdown and dropped heavy roll up covers for all entrances and exits, including windows.

This did mean that everyone is stuck inside with a growing zombie horde courtesy of zombie!Desmond.

And ghost!Desmond is just floating nearby, freaking out because he knows how this is played.

He does not want to be patient zero!

He tries to get back to zombie!Desmond but he’s pulled away each time, only able to take control for maybe 3 to 5 minutes.

Until…

12 hours passed and Desmond finally takes control.

As every single zombie turned to face him.

Because he no longer registers as one of them.

No.

He registered as ‘prey’.

And Desmond slips out of his body voluntarily this time, letting zombie!Desmond take control before the other zombies attack him.

And now…

He has to think of a way…

To kill every zombies here in approximately 12 hours… without the zombies attacking him and before Abstergo remotely opens the roll up covers to find out what has happened.

.

Berg and Sigma team enters the building from above later on.

They had lost contact with the facility 25 hours ago, the last transmission they received was an automatic message from the facility’s security system summarizing that the lockdown was due to an unknown highly volatile virus of unknown origins.

The security system cut off all connection to the outside world per protocol (a protocol that become the norm after an unknown hacker that has no connection to Erudito hacked a different facility and used the connection to send out different viruses to other facilities, many classified information were destroyed during the attack, including data about known Isus and Sages). Protocol states they wait 24 hours for any communications from the people in the facility or the security system before trying to breach the facility.

There was nothing.

And when they got there…

The security system had been destroyed together with all the recordings in the facility and its own black box.

And the entire place…

… was nothing more than a place of death.

No one survived.

There were signs that they had killed one another.

No.

They tried to eat each other.

Was this…

The ‘virus’ that the security system had pinged?

They could not be sure.

All they knew was…

The underground parking lot’s cover was not locked.

A person could lift it up and slip out before it fell back down.

So they had to make sure…

… to account for every single person.

Because if this was a real virus that can do such a thing…

They were looking for a potential carrier.

“Sir. Sofia Rikkin is in line 1.”

Berg nodded at the man to his right before he clicked a button on the portable radio connected to his earpiece, “This is Berg.”

“Is this right, Berg? You counted 80 bodies?”

That did not sound good. Sofia Rikkin was usually calm and a bit cold but she sounded like she was ready to tear Berg’s throat out if he said the wrong thing.

“We’re recounting the bodies but, yes. Our initial and second counting both-”

“There should be 81 bodies, Berg.”

Berg looked at the tablet in his other hand, “The list of personnel in this facility when it went on lockdown says eigh-”

“Because it’s not a personnel.”

He really wished she’d stop cutting him off.

But it was more important to hear what she was saying right now.

“Berg. The 81st body is the 2nd attempt to create an Isu body. A lot of data were destroyed during the attack years back so we used Sample 17 to plug the missing links.”

“Are you saying the possibly missing 81st body is Desmond Miles?”

“… possibly. Find that body, Berg. There haven’t been any tests done to that body yet so we don’t know what it can do. For all we know…”

“… it could be the original carrier of this unknown virus.”

[jamiethebeeart]

⊂⁠(^‿^)⁠つ⊂⁠(⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠*⁠⊂⁠)

[isntthisblank]

No, that 8-year-old regular human child would NOT be a self taught master hacker who can hack into 1) The Government ™️ or 2) The security program of an adult whose LITERAL SUPERPOWER is INTELLIGENCE. No, that 8-year-old regular human child would ALSO NOT beat SUPER POWERED ADULTS who have been training their craft OVER A DECADE in a fight.

[darkaac]

Fin.

[wisponed]

did you really think this is the right thing to do ?

SEND ME MEMES !

"are we having a discussion about morality or are you just trying to get in my way?" scratch doesn't look to shadow as she cleans her wispon with an oil rag, going over the same spot across the wisp port for the third time. it's not that shadow intimidates her, more that she thinks his look might force her to reconsider, reflect, recontextualize, think.

scratch is so tired of thinking.

she can't remember the last time her body hasn't felt like a taut wire, tension making her feel like something brittle. hit it once it won't break. twice? maybe it'll survive, fault lines holding together like a kind of belated prayer. three times...?

if she's going to break in front of someone, it certainly won't be shadow.

the ivory lightning wisp swoops over to her, hovering at her elbow, its glare expectant. she's gotten used to calling it blitz, a name it seems to accept if not outright enjoy. blitz isn't hers, not a pet to be toted around or a simple weapon to use, but it is the closest thing she has to a friend she has. scratch may not have a fancy miles electric to translate the language, but she and blitz have been working together long enough to understand one another. the robotnik base is clear. time to head inside.

scratch tucks the rag into the back pocket of her pants, double checking the grappling line on her wispon. when she finally does look up to shadow, yellow eyes meeting red, her gaze is hard. blitz bobs up to float near her shoulder, staring shadow down in tandem. even if blitz doesn't condone scratch's hunger for revenge, she knows she can count on it to back her up in any argument.

"you gonna force me into a socratic, or can i get my night started?"

[amatres]

shae being the second highest character of all of them in that long personality quiz for gwynn is very fun for me.

[elumish]

I feel like I should clarify: this is specifically for a filtering system in a book database (think: AO3 tags). It's for narrowing down/finding books you might be interested in.

As I continue to build out my more user friendly version of my database, this will help me figure out what to prioritize.

[lukosei]

Rewatching death note after TEN YEARS with some friends and we are horribly susceptible to theorizing animation student au headcanons for like every piece of media that has our attention so here’s their meet the artists with some stats :3 ridiculously self-indulgent + catered to our own personal experiences of being in cartoon school. How fleshed out is this??? Not very. But it’s fun (tried drawing them kinda sorta how they’d maybe draw if they were actually like people) (I’d love to put the music they listen to and movies they like but tbh idk light especially does not strike me as someone who listens to music for fun so they’re a bit minimal). Also thing to note I know the personality-database site says light is an entj instead of i which while it makes sense we motioned that he’s a bit more meticulous and while of course he can do social situations he doesn’t seek them out per se nor get fulfilment from them BUT BOTH TYPES ARE STILL GOOD

Now you may be asking how does the actual plot of death note translate into this. Well you see they are in their 3rd year ryuk is light’s goth alt roommate who shows him this cool site called twitter dot com and light IMMEDIATELY starts anonymously cyberbullying people notably school peers and it gets so bad the faculty has to get involved and they also need to bring in this mysterious transfer student from England who gets put into the same 3rd year film group as light to further investigate suspicions and also has a twitter handle/acc that has been actively challenging light’s + has like a gazillion followers. Also yeah they fall in love and stuff

[wilwheaton]

DOGE is not about efficiency. It is about erasure. Democracy is being deleted in slow motion, replaced by proprietary technology and AI models. It is a coup, executed not with guns, but with backend migrations and database wipes.

The Plot Against America - by Mike Brock

[echoekhi]

I’m Declaring War Against “What If” Videos: Project Copy-Knight

What Are “What If” Videos?

These videos follow a common recipe: A narrator, given a fandom (usually anime ones like My Hero Academia and Naruto), explores an alternative timeline where something is different. Maybe the main character has extra powers, maybe a key plot point goes differently. They then go on and make up a whole new story, detailing the conflicts and romance between characters, much like an ordinary fanfic.

Except, they are fanfics. Actual fanfics, pulled off AO3, FFN and Wattpad, given a different title, with random thumbnail and background images added to them, narrated by computer text-to-speech synthesizers.

They are very easy to make: pick a fanfic, copy all the text into a text-to-speech generator, mix the resulting audio file with some generic art from the fandom as the background, give it a snappy title like “What if Deku had the Power of Ten Rings”, photoshop an attention-grabbing thumbnail, dump it onto YouTube and get thousands of views.

In fact, the process is so straightforward and requires so little effort, it’s pretty clear some of these channels have automated pipelines to pump these out en-masse. They don’t bother with asking the fic authors for permission. Sometimes they don’t even bother with putting the fic’s link in the description or crediting the author. These content-farms then monetise these videos, so they get a cut from YouTube’s ads.

In short, an industry has emerged from the systematic copyright theft of fanfiction, for profit.

Project Copy-Knight

Since the adversaries almost certainly have automated systems set up for this, the only realistic countermeasure is with another automated system. Identifying fanfics manually by listening to the videos and searching them up with tags is just too slow and impractical.

And so, I came up with a simple automated pipeline to identify the original authors of “What If” videos.

It would go download these videos, run speech recognition on it, search the text through a database full of AO3 fics, and identify which work it came from. After manual confirmation, the original authors will be notified that their works have been subject to copyright theft, and instructions provided on how to DMCA-strike the channel out of existence.

I built a prototype over the weekend, and it works surprisingly well:

On a randomly-selected YouTube channel (in this case Infinite Paradox Fanfic), the toolchain was able to identify the origin of half of the content. The raw output, after manual verification, turned out to be extremely accurate. The time taken to identify the source of a video was about 5 minutes, most of those were spent running Whisper, and the actual full-text-search query and Levenshtein analysis was less than 5 seconds.

The other videos probably came from fanfiction websites other than AO3, like fanfiction.net or Wattpad. As I do not have access to archives of those websites, I cannot identify the other ones, but they are almost certainly not original.

Armed with this fantastic proof-of-concept, I’m officially declaring war against “What If” videos. The mission statement of Project Copy-Knight will be the elimination of “What If” videos based on the theft of AO3 content on YouTube.

I Need Your Help

I am acutely aware that I cannot accomplish this on my own. There are many moving parts in this system that simply cannot be completely automated – like the selection of YouTube channels to feed into the toolchain, the manual verification step to prevent false-positives being sent to authors, the reaching-out to authors who have comments disabled, etc, etc.

So, if you are interested in helping to defend fanworks, or just want to have a chat or ask about the technical details of the toolchain, please consider joining my Discord server. I could really use your help.

------

See full blog article and acknowledgements here: https://echoekhi.com/2023/11/25/project-copy-knight/

[dollerinna]

WOULD YOU LIKE AN ALMOND JOY .ᐣ

( black noir x gn!crime analyst reader )

summary: after a long day of work, you try to unwind by watching your comfort show, but your solitude is interrupted by yet another visit from noir, who seems to be finding more and more excuses to spend time with you… (includes a C.AI bot as part 2 below!)

wordcount: 2k

tags: brief mention of NSFW pop-up ads, nerdy n’ socially awkward reader, noir’s disdain for almond joys but he makes up for it at the end <3

It had been a long day at the crime analytics office in Vought. As the sun began to set, exhaustion crept over you after reviewing incident report after report. Your eyes strained from the blue glare of your computer screen. You knew you had promised your boss you would organize the ever-growing database, but the tiny voice of procrastination was pleading for rest before your overworked brain turned into a pile of mush.

Rather than more paperwork—you, being the slacker of all slackers in this department, decided a well-deserved break was in order. And what better way to recharge than turning off the noggin and filling it with good ol’ fashioned mindless entertainment?

With a few tired clicks of your mouse, you booted up your go-to streaming site, which was none other than 123movies. Scrolling through the options, your cursor hovered over the play button of your favorite trashy drama. The kind of cheesy, perfectly predictable melodrama spun from the worst of amateur YA plots. It was practically comfort food for your fatigued mind, just what you needed to loosen up after the mental marathon that was this long day.

As the opening credits began to roll, your computer began to whir and hiss like an overtaxed engine, emitting gusts of unusually hot air from the vents. Suddenly, its screen slowed to a sluggish crawl, cluttered with a barrage of not-so-savory pop-up ads. Barely a minute in, the pixels already scrambled to form images better to left unseen—half naked women in risqué yet tacky mermaid-like attire, claiming they were ‘just around the corner and ready for a good aquatic fuck.’

First of all, what the absolute living hell is an “aquatic fuck”??

Did you even want to know? And most importantly, what happened to the ad blocker you installed just the other day? Judging by the contents, you had a sneaking suspicion that slimy, sea-dwelling degenerate, The Deep, had tampered with your computer… yet again.

“For the love of-… what’s with all these pop-up ads?” you muttered under your breath as excessively explicit ads crowded out the episode. Your eyes darted furtively around the room to check for wandering glances, hoping against hope that none of your coworkers had noticed the unwanted filth invading your screen. Heart pounding, you squeezed your chair closer to your monitor into a makeshift barricade, shielding the display as best you could while hastily clicking away at the intrusive ads.

As you hurriedly closed the remaining windows, an ominous shadow fell across the screen. Dreading what—or who—might be behind you, you slowly swiveled your chair around to find Black Noir's stoic stare boring into your own.

You stifled a yelp as you instinctively clutched the armrests, catching yourself on the edge of your seat before an ungainly spill to the floor. Noir had a way of materializing without warning, and it never failed to unnerve.

“N-Noir!” you managed, inwardly cringing as your voice broke on his name. “Fancy seeing you in these parts. I was just taking a quick break and y’know- stretching ‘em brain cells.” You tried for a lighthearted chuckle, but it emerged as more of a strained squeak that faded into an anxious hum.

With a jerky flurry of clicks and the browser minimized from view, whatever dignity you still retained disappearing along with it. All that did remain was you praying to the heavens above that he hadn't noticed its questionable contents (even if he most definitely had and simply chose not to comment)

When Noir offered no response, you of course charmingly barreled ahead in your frazzled daze. “But anyways, s-sorry about that… how uh, can I help you today?” your words tumbled out in a breathless rush, punctuated by a shrill laugh you hoped disguised the mortification simmering beneath.

Noir cocked his head, observing you with that same silent intensity. You fidgeted, hands twisting in knotted discomfort, the heat in your ears now engulfing your entire face. Was it the invasive pop-ups that had you squirming in your seat? Or the fact he could snuff out your existence faster than you can say “workers’ comp”?

Either way, beneath the weight of his stare, you already felt as if you were some peculiar, freakish creature pinned for study, rather than some bumbling employee just trying to unwind and watch their comfort show.

And to him, you indeed were a fascinating, bizarre little human.

Mercifully, Noir chose to extend a folder toward you, putting an end to your somewhat pathetic withering. You accepted it with a wordless nod, nearly sagging in your chair as tension drained from your shoulders.

Whirling towards the familiar clutter of your desk once more, you pretended absorption in the folder’s material, hoping this signaled Noir’s leave. After all, has anyone seen the state of you? It certainly wasn’t a flattering one. Yet from the corner of your eye, you detected no movement, no receding footsteps—his shadowy form remained statuesquely in place.

Believe it or not, this has been becoming a thing, a growing habit of late—and a suspicious one at that. Lately his breaks had grown longer, minutes lengthening to quarters of an hour, all spent hovering at your desk as you worked. However, his focus was solely on watching and observing you. He never exhibited a hint of thought or motive for his reason there, only leaving you with questions that seemed to multiply by each and every visit.

Noir, on the other hand, was somehow utterly convinced that you and him were two peas in a tightly-knit pod. He swore you two were best of buds for life—even if "life" so far had only amounted to the past two weeks' worth of half-hour stretches where he silently observed your work from the corner.

Ironically, you didn’t have the slightest inkling of how he really felt. Instead, you always assumed that he, like most supes, regarded you as little more than a puny mortal—a fragile, near-useless sack of flesh and bones whose skull he was one misstep away from caving in with bare hands.

But nope, Noir was simply here to bless you, the nerdy but cute crime analyst, with his presence—his rather… unsettling presence.

The familiar hush settled as you reluctantly returned focus to the task at hand. Hocus-pocus-focus, you chanted mentally, peeling away the last shreds of stray thoughts to tap into the zone of productivity. Unfurling the dossier Noir provided, you began sifting through documents for insight on his purpose in approaching you. Meanwhile, a flick of movement in the edge of your vision revealed Noir's attention veer off course, the almond joy perched beside your keyboard capturing his notice.

You tensed, hocus-pocus-focus breaking, all too aware of past disappearances of snacks in these briefings. Sure enough, his hand drifted noiselessly toward the candy bar, no doubt spurred by ingrained impulse to dispose of it per his usual custom. But you'd grown wise to his methods by now.

Not again, you sighed inwardly, snatching the almond joy and cradling it protectively as if it were your dear, beloved child.

Noir made no move to withdraw, palm outstretched expectantly. You frowned, struggling to keep frustration at bay. "Please, come on- not this time!.. It's my last one for the day." Brows pinching, your tone threatened to rise before steadying with a slow and calm inhale. No use losing composure over candy, no matter the principle. So all you could do was peer beseechingly at Noir in silent appeal, legs jittering restlessly under your desk in building apprehension.

Unfortunately, you found no signs of leniency in his obscured face—only his hand beckoning relentlessly for the almond joy. You plea was once again met with stony resolve, as if he was internally distressed by the mere presence of it. What was he? Deathly allergic to almond joys or something?

With a resigned breath, you delivered the almond joy towards Noir's waiting glove, unable to hide the disappointment dimming your features. Your lips curled into a slight pout, gaze sinking heavy into your lap at being parted from the treat. Though Noir was never one for words, it really didn’t take a rocket scientist to see you felt bullied into submission by his demands. At the end of the day, what power did a measly analyst like yourself hold against one of the Seven? As your fingers uncurled, releasing the candy into Noir's grasp, you couldn't help but feel a bit put upon, even if that wasn’t his intention at all.

Noir was well aware of the upset feelings his request had caused, so in an attempt to remedy the situation, his arm was sent in a backwards reach for the notepad he often used to communicate. However, he found himself at a loss as words eluded him, his thoughts swirling in frustrating circles of “What should I even say?”—muddled and incoherent. For a moment he stared at you, mask betraying no emotion as he grappled to find the right words, despite the prick of guilt nibbling at his conscience. Then, lacking any better option, he simply tossed the offending candy into the trash, perhaps with more force than intended.

Clearly, socializing was not Noir’s strong suit.

With no further acknowledgment, Noir spun on his heel and marched away. You watched his retreating, rigid form with discomfort clenching your insides, eyes falling onto the lonely candy discarded in the trash, its colorful wrapper mocking your current disheartened state.

Wearily, you turned away from the almond joy, redirecting your attention toward the computer as a means to divert your now soured mood. Maximizing the browser, you hoped that your planned show may have had time to load during the interaction. But upon inspecting the screen, you found the video remained stubbornly stalled, stuck on buffering dots and refusing to roll despite the minutes passed.

Just. Peachy.

One (super)human encounter had sucked the very life source out of your dog-tired body, and now this. It was really shaping up to be one of those days.

Thoroughly worn out, you gently laid your head down onto the desk, pillowing it against the crook of your folded arms as eyelids slid shut. All you craved was to simply sleep away the remaining time until you could finally escape this wretched shift and retreat to the sanctuary of your home sweet home.

─────────────────

As your shift wound down to its end, you were finally stirring from your slumber. Rubbing the sleep from your bleary eyes, your blurred vision sharpened to show your colleagues had long since departed while you were snoozing away.

Rising and squaring your shoulders, you began to gather your belongings in preparation to leave as well. Once you had collected everything and lifted to your feet, something in the far corner of your desk caught your eye. Approaching for a closer look in the dim lighting, the fuzzy outline gradually came into focus—a cluttered collection of Hershey's Kisses, their jumbled placement grouped to form the shape of a heart.

You blinked in bewilderment, rubbing your eyes once more to ensure you weren't imagining things. Stepping closer, you spotted a sticky note nestled within the heart of chocolates, scrawled upon in a crude, blocky hand. At first, you assumed it was some silly prank from one of your coworkers, but you knew you recognized the handwriting anywhere—it was Noir's.

Gingerly, you plucked the sticky note from the desk, lifting it to your line of sight to read the message. “Kisses taste better than almond joys…Sorry.” you read softly, your voice trailing off as confusion crept in.

Designed as a very apparent flirty gesture, the intent behind the note and chocolates still managed to whoosh straight over your head. As always seemed the case, even the most painfully obvious social cues could so easily evade your understanding—this proving no exception.

You slipped the sticky note into your pocket, then selected a foil-wrapped Kiss from the pile. Gently rolling the chocolate between your fingers, you unwrapped it and popped one into your mouth. You took time to savor its light cream filling beneath a smooth outer shell, face crinkling in thought and head tilting as you considered your verdict. “Eh… I’d beg to differ.” you mused with a shrug, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you took your leave from the office.

-------☆-------

Pssst- likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated in this household and keep me motivated! <3

-------☆-------

a C.AI bot as your very own part 2 where you thank Noir the following day:

a/n: saw somewhere that kisses don’t contain nuts but then I also saw someone else say they actually do??? So let’s just pretend the kisses Noir chose are completely nut-free for the sake of the plot 😭

also, the reader is very much based off Anika if it wasn’t obvious enough haha! She’s so y/n coded 😤💗

♡ divider credits: @/ianrkives

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Early Morning

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> Bucky helps you after a nightmare.

Disclaimer: Mostly smut with plot. MDNI 18+. Fluff, a little angst, Reader is an ex winter soldier experiment, too. Flashbacks to reader meeting Bucky (not the WS). Swearing, unprotected P-in-V (wrap it up), established relationship, caring Bucky, mentions of nightmares, Bucky holds/cuddles reader. Not proof read. Again, 18+.

Your breathing laboured, you shot up in bed. 

There was next to no light inside the room, but you could still make out the pile of clothes thrown over the back of your desk chair wasn’t a monster haunting your room. 

Then you felt a hand at the bottom of your back. For a moment, you jumped before you realised who the hand belonged to. 

“You okay?”

You scrubbed your face and nodded. Then he slowly sat up with you. His hands rubbing your back before his lips tiredly kissed your shoulders. He leaned against you, his cheek pressing his lingering kiss deeper into your skin. 

“Talk to me. What happened?”

“Can’t sleep.”

“Nightmare?”

You could only nod. 

“Tell me?”

“Same as usual.” 

Your voice came out quiet, an invisible heavy weight pushing your shoulders down. 

You’d been found by Bucky and Sam almost five years ago. Having been one of the last people to be put through a Winter Soldier, you were one of the few to survive. And you’d been surviving alone until that day in the abandoned factory. 

From there, you had been put through some more trials. From being locked up in a ‘comfortable’ cell, realising just who Bucky was and when you’d met him before to going through new training that meant you were becoming a new Shield Agent. 

And somewhere in the last five years, you and Bucky had found common ground and eventually a friendship that had bloomed into something more. 

“Come here.” 

Rubbing one of his hands up and down your back, he gently led you to lie back down beside him. He held you close to him, his grip tightening around you. You felt his legs slot and tangle between yours before his lips pressed against your head. 

With his hand skating across your thigh, he pulled you over his hip before letting his fingers push under the back of your top to let his fingers trace up and down your spine. 

Within seconds, your senses were consumed by him. 

Bucky felt you take in a deep breath before you finally relaxed in his arms. 

“Feeling better?”

You nodded with a little hum. “‘Little.”

Bucky just held you tighter. 

By the time you woke back up again, your position hadn’t changed much save for the fact that your back was now against Bucky’s chest. 

You could feel his breath, even and soft against your back, calming you even more. 

There have been times where you’d let your mind wander. What if you had met Bucky, as he was now, under different circumstances? Maybe you’d gone to MIT, or Harvard or one of those places before joining Shield. Maybe you would have bumped into him in the lunch line, or in the hallway. Maybe he would have asked you on a date, or maybe you would have asked it. 

Maybe it would have been conventional. 

Unlike how you’d come to meet this version of Bucky. 

“Do you think she remembers you?”

You just stared at the ceiling inside the cell you’d been placed in. They’d given you a mattress and blankets for the slick metal bed, but you’d pulled them to the ground before you laid down, letting the cold metal cool you down. 

Sam and Bucky had been standing on the other side of the reflective glass, talking to each other. They were yet to know you could hear every word they were saying despite the speakers being disconnected. 

“Sargent Jame Buchannan Barnes of the 107th.”  You’d said his name slowly, almost repeating it as if you’d been saying it your entire life. 

Eventually, Sam left once you gave them your name. As he went to search through every database he could think of, Bucky stayed and turned the reflective screen off. You’d walked over calmly, answering every question he had. 

Did you remember him? 

“I remember you from…before.”

Where did you come from?

“Winter Soldier programme. I woke up somewhere in Europe. I just kept walking until I recognised a name.”

And where did you come from…before?

You told him everything he wanted to know. You’d spent so long keeping secrets, seeing where the world was going…

Anything was better than being sent back into the Winter Soldier programme. And if Bucky could get out, then so could you. 

After going through more tests than you could count, having more needles pricked into your skin than you’d like, and after extensive psych-evals from multiple different professionals, you were cleared to work. 

Under strict supervision. 

And that came from both Shield and Bucky. He’d been in the programme himself, so he knew what to look for when things got bad. For a few of the appointments where he’d watched through the glass, seeing the hidden pain on your face as the fortieth test was done on your blood, he entered the room and held onto your hand. 

During training hours when he could see the memories flooding back when you pushed yourself a little too far, he would tap you out and make you walk around the building with him. He never had to say anything. Just knowing someone was there was enough for you. 

Eventually, those silent moments added up to small and trusting conversations. Then one day, things began to change. You talked more, felt happier more often, found not only friends but family. 

“How’d you sleep?”

Slowly, you turned over and looked at Bucky. 

“Better.”

You felt Bucky’s lift softly brush a kiss over your nose before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips. He felt your hand cup his cheek, keeping his lips kissing yours for a little longer. 

“I love you.”

Bucky smiled, kissing you again. “I love you, too.”

Leaning back in again, he pressed a soft kiss onto your lips. But you didn’t want it to end. There was just something about Bucky’s kiss. The way his lips pressed against yours, as if he’d been kissing you his entire life. 

And it had been that way since the first time he kissed you. 

You’d both spent the entire day in the training room since it had been the first place Kate had looked for both of you to help train the new recruits from Shield. The last time she’d asked you both for help, you were both left stranded and swore an oath to each other that you’d never do it again. 

So, rather than run around the entire compound all day, you remained in the one place Kate wouldn’t look again. 

But instead of pushing yourselves to the limits, you both had fun. 

Sparring with each other, you both laughed. Falling to the ground, talking, laughing, reminiscing, planning. You often spent time like that, together. But you both never got a chance to simply have fun. 

But it was as you were lying underneath him, wondering what would happen if you pulled at his dog tags in those moments and finally answered your year long question; what would it feel like if he kissed you?

The door just outside of the training room creaked open. 

Scampering to your feet, Bucky grabbed your hand and you both raced out of the back exit. 

However, as you heard the doors creak again, you pulled Bucky around a corner. And once everything fell silent, only then did you both realise the position you were in. His knee wedged between your legs, his hands caging you in by your hips and your hands fisting his t-shirt. 

Between hitched breaths and pounding hearts, Bucky kissed you. 

Neither of you had expected it and when the kiss broke in order for both of you to catch your breath, it was safe to say you were both surprised. 

But as the shock faded away, being replaced by a desperate desire to feel his kiss on your lips again, his hands became tousled in your hair as you pulled him closer by his dog tags. 

“Holy fuck,” Bucky breathed before he moved to kiss you again. 

And that’s what it was still like. 

Bucky’s hands ghosted down your body before pulling your leg over his hip. Surprising him, you pushed yourself up until you were straddling his thighs. Like he’d done a thousand times before, he pulled your top from your body and over your head before throwing it across the room. His hands held you closer, feeling your skin against his chest. 

Feeling his bulge grow beneath you, you rocked your hips over him. His grip on you tightened as he groaned. 

“Holy fuck,” his voice was gravelly as he moved his lips from yours to the softness of your neck. “Baby-”

With his fingers squeezing your flesh softly, his hand moved from under your ass to the front of your body before dipping under the waistband of your shorts. 

“So wet already-” 

His teeth scraped lightly at your pulse point, no doubt eventually leaving a hickey you’d find in a few hours. 

A moan became muffled against his lips as you bucked your hips against his hand. Then his fingers began to steadily circle your clit. 

You gasped. “Keep - keep going.” You closed your eyes as you leaned your head against his. “Fuck.”

“Always,” Bucky nipped at your jaw. “So,” nip. “Ready,” nip. “For me.”

You gasped again, and Bucky smiled as he watched the shock and pleasure take over your body and face as he inserted two fingers, curling them inside of you. 

“You look so fucking hot like this,” Bucky slurred as he watched you. 

It wasn’t long until your own fingers drifted down his front, palming his dick through the cloth of his underwear until finally letting him free from the restriction. 

By the time the tip of his cock was strumming through your juices, your legs had already begun to shake. 

“Bucky, please.”

“Always so polite,” Bucky teased before once again watching your face as you took him in. 

You felt your back arch as his cock stretched you and his hand pushed up your front. His thumb flicking at your nipple before he took you into his mouth for a moment, you moaned his name. 

“So fucking hot…”

Having been the Winter Soldier, Bucky could never get drunk. But he was drunk on you. 

“Fuck, doll.” Bucky moaned into your neck as his hand squeezed at your ass, holding you down on him. “‘Feels so fucking..good…fuck.”

Teasing him a little, you began drawing lazy circles with your hips. Your shared breath became ragged as your skin took on a light sheen just as Bucky’s tongue traces lines across your collarbone. 

Finding your weak spot, he began to suck. 

He could feel your hand in his hair, your nails raking on his scalp. 

Eventually the noises went from sensual to down right animalistic. Begging and pleading before finally, with his fingers applying a delicious pressure onto your clit, Bucky felt your walls tighten around his cock as he helped you ride out your orgasm. 

Breathless, you felt yourself smile as you leaned down towards his ear. “I want you to cum inside of me.”

“Baby-”

“Please, Buck.”

He didn’t need to be asked again. With his fingers teasing your overstimulated clit, you felt Bucky finally cum inside of you. It wasn’t often you had him go without protection, so it was rare you ever got to feel him. 

A shower and two hours later, you were both sitting eating breakfast at the table in the kitchen. “You wanna talk about last night?”

You shrugged, pushing the blueberries around on your plate. “Not much has changed. Still trapped inside my own body, still hurting people.”

“How long has it been since the last one?”

One thing about your nightmares was that it was rare to become a night terror. You didn’t exactly wake up screaming and panting for breath. But sometimes, the silent ones were the worst kind. Because they continued to play on your mind. So vivid and so real.  

“Couple of months,” you told him, truthfully. 

“Sam text this morning. Said he’s gonna come round later. Apparently he wants to test Red Wing’s new features out on the back fields.”

“And you said yes?” You asked, hiding your smile. You knew your boyfriend’s reputation with Red Wing. They weren’t exactly the best of friends. 

“I think maybe you should talk with Sam.”

You nodded. “I will.”

You’d been given qualified doctors over the years and a lot of them had helped. But sometimes the best person to talk to was someone who knew what you were going through. And, as much as Bucky knew what you were going through; the one person who helped get through to him was Sam. 

Bucky watched you for a few moments before he reached over and hooked his hand under the edge of your chair. “Come here,” he said as he pulled you closer. 

You could feel yourself blush with a little giddiness as he pulled you closer to him across the table before his hand rested on your bare thigh. 

Then he kissed you. 

“I love you,” he told you. 

“I love you, too,” you replied. 

[botanicalsword]

How they approach you ✧ Check their Mars Sign

Mars symbolizes our energy, desires, and pursuit methods. It's associated with our passion, sex drive, and how we chase what we need. In relationships, Mars plays a significant role. It's about how we express our desires, assert ourselves, and handle conflict.

Photo credit @le.sinex

Mars in Aries

They're similar to determined marathon runners who charge forward with enthusiasm, undeterred by any obstacles. Just don't be surprised if they occasionally bump into a wall or two in their relentless pursuit.

Mars in Taurus They're the patient gardeners of love, carefully tending to their relationships like nurturing plants. They take their time to analyze the soil, wait for the perfect weather, and then make their move with unwavering determination.

Mars in Gemini They're the social chameleons of dating, adapting their approach to match the vibe of the person they're interested in. It's like they have a whole wardrobe of different personalities they can slip into, making them the masters of versatility.

Mars in Cancer They're the masters of dropping hints, leaving a trail of clues like a mischievous detective. They keep you on your toes with their mysterious and unpredictable behavior, making every interaction feel like an episode of a thrilling crime drama.

Mars in Leo They're the extravagant romantics, showering their love interest with grand gestures and lavish gifts. They believe in expressing themselves boldly and fearlessly, even if it means occasionally emptying their wallet in the process.

Mars in Virgo They're the undercover romantics, pretending to be cool and collected on the surface while secretly hoping for the other person to make the first move. It's like they're playing a game of emotional hide-and-seek, waiting for someone to uncover their hidden desires.

Mars in Libra They're the hesitant lovers, constantly second-guessing themselves and fearing rejection. They overanalyze every move and struggle with decision-making, like someone trying to choose the perfect Instagram filter for their relationship.

Mars in Scorpio They're the stealthy strategists, waiting in the shadows for the perfect moment to strike. They believe in the power of patience and calculated action, like a ninja plotting their next move.

Mars in Sagittarius They're the jacks-of-all-trades in the game of love. They have a bag full of tricks to please their partner, from witty banter to spontaneous adventures. They're like a one-person circus, always ready to entertain and surprise.

Mars in Capricorn They're the master manipulators, using their cunning and wit to get what they want. They play the game of love like a seasoned chess player, making calculated moves and occasionally catching their opponents off guard.

Mars in Aquarius They're the enigmatic superheroes, silently observing from the sidelines until they muster up the courage to reveal their feelings in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment. It's like they have a secret identity, waiting for the perfect time to save the day.

Mars in Pisces They're the poetic dreamers, expressing their feelings in intricate metaphors and whimsical prose. Trying to understand their emotions is like converting a riddle wrapped in a love letter, but once you unravel the mystery, it's like discovering a hidden treasure.

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