#where I would realize this myself and accept it

[saeist]

a/n: alternate universe where touya didn't go insane and goes to UA :] dedicated to the loml @saerins cus we're on our touya brainrot + went a little insane with this instead...

"jesus doll, excited now are we?" touya muses, a smirk on his lips as he lets you push him inside your small and cramped bathroom.

rolling your eyes, you motioned him to sit down on the toilet lid while you prepare the shower. making sure the water is just the right temperature or else you might burn touya's head off when you rinse the hairdye off his hair

"is this the part where you remove your shirt and i suck on a titty?" touya says more of a statement rather than a cheeky question. you stop yourself from hitting the boy that has his signature lopsided smirk with the shower head you were currently holding

with an exasperated sigh and a pinch to your nose bridge, you answer him

"just shut up for once, touya. besides, won't your dad kill you if he found out you're dying your hair black? or did you forget that he almost kicked you out of the house when he saw your piercings for the first time?" you raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend who decided at the last minute to dye his hair as a sign of "rebellion against his "uptight, stick far up his ass dad" his words, not yours

"he can manage" touya huffs, scoffing at the memory of his dad yelling at him for acting and starting to look like a good for nothing delinquent or in endeavour's words, a villain. "it's not like it's my duty to keep our image of a "perfect family". if only the rest of the world knew what its like to have endeavor as your deadbeat dad!"

touya and endeavour never really got a long per say.. at least that's what touya tells you whenever he had a shit day training with endeavor. days where he would train with his dad were usually days where he'd opt to spend the night at your dorm. away from all the chaos inside the todoroki estate that he unfortunately refers to as his home

but to touya, at the end of the day, you are his home. his peace, his serenity, his anchor in this world where hell could break loose at any given moment

"don't give me that look, doll" touya sighs, shoulders dropping when he noticed you were staring at him.

"i just don't want to see you hurt all over again. you almost gave me a heart attack that one time when you showed up here unannounced" you pout, letting touya slowly wrap his arms around your waist.

touya’s arms tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. “i can handle the old man. it’s his problem if he can’t accept me for who i am,” he mutters, resting his forehead against your stomach

"i mean, he already stopped giving a shit when he realized i can't withstand my flames, so who am i to give a shit back after everything he did to me?" touya continues, his grip tightening

you run your fingers through his hair gently, feeling the warmth of his presence. “shhh, we already talked about this" you shush him, "all i'm saying is that i just want you to be safe, touya. i can’t stand seeing you hurt,” you whisper, your voice tinged with worry.

he looks up at you, his usual smirk replaced with a rare, sincere expression. “i know, doll. i know." touya presses light kisses on your stomach, "but I have to be true to myself, even if it means pissing off endeavor” he chuckles, the pads of his thumb rubbing circles on your exposed skin

you both stay in that position in silence for a bit. just finding comfort with each other's presence. just the way touya likes it. nice and quiet. a contrast to his daily hellish life back at his own home

that is until touya starts to feel his scalp burn a little

"okay fun time's over, doll. my scalp's startin' to kill me here" touya shudders, slowly unwrapping his arms around you as he reaches for the shower head in your hand.

you stifle in your laughter watching him make a fuss inside your cramped bathroom.

that is until, you remembered that your bathroom tiles were pearly white and if he's rinsing off black hairdye then–

"TOUYA MY TILES!" you let out a screech

"too late, doll" touya pokes his tongue out at you, hair dye getting all over your walls and cold tiles.

you were gonna pay one hefty fine if you don't clean this shit up as soon as possible.

now, touya sits on your bed. drying his freshly dyed jet black hair with a towel and you're not even gonna lie to yourself. he looked a little too good for your liking. touya has always been a looker himself but with this new hairdo.. oh lord

"why are you looking at me like you want to eat me?" touya chuckles, hanging the now stained towel around his neck as he leans back on your bed with his elbows propped. he was giving you bedroom eyes, quite literally and figuratively.

what a tease!

"nothing. just making sure that i'm still talking to touya and not his emo alter ego dabi" you mused, plopping down on your bed next to him.

touya laughs at your comment. eyes turning into crescent moons

“thanks for everything, y/n,” touya says softly, voice full of genuine love and appreciation.

your heart swells at the sight of touya like this. you would move mountains if you could just to see touya– your touya happy.

"i love you, touya" you lean in for a kiss. to which touya happily returns the favor.

"i love you more than life, doll." touya smiles lazily against the kiss, cranking his neck to the side for more access as he deepens the kiss.

moments like these with you is when touya feels like he's on top of the world and he hopes it will forever stay like this cause to touya, he can face anything the world throws at him when he knows you'll be there right by his side

[jenanigans1207]

“I don’t regret it, Dean.” Cas says quietly. “Telling you I love you was the best moment of my life.”

“Yeah? Well, it was the worst of mine!” Dean yells, throwing his arms out to the side. There’s a moment of stricken silence where Cas’s face falls and Dean realizes how his words came across. He rushes to elaborate. “Do you know how many years I wondered if angels could feel love? Romantic love? Do you know how long I hoped that they could— that you, specifically, could? And more than that, that you would feel it towards me? I wondered all the goddamn time, Cas. And then you— you finally—“ Dean swallows past a lump in his throat, letting his arms fall back to his sides. “You finally tell me not only that you can love, but you love me. Me. And in one second, ten years of my wildest dreams came true and then were ripped away.”

Dean looks down at his feet. Clenches his jaw against the feelings threatening to choke him. He tries to take a steadying breath in through his nose but it doesn’t help him feel any better.

“Dean—“

“I didn’t think I was ever gonna see you again.” Dean confesses to his boots. “I thought I’d have to live the rest of my miserable life knowing I could’ve had you and kicking myself for being such a dumb piece of shit.” He swallows again and looks up. “I thought you were going to spend eternity not knowing that I love you, too.”

“I didn’t mean— Dean, I didn’t—“ Cas shakes his head as words fail him.

“So yeah,” Dean shrugs a little helplessly, his voice still tight with emotion. “It was the worst moment of my life. Except for every moment that came after— because every single moment from your death until you came back was the worst moment of my life. Every moment without you is. And you coming back could’ve been the best moment of my life if you hadn’t been such an ass about everything.”

There was a time, once, in the distant past where Cas’s face never betrayed any emotion. Dean could’ve scrutinized every single molecule of his expression and he wouldn’t have been able to read a goddamn thing from it. That hasn’t been the case for a long time— Cas took to emotions and humanity better than Dean did, and it was the only thing Dean had ever known.

Now, Dean can read a multitude of emotions in Cas’s expression: disbelief in the slight part of his lips, hope in the blue of his eyes, shock in the rise of his eyebrows. He can practically read every thought going through Cas’s mind as he tries to process what’s happened.

And then, there it is: acceptance in the way the corner of Cas’s mouth ticks up.

“I had no idea.” Cas answers after a moment.

“‘Course you didn’t.” Dean replies, his own mouth mirroring the small smile. “You fucked off before I got a chance to say it back.”

“I just assumed—“

“You know what they say about assuming, Cas.”

“No, I don’t.” Cas is full on smiling now, warm and full of the love Dean had only ever seen hidden in shadows of his expressions. Now it’s practically splitting his face open, spilling out of Cas like he’s finally filled up with so much of it that it’s simply impossible to keep it all in. “And frankly, I don’t care. I only care about what you have to say.”

Dean huffs out a fond laugh as he shakes his head. “Finally gonna let me do the talking, huh?”

“I’m in the mood to do some listening,” Cas’s grin is dazzling and a little cheeky, Dean wants to memorize it immediately.

He takes a step closer to Cas. And then another. Cas simply watches him approach, making no attempt to back away. His personal space is inviting and Dean enjoys stepping directly into it with no hesitation.

“Well, I might be in the mood for something other than talking.” Dean whispers, less than a foot from Cas now.

“Oh?” Cas prompts, his hand reaching across the minuscule place between them to settle on Dean’s hip.

“Yeah,” Dean murmurs, leaning in. “But just to make sure you get it through your stubborn head: I love you, Cas. And I’ll fucking kill you if you ever do something like that again.”

Dean kisses him before Cas has a chance to reply.

[jsprnt]

Americano PT. 11 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: Hi babes!!!! I’m so happy to be back, I missed writing and interacting with yall 😭 enjoy reading my loves <3

W/C: 3.447

part ten

Jude was everywhere.

Every-fucking-where.

At home, at work, sometimes even at the clubs or bars I visited..

Every corner I turned, every morning I woke up- he had to be standing or sitting closer to my vicinity than I would have ever wanted.

I rub my eyes roughly, trying to get some food into my system before we had to start packing for the Union Berlin game in Germany. The last to secure our spot in the last 16 of the Champions League.

"Can you pass the water?"

I look up, my grumpy state worsened after hearing the annoying pest's voice.

"No.." I reply, deciding to be petty, pushing the water bottle over anyway.

We don't speak for the rest of breakfast, tensions high after having to endure each other's presence for more than a week.

I had never missed my dad's presence this much before, and my patience was running so thin- if I snapped, I wouldn't even be surprised.

I get off my chair when the doorbell rings, getting up quickly to open the door, knowing it would be my package.

I smile at the delivery driver, signing his tablet quickly, before accepting the huge package.

I slam the door closed with my leg, not being able to see where I'm going while I carry the heavy machine inside.

"Let me help.." I hear Jude perk up. I hear the paddling of his house slippers come closer, a sudden warmth grazing against my fingers.

I almost drop the heavy package in surprise, hand slipping away from the cardboard box. Eyes wide when I realize Jude's holding the package with a stable grip and ease. His face hidden behind the box.

"On the counter?" He questions, already turning and walking towards the kitchen island before I can reply.

I hurry behind him, eyes shifting over his form. Muscles protruding due to the work he's putting into placing the box on the counter.

"Thank you.."

The words feel foreign falling from my lips, only because they are directed at someone I never thought I'd simply thank.

He only replies with a small grunt, motioning to the huge box with his head, his hands going up to roll his T-shirt sleeves up.

I avert my gaze from his arms, to the package, quickly grabbing a butter knife from the kitchen cabinet.

I slide the knife through the transparent tape, directing the knife away from myself.

Standing on my tiptoes, a small noise of irritation leaves my mouth when I pull the coffee machine out of its box.

"Really? A coffee machine?" I hear Jude say, his hand reaching over to pull out the folded invoice included in the package.

"A thousand euros?!" He exclaims, looking like his eyes are about to pop out of his head.

I grumble, snatching the papers out of his hands.

"I didn't pay, don't you worry.."

I wouldn't be the brightest to buy such an expensive machine with my own money, my salary wasn't exactly that much to splurge like this.

"Oh, daddy's money- got it.." He smirks, folding his arms on his chest. The white T-shirt pressing closer to his torso.

"Last night you came home with those ugly ass sneakers worth five thousand euros- don't even try it.."

I scoff, trying to glaze over the fact that I indirectly called my house, his home.

I grab the instructions of the machine, carrying it over to plug in the socket.

"Do you even know how that thing works?"

"Obviously, I'm not someone who buys seven euro lattes every damn day.."

I fill the water reservoir, inspecting the compartments carefully, then turn the machine on.

"Oh, you're so much better than me for making coffee at home.." He mocks, making me turn around, hand resting on the base of the machine absentmindedly as it warms up.

"How difficult is it for you to- fuck.."

I whip my head around, fingers stinging as hot water pours from the coffee machine. I gasp loudly, pulling my wet hand away from it rapidly.

"What did you do?" I hear Jude exclaim, he snatches my wrist, pulling me towards the sink with haste. He pulls my hand towards the faucet, allowing water to soothe my burning hand.

"Are you ever careful?!" He hisses, gripping my wrist tightly. I look up from the streaming water, confused by how frustrated he looks.

"It's fine, it wasn't that hot.." I mumble, feeling his hold tighten. I begin wiggling my hand out of his, giving him a quizzical look.

"Let go, Jude.." I add, finally getting my hand free from his iron grip.

I hear him sigh as he runs a hand down his face. He stares at me for a moment, then I watch him disappear for a moment, into the bathroom.

I take a deep breath, inspecting any changes in the skin of my fingers. Not noticing anything, I pull my hand away from the faucet. The stinging not as bad as earlier. I turn the water off, ready to walk away and grab a kitchen towel to dry my hand.

"Come here." I hear Jude say, I look up immediately, seeing him sitting at the dining table with a first aid kit. One he'd probably found while snooping around in the bathroom.

I walk over without protest, sitting next to him awkwardly. I hold my hand out, watching him treat my hand.

"It's literally not even that bad-"

"Stop talking." He deadpans, making me raise my brows. He coats my burnt skin with soothing cream, making me wince a couple times.

"Thank you.."

Again, I said it again.

I clear my throat, trying to ignore the heat creeping up to my cheeks, embarrassed by our proximity.

"We should get to packing. We have to leave in a couple hours.”

"Congratulations guys! You’ve all worked so hard.." I praise, hugging each individual player when they walk into the changing room. Patting them on the shoulder proudly.

"Rough game, wasn't it?" I ask Joselu, chuckling at his expression. The man had put his entire heart and soul into the game, giving us two goals- making his POTM title well-deserved.

"I'm so exhausted. You sure you want me for the interview?" He asks, pulling his jacket on.

I nod, motioning to Luis.

"We're ready, when you're ready.."

The interview doesn't take long, and before I knew it, we had all arrived back at our hotel. It had become a small tradition for some of the players and staff to chill in the hotel restaurant after matches, and this night was no exception.

Due to how close our team is, most of us didn't really get dressed up. We had some tea or coffee with small desserts or plates of cut-up fruit.

It was insanely cold in Berlin, obviously due to the season, and the rain wouldn't stop pouring from the sky. The heating was on in the restaurant, accompanied by the cosy fireplace right behind our table.

I check the time in the midst of listening to Federico's story about what he did during his last break. Seems like the rest of the table thinks it's hilarious, because they all burst out in laughter while I'm distracted by my phone.

My eyes water in exhaustion, and I clench my jaw in order to hold a yawn back, not trying to look annoyed or bored.

Waiting for the right timing, I get up, bidding farewell to the team, then I quickly walk into the elevator, pressing the button to my floor.

Arriving in my hotelroom, I jump onto the fluffy, soft bed, sighing in pleasure.

Though, my peace is short-lived when there is a harsh knock on my door.

I grumble, getting up annoyed- stupid enough to open the door without checking or verifying who it is.

It's no one else than Jude, a familiar-looking piece of jewelry in his palm.

"You dropped this earlier." He mutters, holding the gold bracelet out.

I hum, holding my hand out, so he can attach it back to my wrist.

I hear him scoff, smug look on his face as he looks at me, placing the bracelet on my wrist. I don't give him the satisfaction of having my attention- instead I scroll on my phone, refreshing the browser to see if my most recent test results will show up.

"No way!"

I scream, eyes going wide, as I realize I had passed all of my exams, even the one I cried about on the way home.

"What?" Jude asks, confused by the excitement in my eyes and form.

"I passed!" I shove the phone into his face, not even letting him see for a split-second until I pull my phone away and place it on the vanity.

"I passed, Jude!" I squeal again, unconsciously grabbing onto the puzzled guy’s hands. I squeeze his hand, soft skin caressing mine, while I beam with joy. Widest smile on my face as I jump up and down.

"You passed? Even though you were crying at the kitchen table all night long?"

I freeze, stopping myself from jumping again, looking up at him, surprised.

"You saw that?"

"You were making it a little too obvious.."

I scoff, looking down at our intertwined hands, immediately pulling my hand back in embarrassment. Confused about why I let my vulnerability slip so easily.

"Okay, well, you can leave if there is nothing else.." I mutter, unable to ignore the huge, smug smile on his face.

"Goodnight, y/n.." He speaks, stepping back, and I wish I could wipe that smirk off his face.

Maybe even a punch…

"Goodnight, or whatever.." I blurt, slamming the door closed in his face.

"No- don't come in.." y/n slurs, collecting her bag from the dashboard. Vision blurred and disoriented as she fidgets with the car door.

"Are you sure? You're absolutely hammered.." Luis asks, leaning over to open the door for the frazzled girl.

"Yup! All good." She replies, heels killing her feet when she steps out of the car.

"Bye!" She adds, slamming the door a little too hard, earning a yell from her best friend, before she stumbles to the front door of her house.

Nights like these are why she's happy there is a keypad on the door as well, fishing for her keys in this state would be a disaster.

She punches the numbers in quickly, hearing Luis's car drive away when she opens the door and stumbles inside.

It's not as dark inside as she'd imagined, instead, the living room lights are on. The TV blaring with a show she's unfamiliar with.

Throwing her heels off, she makes a beeline towards the couch, slumping against the soft cushions.

"y/n?" She hears a voice say, not bothering to open her eyes, she hums in response.

"You okay?" The Brum accent asks, and instantly a warm hand makes contact with her forehead.

"You're drunk." He says, stating it as a fact, rather than a question.

"I'm not drunk, let me sleep." She replies, shifting on the couch.

"You need to get cleaned up. You reek of alcohol." He urges, hand going to pull her arm up. 

"No!" She replies, gasping when she's lifted up from the couch. Opening her eyes, she clutches onto his shirt, confused by where he's bringing her.

"What are you doing?"

"You wanted to sleep, no?" He mutters cockily, slowly walking up the stairs, strong arms wrapped around her back and thighs.

She makes a small noise in exhaustion, unconsciously placing her head on his broad shoulder. Undeniably, her makeup smudges against the gray fabric of his shirt, but he doesn't seem to mind all that much, not even realizing the small grin on his own face as he places her in her bed.

He switches her bedside lamp on, happy he's not missed the bed when placing her on it in the dark.

Stepping back, he pulls the covers over her body, looking around for some specific thing. He steps closer to her vanity, looking for something similar to what his mother used to remove her own makeup.

Jude makes a small noise of satisfaction when he sees a pack of wipes, the English text on it enough to confirm it's the item he's looking for.

He turns around with the pack of wipes, stepping closer to the sleeping girl. He carefully sits on the empty side of her bed, careful not to touch her unnecessarily, grabbing a wipe, and clumsily rubbing the white towel along her face.

His face inches closer to her sleeping one, trying to remove the makeup enough so it won't stain her white pillows. He watches her eyelids and face twitch, causing a soft, fuzzy feeling to creep up into his chest.

His breath hitches when he realizes their proximity. He pulls the makeup-stained wipe away from her face, grabbing a clean one and caressing it on her soft cheek.

When her face is wiped clean, he pulls back, chest thumping with an unwelcome feeling. A soft sigh leaves his plump lips, he runs a hand down his face. Grabbing the edge of her warm blanket, placing it on her, causing her to shift a little in her slumber.

A familiar feeling of déjà vu passes through his senses, a soft grunt coming from the sleeping girl next to him. 

He pauses his movements, eyes roaming on her sleeping face, before he gets up from her bed. Leaving the lamp on as he hurriedly walks out of her room. Accidentally taking the pack of wipes with him, and forgetting to close her door in his sudden hurry.

December in Madrid was something Jude was slowly getting used to. Although nothing could compare to the weather in Birmingham and Dortmund he'd gotten familiar with over the years. 

It’s only hours later, past three in the morning, when he's awoken by pain in his shoulder. It had been bothering him for weeks now, but he was insisting on playing.

Even if it meant that he had to wear a personalized shoulder brace and had to take injections to combat the pain during important games. 

His move to Madrid was no doubt a big one, with the entirety of the football world looking at how the 100 million-euro transfer would start his first season at Real Madrid.

To Jude, even a dislocated shoulder could not hold him back from delivering his best performance. 

Sitting up from the bed he had been calling his own, for the past few weeks, he looks around the dark room. Rain trickling out of the dark clouds and harshly hitting the huge windows of his room. 

Jude gets up from the comfort of the warm bed, pulling his shirt off to check his shoulder. He had been wearing his brace regularly, but sometimes it would be so uncomfortable that he had to take it off in the middle of the night. 

He unbuckles the belt that’s secure on his chest, expensive material soft to the touch as he slides the black brace off carefully. A soft grunt of pain leaves his mouth as he throws it to the other side of the bed. 

Pulling his slippers on and opening the door of his room, he can only see light emitting from y/n's room. Her bedroom door open since he had forgotten to close it earlier. 

He averts his gaze from her room, ready to go downstairs to grab a cup of water. Though, he stops dead in his tracks when he hears noise coming from her room. A soft whimper, accompanied by the rustle of her movements. 

Not another thought runs through his head before he makes a beeline into her room. He walks past her door, her body visibly restless underneath her blanket. He stands next to her bed awkwardly, moving his face closer to inspect the scrunch of her brows, displaying the distress on her face. 

"y/n.." He begins, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. He lifts his hand, moving his hand to her cheek, touching it tenderly with his thumb. Trying to rouse her from her sleep. Though, seems like it doesn’t work, especially since her face twitches again. 

"Hey! Wake up.." Jude whisper-shouts, not even realizing or asking himself what he is trying to accomplish. 

"Fucking hell. What am I even trying to do." He curses to himself, moving his hand to her shoulder again. She’s still dressed in her clubbing outfit from last night, causing his hand to make immediate contact with her bare shoulder. 

"Mom.." A sudden whisper leaves her lips, full of raw emotion and sadness. A ragged breath follows, the tremble of her lip visible in the dim light next to them. 

Jude immediately halts all of his movements, his breath hitches in surprise. He had never heard her or others around her utter a single word about her mother. It was always about her father or one of her aunts. 

Jude was never curious about it for some reason. He had many friends whose parents weren’t together or single. Her only having her father in her life, or to the extent he’d seen- wasn’t all that surprising until this very moment. 

"Don't go..." Another whimper, followed by an audible, strangled sob, tears glistening in the corners of her closed eyes. 

He had never felt this confused and helpless before. Feeling his chest tighten, he leans over her body, moving to sit next to her on the bed. With one last shake of her shoulders, he tries to wake her up from her horror-filled dream. 

"y/n!" He shouts this time, voice echoing along with the rainfall outside, his brows furrowed in worry. 

y/n's eyes snap open in shock, mouth falling open, only for her lips to tremble.

Tears fill her eyes, the only thing visible to her: Jude's concerned face. 

Picking up on her sudden shock, his arms snake around her back, allowing her to sit up and breathe. 

"You’re fine, it was just a dream.." He says softly, eyes focused on her face. Instead of his words soothing her, tears start falling down her cheeks, breath unsteady as sobs fall from her lips. 

His eyes widen, her state blind-siding him.

Yes, he had seen her cry once or twice before, but this- this was different. The girl's face was absolutely clad in pain and sadness.

It made his heart and soul shatter, blood running cold at the sight. 

"Hey.. Look at me.." He mutters, hand reaching up to her chin. His fingers graze her skin, gently but firmly lifting her head to make eye contact with her wet eyes. 

She faces him, cheeks and lashes wet from tears. Eyes bloodshot, as her lips tremble uncontrollably. Jude's eyes soften, brows scrunching in more concern. 

"y/n-" He tries to call out to her to further ground her, though a soft gasp leaves his mouth when she practically launches herself into his hold.

Her trembling body pressed against his naked chest, shaky arms wrapped around his back. 

Her forehead collides with his collarbone, to his luck, not against his injured shoulder. His arms fall against his side in bewilderment, mouth falling open for a moment. Only her soft sobs audible next to the raging storm outside. 

Her nails claw against his bare back, not realizing the slight pain she’s causing him through her sheer desperation of wanting to feel safe and grounded. 

Jude can feel his skin burning up. Of course, he had his fair share of subtle or intimate touches with other women. A hug, a kiss- whatever it had been- his body had never gone this rigid before.

He's pulled out of his thoughts by her nonstop sobbing. Getting his courage and shit together, and pushing his shock away- he lifts his hand from his side, sliding his arms around her back, pulling her body flush against his. 

"You're okay. You’re safe..." He mumbles, fingers rubbing her nape soothingly, other hand pressing her face closer against his chest. 

"I'm here, y/n.." The unfamiliar sentence leaves his mouth with a shaky breath, her sobbing continuing all through his sweet words. 

He's absolutely certain, that if she were fully conscious and not crying her heart out- she'd be able to hear the stupid thundering of his heart, maybe it would be even louder than the storm outside. 

He also knows that this feeling has been brewing in his chest like a damn F5 tornado for the past few weeks.

Causing incredible damage to his heartstrings and confusion to his feelings and thoughts...

[astrologyobservationsss]

Random Observations

#4 synastry

5H OVERLAYS

SUN ☌ AC

SUN ASPECTING MARS

URANUS ☌/△/✱ PERSONAL PLANETS

PLUTO ASPECTING INNER PLANETS/POINTS

🍨 PEOPLE’S PERSONAL PLANETS IN YOUR 5H tell me if I’m wrong but, in my experience you can't stop smiling. They bring you joy and with just a look you start smiling (I guess this won’t happen if your 5H or the planets falling in you 5th are afflicted). I have some examples with two friends. With one, their Moon is falling in my 5th and with the other it’s Venus. One night, after meeting with some friends, we spend some time the three of us and literally we where kids laughing and making each other smile. Both of them produce me that feeling, but the second one in a more romantic way (even that I feel attracted by the Moon)

🍨 PEOPLE WITH SUN CONJUNCT YOUR ASCENDANT you look alike, and people can view similarities between you. For example, my friend follows an instagramer (christylevich) that has her Sun precisely conjunct my Ascendant. She always send me posts of her, telling me the resemblance. I also have this one with my sister -in a wider orb 2º-, same again. One more example could be my cousins Sun conjunct a friends of mine Ascendant. The other day I told her, WOW, you remind me of my cousin. And then I realize about the aspect. But in this case, my friend has her Mars conjunct my cousin Sun, and their suns are in opposition, so there's more added to it

I just noticed that all this examples happen in Virgo 🧐

🍨 SUN ASPECTING MARS I experienced this aspect several times, with hard and soft ones, and I can say that it’s SO attractive. The last example that made me want to write about this aspect was the trine. I have double whammy with tight orb with one of my work colleagues. In air (Libra-Aquarius) and earth (Virgo-Capricorn) signs. Apart from other good aspects that we share -trying to isolate this one- I would point out that we like how the other makes things. Since the beginning I was physically attracted to him. And he told me that he likes how I work. There is attraction. Although he shown me signs of that, the trine is more gentle than the hard aspects. With the square and opposition double whammy I noticed that the contrary can happen. It always depends on the natal chart of each individual and other aspects BUT, there is a feeling of “I don’t understand how you do things”. This happened to me with a flatmate. Even I accept her and she is nice, sometimes I have this feeling of, "why would you do that?"… (not proud of it)

🍨 URANUS ☌/△/✱ PERSONAL PLANETS LOVE-THESE-ASPECTS! Every person that I had this aspect with was amazing. Since the beginning I had 0 shame about being weird. In other words, I could be myself without restraining. But if I had to choose I would choose the SUN-URANUS as the best one. Being yourself is funny. There is no judgment between you. You feel alive and want to be with that person. It’s similar to the other aspects, but because there's different energies involved it subtly changes. With the VENUS-URANUS there’s that freedom-feeling that it’s comfortable, and in my experience, the Venus person will feel the attraction straight away

🍨 YOUR PLUTO ASPECTING THEIR INNER PLANETS/POINTS you can’t express this feeling with words. It's just something that happens with both of you. I have the VENUS-PLUTO double whammy—☌ to my Pluto and ✱ my Venus—with my best friend and it’s an aspect that creates glue. Is the level of deep understanding, there’s no secrets between you. Also, the conjunction is on the 4H, creating that level of openness to the private life. We also have MOON ☌ PLUTO and IC, again producing a deep level of emotional support and trust. On the other side Pluto negatively aspecting your inner planets/points, can be manipulating, but that’s another story, long enough to make a new post. What I can say is that it always depends on the maturity of the Pluto person, and how this planet is aspected in their natal chart. I always found Venus-Pluto aspects in the natal chart as a softener of that “toxic” intensity

Hope u liked it! :) And as always, I love to hear from your experience, so we both learn. Let your comment if you have something to share <3

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© Astrologyobservationsss

[bats-and-birds-24]

Chapter 8:

Tim woke up actually feeling refreshed for once. Looking around the room he once again realized that he was in the league of assassins. Leave it to him to somehow manage to get a good night's sleep in the enemy's guest room, but not in his own bed.

He gets up and notices that he was wearing a delicate silk green and gold pajama set, something he distinctly remembers not going to sleep in. His stomach churned uncomfortably, the league probably changed him while he was unconscious, meaning that they now knew all the tools he had in his utility belt.

Tim grimaced as he hobbled over to the table where his uniform, now clean, neatly sat. Rummaging through his utility belt, he couldn't help but notice that all his tools had been cleaned and neatly arranged. Some had even been replaced with better league versions. 

He sighed, Talia must have had the servants go through everything. He wanted to say something, but decides that it would be safer to bite his tongue while being a guest at one of the best assassin groups in the world.

Noticing a bathroom in the corner of his eye, he figures that he may as well clean up, along with checking that scar on his abdomen. 

He grabs a towel and his now clean uniform and heads inside.

"What the fuck Bruce." Dick's tone was flat, monotone, but inside, he was seething.

Bruce noticing his eldest, grimaced for the argument that was to come, "I'm not going to defend myself-"

"You better not," Dick cuts in, "what's all this about losing Tim?"

Bruce rubs his face, "Tim's tracker turned off at the league of shadows base on Sullivan Island."

Dick released a breath he didn't know he was holding in. It was typical for either he or Tim to turn off the tracker when they felt that B was becoming too overbearing. 

"B, Tim probably just turned off the tracker on his phone because he knew that you would get all paranoid." He replies, rubbing at his temples.

Bruce was getting frustrated now, "Not the tracker in his phone Dick, I'm talking about the one in the soles of his boots. He doesn't know about that one yet."

Dick could feel his blood pressure rise at this, "I'm sorry, are you telling me that you secretly chipped Tim?" 

Bruce's tension was increasing now as well, "That's not the biggest issue here-"

Only to be cut off by Dick muttering, "Of course it isn't." under his breath.

Bruce took a deep breath to calm himself,and through gritted teeth, he replies, "Because, Tim may have gotten himself kidnapped."

Everything was silent for a moment as a Dick digested that piece of information. His rage began to come back in full force. 

How could he push away another Robin, had he learned nothing after Jason's passing? However, he pushed all of that information aside to focus on the bigger picture, they needed to get Tim back, and fast, if Bruce was correct. The league of shadows were considered high threat level villains for a reason after all.

Dick lets out a sigh and rubs his eyes, "I'll suit up and head to the base, you get the DNA kit and meet me there."

The two separated to do what needs to be done.

Jason was having a fairly normal day with Cass and Damian when he noticed Talia enter the room. She looked tired. She was still as put together as ever, but the weariness in her eyes gave it away.

Cass looked at him, she must have noticed it as well. She nodded at him and scoops Damian up in her arms, ignoring his protests, and leaves for the training grounds, leaving him and Talia alone.

Jason starts, "Alright Talia, what's going on?"

Talia looks away, "Nothing you need to worry about." 

"I refuse to accept that." Talia could see the glint in his eyes which showed that he won't be backing down anytime soon.

Might as well get this over with.

"The current Robin, Tim Drake, has come to look for you in the league." 

The ground seemed to sway beneath his feet. Jason stumbled over to the nearest chair and flopped down. His mind was going a mile a minute. What would the kid who replaced him want to see him for?

Bruce had to be behind this, he must have known that he came back to life. He wasn't ready to meet Batman again, his father again.

"I want to meet the kid." It came out as a hoarse whisper, but Talia could hear the conviction behind it.

She looks at him and replies, "Alright then, you two will meet tomorrow evening." Jason simply nods.

As she turned and left the room, she couldn't help but think that this was good, they were always bound to meet, but at the very least, she would now have control over how.

[kidvoodoo]

Solitaire

The long drive from the airport passed by with a dizzying blur and Joost found himself barely taking in the scenery of the snowy streets, preferring instead to be captivated by the man in the back of the limo with him.

Käärijä. The upstart his own ex-boss had been complaining about not even a year ago. This was his savior and temporary bodyguard. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

‘He’s so much different than I pictured…’ he thought to himself. The man couldn’t be older than his early thirties, he was expecting some grizzled Fin with hard eyes and an even harsher demeanor, not an eccentrically stylish man with eyeliner, silver piercings and a bowl cut…

But the man, for all his oddities, was surprisingly warm.

He patched Joost up without question, risked his life and the lives of his people just to get the Dutchman out of danger. Joost doesn’t get it, doesn’t understand even in the slightest. He barely has a chance to process anything from the last twenty-four hours.

“Um,” he softly clears his voice, “I was gonna ask, where is a good place for me to lie low for a while? I have some cash I can use to pay rent…”

Käärijä looks at him with a puzzled expression, Joost shrinks a little under the stare.

“Why you need to rent? You coming to my place of course.”

Joost’s eyebrows shoot up and he nearly drops his glass of brandy.

“Wha-ah wait, I couldn’t do that, I would be bringing danger directly to you if I’m found out!”

The other man snorts a laugh, his eyes glinting with amusement.

“You think I scared of old Dutch gangsters? They are afraid of me! Besides, you try and go into hiding and they probably find you anyway.” He shrugs nonchalantly, as if he hasn’t just declared war on the entire Western Mafia.

“They always gonna find you, but they are stupid to try and take you while I’m watching,” he grins, those sharp canines giving his expression a vicious edge.

“Not the first time they try and cross me, now their men underneath a frozen swamp in pieces.”

Joost swallows, he forgot for a moment this isn’t just an excitable newcomer with a deathwish, he’s the Nordic Crime Lord for a reason. You don’t get far in the Underworld if you can’t get your hands dirty and bare your teeth.

“Still…it’s an imposition. I can’t in good conscience accept more help from yo-“

“Shh! Enough.” He silences Joost with a sharp word. “I say you are coming with me, you are staying at my compound. It is safest place in Finland I promise.”

Käärijä leans forward and fixes his gaze on Joost, much softer than before.

“Tommy doesn’t vouch for a lot of people. I hear you take two million from your former boss. I don’t know why you did it, maybe you need the money, but I do know a clever money man when I meet one.”

He smiles, he looks almost too sweet and genuine to have just been talking about butchered people and tossing their remains in a swamp.

“It take a lot of guts to do what you did Mr. Klein. We need people like you in the Union, if not as members, than at least allies.”

Joost drops his gaze to the ground.

“I didn’t steal the money for myself,” he says under his breath, ‘Am I really going to admit this right now?’

“What you do with it?”

“I emptied sixteen accounts and forwarded it over to INTERPOL, the two million is what the investigation is willing to discuss publicly.”

He looks up into Käärijä’s eyes and almost bashfully admits it.

“The total sum is around two Billion.”

<><><>

The rest of the journey was spent in silence, Käärijä seemed to adopt a more thoughtful demeanor as he no doubt was processing the depth of Joost’s gambit. He doesn’t blame the man, it still sounds absolutely absurd when he says it out loud.

Absurd, dangerous, stupid…

But does he regret it?

The scenery changes and it’s a while before Joost realizes they aren’t in Helsinki proper anymore. His abysmal grasp of the Finnish language isn’t helping as they pass sign after sign, the only one slightly recognizable is a larger sign displaying the name ‘Vantaa’.

Käärijä must have caught his puzzled look, as the man is beaming with pride when Joost turns to face him again.

“My city, my rules.”

Joost manages a shy smile of his own.

“I’ve always wanted to see Finland…didn’t think it would be like this of course.”

The gangster chuckles, Joost is caught off guard by the casual openness of it all.

“No worries, you gonna have a good time, a lot of fun things around here!”

“Have a good time fearing for my life you mean?” He means it in a joking way, but the concern on Käärijä’s face is evident.

“Hey, I promise you I keep you safe okay? I don’t break promises, and if I do? You can steal my money, I give you 10 seconds head start.” He winks and Joost can’t help but smile at the man, for someone supposedly so dangerous, he jokes around a lot.

A little while later the vehicle descends deeper into the city, the sky had quickly fallen dark and the twinkling lights of the streets and buildings illuminate the snowy walkways. The people are scarce on the streets, the occasional gaggle of pub-goers making their way around town seem unaffected by the cold and icy night.

“Here,” Käärijä says, tapping the glass of the window and gesturing outside. “This my place.”

Joost looks out the window at an imposing high rise building, towering twelve stories at least above the snow covered streets; It’s bright blue lighting casts a cold glow over the block, it’s massive, illuminated and worst of all, highly visible.

This…this is the hideout?!

The Finnish gangster grins and before Joost has a moment to process his now increasingly troubling situation, he’s being ushered out of the back of the car and into the frigid wintery night, up the short flight of stairs to the entrance where another bald gentleman in a black suit is waiting to open the door and welcome them inside.

His eyes adjust to the bright lights of the…lobby? The floors are a white marble and the walls equally as stark. Aside from a couple of comfortable and trendy looking leather couches, the ground floor is empty of any decorative features. At the back of the large room is a double set of silver elevator doors and sat in front of them is a concierge-type of desk. Its matte black surface stands out against the stark white room as does the figure sitting behind the desk.

Another bald man…could they be triplets? No, on further inspection Joost realizes they all seem to resemble each other, but not perfectly, not identically.

Brothers?

Joost startles and lets out an undignified yelp as the bald man who let them through the door grabs his shoulders and begins patting him down without a word.

“Hey! What are-“

“You really should have done this before he got in the car, Jere…”

Another presence startles him further causing the bald man to squeeze his shoulder threateningly.

“Be still.” The man growls. Joost freezes.

His attention is drawn back to a tutting noise, a taller blond man casually strolls up to the three, his hands in the pockets of his navy blue suit pants. He’s wearing a relaxed style shirt in crisp white and sports an easy grin. Around his neck is an expensive looking black camera, the man’s face looks…similar to-

“Jakko, relax. I don’t think Jere would let a spree shooter in the building, no matter how much of an air head he is.”

“Fuck off Mikke,” Käärijä snarls beside him, petulantly crossing his arms. “I know what I am doing.”

“Don’t let him fool you,” the blonde man winks at Joost and holds out his hand expectantly. “It’s lovely to meet you Mr. Klein, I’m Mikke, the boss’s older brother, welcome to the Union headquarters.”

The man grasps his hand for a firm albeit friendly greeting just as the bald man, Jakko apparently, digs out the meager belongings Joost had somewhat hidden in his suit’s inner pocket.

“H-Hey! That’s-“

He’s doesn’t have time to react before his wallet, phone and little vial of pills are passed off to Käärijä.

“We get you set up with secure phone card yes?” He says matter-of-factly, checking the edges of the device for any obvious tampering or bugging. “You smart to not turn it on yet.”

“Thanks I guess, but-“

“Mr Klein,” the blond man interrupts. “Look over here.”

Joost does, and is for the moment blinded by a flash of white light, having had his photo taken by the man’s black camera completely unexpectedly.

“Hey, wha-“

“For your fake ID, we’ll have it ready for you by tomorrow, also we can get you anything else document-wise within the next three days so please let me or any of the staff know! Good to meet you!” And without another word, the blond man is gone out the door behind him.

What the fuck is happening?!

“Come, let’s get upstairs okay? We have a lot of things to do before the night is over.” Käärijä says to him, passing his phone back but holding onto the wallet and pills.

He doesn’t have a moment to breathe or process anything as they make their way over to the elevators, a quick nod from the bald man at the front desk relays some unspoken information to the mafia boss and the sound of the elevator dinging echos in the empty lobby.

Loading into the elevator, Joost takes in the panel of floor numbers . Thirteen floors in total, one labeled as a basement beneath the building, the top floor button has a number pad next to it, off limits to anyone without the code.

“Fifty Euros? That’s all you have?” Käärijä asks in a shocked tone, he’s digging through Joost’ wallet now. “You say you have money for rent? This not enough!”

Joost moves to yank the wallet out of the Fins hand but one look from Jakko behind his dark shades and his hand lowers. He still resolves to clear his throat and holds out his palm in a gesture of polite request.

“May I please have my wallet back? There isn’t anything dangerous in there I promise, I shredded my ID and bank cards. I was planning on fencing some information for additional funds.”

Käärijä cocks a disbelieving eyebrow at that as he pulls out the only other thing in Joost’s wallet, an old folded up Polaroid.

“Wait! Please don’t-“ he begs, the gangster takes one look at Joost’s face and his desperate tone must have struck something, because the man is carefully tucking the photo back in and returning his wallet and phone.

“Sorry, Mikke was right I should have checked sooner.” His tone is apologetic and Joost sighs, pocketing his phone and wallet again.

“It’s…it’s fine, really. I understand you can’t be too careful in this business. And I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” He offers a shy smile, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. Käärijä pats him on the shoulder and the elevator dings to announce their arrival to the eleventh floor, the silver double doors parting to reveal new space.

The space is huge, penthouse sized with clean looking floors and expensive, elegant furnishings. The lighting is studio style with the sliders able to accommodate whatever level of visibility is needed, for now it’s a soft glow that doesn’t strain the eyes. The windows are large and have a breathtaking view of the cityscape below, there is a full sized kitchen, an alcove off to side where the bedroom and bathroom must reside, a comfortable looking leather couch, a desk, dinner table and chairs, a frankly ridiculously large flatscreen tv…

It’s…very nice.

“Here it is!” Käärijä claps his gloved hands together and practically drags Joost into the space, his excitement evident. “We getting you a new laptop and there is plenty of food if you are hungry, oh! Here is the bedroom, you have a great view of the river, we get your phone working tomorrow don’t worry-“

Joost can’t help but sputter in amusement a little at the man’s energetic enthusiasm, for a moment he forgets he’s being hunted by the most dangerous gangsters in all of Western Europe and instead lets himself be whisked away by the gangster. He forgets he’s in the company of the man upheaving one hundred years of underworld tradition, he forgets, as he looks out the window of his new bedroom at the glittering lights of the city below, dots of yellow and gold reflecting off the snowy cityscape. He nearly gasps at the beauty in the night.

“You want to hang onto these?” Käärijä asks from behind him, Joost turns and sees the man holding his little bottle of pills, a soft yet sad look on his face.

“Oh, I…I guess I should.” Joost stammers, staring down at the two little pills. He nearly forgot he had these. His just-in-case. Last resort.

“You know,” Käärijä says quietly, taking a second to choose his words wisely. “I hope you can be comfortable here. I am sorry this all happening.”

“But my place is right above, you can use call button by elevator if you need anything, okay?”

Joost feels almost guilty in this moment, it’s obvious Käärijä knows what is in the bottle but he won’t say it aloud. The man has risked his life for him, taken him in and is using all his collected resources to protect him. And here Joost is taking back the bottle.

Like he would thank the man with the gift of his corpse.

“Um,” Joost begins, taking it all in. “I really do want to thank you. I don’t have…many friends out there, at least not many who would go out of their way to help me like this…”

You don’t have any friends anymore, you robbed them blind and put a target on your head.

“So if there is anything I can do to repay you, please let me know. I don’t want to just take something without returning in kind.”

Käärijä looks into his eyes and a smile blossoms on his face though the sadness in his eyes stays. He squeezes Joost’s hand, the bottle of pills a barrier between them but the warmth in there radiating through the leather glove he wears. Joost can’t help but blush a little.

“The only thing you need to do is relax now, we gonna take care of this okay? Tomorrow I give you actual tour of the place, we get your phone secure and get you ID card.” He gives Joost’s hand one last squeeze and then he’s heading towards the door, Jakko standing vigilantly by the elevator waiting for him.

Joost watches him go, the bottle still clenched in his hand. The glass is warm as is his palm.

The man gives one last wave goodbye before the elevator doors close and it begins to descend, leaving Joost in the quiet of his new residence.

He takes a minute to let it all sink in. In twenty-four hours, his life has completely shattered and was simultaneously reconstructed in an instant. From the moment he ended the phone call with Tommy, his heart hasn’t stopped pounding and the eventual adrenaline drain finally begins to make his body tremble.

He needs to sit down.

He all but collapses on the bed, his bed, with the dark blue duvet cover and soft looking white pillows and stared at the ceiling, feeling the manic fight-or-flight instinct dissolving in his blood.

Minutes passed, maybe hours. Joost’s mind calms and he takes in his surroundings properly. There is a bedside table with a small reading lamp, next to it is an ashtray with a pack of unopened cigarettes and a lighter.

It’s his usual brand.

He should probably be more concerned about that, how could Käärijä know that? If Tommy is their only mutual contact, a man he has only ever communicated with long distance, who did Käärijä have in place to know this information?

He’s too tired to care as he reaches over and opens the pack, shrugging off his suit jacket and carelessly tossing it on the floor. Lighting up a cigarette, he stares at the bandage on his hand, the non-functioning phone on the bed, the little bottle of pills…

The photo is old and creased, the edges of the Polaroid turning yellow with age. There is a skinny boy with a head of bright blond hair and a huge smile on his face, his front left tooth missing, his second baby tooth to go that year. His glasses are busted on one side, held together with tape and willpower alone. He sports a striped polo shirt that has grass stains all over it, a result of his recent roughhousing in the field behind his home. Behind him is a man giving holding up two fingers behind the boy’s head, a mocking bunny ears gesture and a jovial expression on his face. He shares the same jawline as the kid, same smile and same joy.

Joost exhales a plume of smoke and looks out into the darkness of the night, the sea of lights below seemed miles away.

What have I gotten myself into now?

<><><>

Hey! I am now posting this story on ao3! Come check it out and leave a comment if you like!

[buckyownsmylife]

Crash & Burn - Chapter 4

The one where Bucky is your father best friend, and the man you want to take your virginity.

Bucky is losing everything: his wife, his business, his house. And when his best friend is too busy to offer him the support he needs, you offer him your ear and shoulder. He wouldn't find it too bad that getting closer to you made him see you with new eyes, if it wasn't for the one thing you asked in return: you want him to be the first man to ever fuck you.

For general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“How are you feeling?” The first thing I noticed when I woke up wasn’t the throbbing in my head or how bright the light was despite the curtains blocking most of it from pouring in from my bedroom’s window. It was the way fingers softly rubbed my scalp, trying to stir me awake as gently as possible.

Sighing, I rolled to the side, not realizing that the gentle caress would disappear. Its absence was so deeply felt by my still sleeping body, it prompted me to roll back and hit something hard and soft at the same time.

And that’s when I woke up.

What. the fuck?

“Are you awake, sweetheart?” The something hard-and-soft questioned, and all I could think to say were two simple words:

Fuck, no.

“Go away.” I wasn’t too sure he understood my words, as they were muttered against my pillow as I pressed my face against it, hoping to block out the entire world at least until the sun decided to hide.

It was too bright, anyway.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” His chuckle was literally the only sound my ears could bear at that time. It’s what I used to anchor me back to reality when he pried the pillow away from me, forcing me to deal with the light in the room as he got up to open the windows without any care for the probability of me turning blind at the sight.

“Listen,” I tried to reason with his madness, “I know I fucked up. Believe me, I do. But aren’t I a little too old for punishment? And isn’t torture a bit… extreme?” Apparently, hungover-me was the dramatic type. I’d be more willing to feel embarrassed about the tantrum I was throwing on Bucky if it weren’t for the damn pounding on my head, but another chuckle from him just led me to relax my muscles against the warm bed and finally open my eyes fully to see him.

Damn.

He was wearing a simple white shirt, but it looked so delicious on his body. I wasn’t too sure where this desire had come from - I’d always felt some sort of crush or attraction to the man, he was undeniably hot - but considering how we met, I’d never allowed it to develop past an almost childlike curiosity.

Until we started living together.

James had been in and out of our house for most of his friendship with my father. “Sleepovers” (if one could even use that word for people over thirty) were more than common especially after game nights, when everyone would come over and James would be the last one to leave, opting to crash in our guest bedroom instead of calling an uber only to be back the next morning to get his car.

Why did it all feel so different now? Was it just the absence of the ring on his finger that had my blood running so hot for him, all of a sudden?

I’d thought it was “a dry spell”. Being a virgin in grad school isn’t much fun, and so that was my reasoning to accept that party invitation, and the many beers I’d been offered from the second I walked through the door.

I needed something to calm my nerves down. So I accepted the alcohol, even though I knew it wasn’t a good idea. Bottle after bottle, I used the “social lubricant” in an effort to become more social, but… was it really any surprise that it didn’t have the desired effect?

I found myself feeling skittish. Scared. Every sound seemed louder, and soon enough I was looking for corners to hide and when that didn’t work, I ducked into the first unlocked room I found.

Too bad it wasn't empty.

“This isn’t torture or punishment,” James brought me back to the present by adding his weight onto my bed again, sitting up against the headboard as he watched over my still unresponsive body. “It’s simply me, expressing concern over the fact it’s past twelve and you’re still in bed.”

Shit, was it that late already?

Reaching for my phone, I found out it was: 12:43 PM, to be more precise. He was right to be concerned. I never slept past 9 AM, not even on weekends.

“Alright,” I conceded, sitting up on my bed and noticing for the first time my attire. It was a loose shirt, not one I recognized, but it was comfortable and it smelled nice. Familiar. It smelled like…

“I had to put you in something else.” My head snapped up to meet his gaze, but he was avoiding my eyes. Scratching the back of his neck, he rushed to get the rest of the explanation out. “I don’t know how much of it you remember, but…”

“Oh my God, I puked all over you, didn’t I?” Mortification wasn’t the right word for what I was feeling. It went beyond that, it was embarrassment to a point I didn’t believe existed if I hadn’t been feeling it at that moment.

“Most of it was over yourself, sweetheart.” His chuckle did little to lessen my humiliation, but before I could figure out a way to escape this torment, his fingers curled over my wrist, tugging my arms down so I wouldn’t hide my face from him anymore.

“I had to give you a shower.” My breath hitched. The idea of him seeing me naked was just… so foreign, so forbidden…

It elicited images that I’d never configured before. And with the confusion and perhaps even the alcohol still in my veins, it didn’t take long for those images to become something else entirely…

Fantasies…

“Let’s get you off of these clothes, hm?” His hands would be anything but gentle as they undressed my tired body. I imagined them running all over my skin, taking notice of how warm I felt, but never stopping in one place for too long.

He wasn’t supposed to be doing this, after all.

“But you like it, don’t you?”

“Honey?” His voice snapped me back to reality yet again, and I had no way to hide it anymore. At least, not from myself.

I wanted James Barnes in a way no one should ever desire their father’s best friend.

“I’m such an idiot…” I opted to say instead of immediately revealing the thoughts running through my head, although they never went too far. He was still too close - in my house, in my room, and I was wearing his clothes.

“Because you puked?” He countered, probably trying to make me feel better, but only succeeding in making me more embarrassed, instead.

“No.” Throwing the covers away from me, I pushed myself out of bed, not wanting to be sitting by his side when I admitted this - and not even sure what I wanted to admit, anyway. I’d done a lot of stuff I wasn’t proud of in the last week, therefore I knew I had a thousand different things to confess before I’d need to jump onto the most obvious one.

“I don’t usually drink…” I started, and when he immediately nodded as if he knew exactly what I was talking about, I shook my head to force him to really listen. “No, seriously - It’s not that I haven’t had a few beers before. I’ve gotten drunk, I’ve thrown up…”

“Just not in front of your father.”

“Well, that goes without saying.” This time, I was awake enough to appreciate his little chuckle. It made me feel warm inside, how despite being at a 30% of my mental capacity, I was still able to amuse him. “No, I just… I don’t usually drink when I’m with people I don’t trust. It was a stupid mistake. It’s not going to happen again, I promise.”

I thought my little speech would stop whatever lesson he intended to teach me. I’d been through enough, considering everything that happened between us since the night before - but apparently, we weren’t on the same page.

Bucky’s P.O.V.

“No, it was a mistake. The only stupid thing back there was that idiot. Don’t make it easier on him, he doesn’t deserve it, goggles.” The furrow of her eyebrows only made her look cuter.

It really wasn’t fair.

“Goggles?”

“Yeah,” I sheepishly admitted, scratching the back of my neck. “‘Cause your beer goggles are seriously leaving your vision skewed.” The snort that preceded her fit of giggles had my stomach dropping in the same way a rollercoaster used to make me feel.

This felt dangerous - like I was treading uncharted waters, uncovering a completely new territory. But was there anything wrong in becoming best friends with your best friend’s daughter?

Nevermind the fact that my overprotectiveness over her felt anything but innocent. I’d never behaved the way I did last night - not even with my soon-to-be ex. But I kept insisting to myself that it was okay - Natasha had never behaved in such a way as to make me feel as if she needed me.

Perhaps that was our problem all along. Why be married if you’re better off alone?

“Listen to me.” I got out of her bed - trying to ignore how warm it felt. I almost wanted to lie down and take a nap, take advantage of her sweet perfume that seemed to cling onto her sheers. “Nothing that happened last night was your fault. You’re entitled to go to a party, drink some and get back home without fearing for your safety.”

All I got in response was silence. It made me sweat.

I wish I could know what she was thinking.

“Why did you, then?” The question fell from my lips before I could even realize what I was saying. It felt so out of place, she even had to question, “What?”

Taking a step away from her, I looked out of the window as I elaborated, “Why did you drink? Last night?” She didn’t seem to follow my train of thought, so I pressed, “If you don’t usually do this, what made yesterday so different?”

Of course, I knew it by now. But if she didn’t seem to remember, there was no point in pressuring her to admit it. It might as well have been my imagination… She would have never done that with a sober mind, so why take it into consideration?

“I don’t know,” came her answer, honest and clear. “Everyone was drinking. You know my dad is always on my back about not being a part of things and then you said the same the other day and it made me feel… Like I had to try harder.”

The air left my lungs at her confession, and the guilt had my heart pumping regret along my veins. It’s incredible how a simple comment can lead to irreconcilable decisions in the long run…

But I wasn’t about to let it all go to waste over nothing. “I never liked parties either,” I offered, looking down on my hands so it wouldn’t feel as personal as this confession also was, to me. “The alcohol always makes them seem more interesting than what they truly are.”

I saw her tilt her head in that cute manner of hers from the corner of my eyes, still not brave enough to raise my gaze to meet hers. “But you like to drink,” she pressed, slowly moving closer to where I was, by the window overlooking her backyard.

“Yes, at bars. Or with friends, in places where I feel comfortable. Why do you think your dad decorated the guest room?” She didn’t seem to know the answer, so I laughed. “For someone as smart as you, you sure don’t pay enough attention to what’s going on around you, huh?”

“Come on, let’s go.” She took my hand without hesitation, but still asked, “Where?”

I just shrugged, squeezing her fingers while I nodded towards her closet. “You’ll see.”

[starsreminisce]

“Biggest Simp in the land”, Rhysand, who talks so openly about his love for Feyre, who endured sex slavery to save the found family he loved, who called that found family “the court of dreams”, who literally died for the love of his life is probably the biggest romantic in the whole series. He didn’t even get in the way of Cassian and Nesta despite him having a prickly relationship with her. He loves love. He’s the one who organised and paid for Nesta’s mating ceremony. Yet I’m supposed to believe he was purposefully preventing true love for his brother out of spite?? Why would he do that? Rhysand would probably be overjoyed if he thought Azriel was genuinely in love and would stand by his side. But no, he called it lust and told him to fuck off. Because Rhysand knows what true love is and he didn’t see it in Azriel’s actions or in his mind.

I don't think you understand how much I love matchmaker Rhys. I HC that he and Nesta will call a truce to create opportunities for Gwyn and Az to get to know each other. I also HC that since Lucien has been meeting privately with Rhys after the SAF solstice, Rhys ends up offering advice on how to handle the unanswered bond. Lucien was alluded to being able to see confirmed mating bonds, and this tickles Rhys. He asks for reports on unconfirmed mating bonds once Lucien starts stepping more into his power (Feyre, darling, I am just helping Little Lucien hone this power of his).

Rhys would not have tried to shut down Feyre as quickly as he did when she asked why Lucien was Elain's mate, and then not only said Elain could reject it but also noted that many mated pairs try to make it work and that it follows Elain regardless.

Rhys knows Azriel, and he feels Az understands him best, whether it's due to his gifts or because they are more similar than most realize. Rhys also knows what it's like to be in Lucien's exact position, where he didn't want to push Feyre to accept the bond, letting her come to terms with it on her own.

Even though Rhys told Feyre he was aware of the bad moments she went through, he admitted there was no rhyme or reason to what was being sent down.

And she was with Tamlin through all of it.

And they used sex to sidestep their issues.

If Rhys can look at Nesta and Cassian—even in his own POV—he never really had an ill thought towards Nesta regarding Cassian, but he knows Feyre was hurting from her actions.

“Cassian knows it’s growing amongst the camps and is willing to do whatever it takes to fix it.” “He doesn’t know just how many there are.” “And perhaps we should wait to tell him. Until after the holiday.” Az blinked. I explained quietly, “He’s going to have enough to deal with. Let him enjoy the holiday while he can.”Az and I made a point not to mention Nesta. Not amongst each other, and certainly not in front of Cassian. I didn’t let myself contemplate it, either. Neither did Mor, given her unusual silence on the matter since the war had ended.

Rhys has also seen how an ill-matched mated pair looks like; his parents are prime examples, giving him an idea. I find it more interesting that when asked about whether Elain and Lucien match well, Rhys complimented Lucien on his loyalty and reminded that Az has been preoccupied by the same female for centuries.

Rhys is more aware of what's going on as he is actively engaged with Elain and Lucien separately, while Azriel admits that he doesn't track Lucien and he has been staying away from Elain quite vigilantly after the SAF solstice.

With that in mind, Rhys rarely intervenes. Stopping Azriel was one of the times he absolutely did.

[icedmetaltea]

Just lettin ya'll know I'm ok

(random irl stuff to journal below, keep scrollin)

Wanted to wait to come back till

1. I wasn't dealing with mega gender dysphoria, my masc/neutral days are few and far between but by god it's been nonstop masc/neutral days lately and been a lot of just hating my body (and myself in general)

2. got the ebt stuff figured out, which I haven't yet, my doc put in a ref for a different place to sign a thing, waited 2 weeks for them to call, only to find out it was the wrong place and now I have to wait for the next place to call... which like yea I'm worrying about food but talking about it in therapy has helped somewhat. She reassured me even if that doesn't work we WILL find some place that'll sign the form I need to be eligible again

3. I wasn't dealing with as bad of depression/anxiety which like... idk. I've definitely been doing better anxiety-wise but idk if that's bc it hasn't been as hot lately or I've been feeding myself better. I know I must've been eating under 1200s calories the past few weeks bc the scale finally stopped going down and I know for a fact my anxiety gets bad when I'm hungry so I think for about a month I was unintentionally starving myself, SO making myself eat at least 2 nutritious meals a day now

At the same time I think perhaps my pmdd symptoms are... reversing time schedules??? Usually my anxiety/depression gets way worse before period but now it seems like it's fine before and terrible during/after????? Makes zero sense but who knows. Also it's a couple days late now so health anxiety is going off the shits about PCOS or something again UGH

Making SOME progress with therapy, am able to be outside for 5 mins without feeling that horrific sense of dread so that's something.

I've also been coming to the realization that I may have some form of DID?? Not the type where you lose time/blackout/completely have entirely different memories and starkly different personality switches but I've definitely been noticing now that I've been putting more attention to it how I go into different "modes" and sets of interests throughout the weeks and I mean... it's not secret I have imaginary friends I talk to on the daily. I've had an issue figuring out where "they" end and "myself" begins since childhood. Plus I already deal with derealization/dissociation/occasional age regression so it's not out of the realm of possibility. May bring it up next therapy apt. Kinda worried to bc I never want to get rid of them and I'm worried that would be one of the goals, like... just no. I can't think of anything more lonely.

But yea just random stuff I needed to get outta my system, sorry about all the suicidal stuff, it's just really hard. The future seems so bleak. And if one thing sets me back, like doctor stuff, food issues, etc my brain is like "DEATH WOULD BE EASIER LOL" BUT there's a chance trump/a republican candidate won't win, a chance climate change will be reversed/humanity will adapt somehow, a chance I'll be accepted for disability and live a halfway decent life, and if not... well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. But for now there's food in the fridge, for now mom and dad are alive, for now we're ok.

[chalk-homunculus]

I think... in many ways, I really just want to feel loved, but I'm scared of accepting it, and scared of feelings I feel like I "can't control" so I end up taking an overly analytical approach and overjustifying things like natural curiosity to myself by calling things "just scientific fascination" and "morbid curiosity" (because in my mind, things I feel I am not "allowed to" experience, be curious about, or consider, seem like they're taboo, hence 'morbid'). I can't really fault others for thinking that's messed up. I've definitely ruined chances at receiving any sort of care and/or love in the past by not only pushing people away in delusional self-sabotage states, but also by treating people like equations or research projects. I sort of hate admitting to myself that I DON'T know or understand everything, and that doing so is impossible no matter how much I like knowing things, especially since my inability to just trust and take what people tell me at face value is in juxtaposition with that desire for knowledge and thorough understanding. It is actually me and my own doubt of people that drives me into over-questioning everything I DO know.

I also am terrible at paying attention to others. I know this. I forget that other people are, well, people, and that they won't know how much I care about them unless I express it and KEEP expressing it. Not just verbally but with things like asking people how they are doing- assuming they'll just tell me if they want me to know is something I do, but I know very well how easy it is to feel like a burden and close your troubles away from others in fear of being "too much" to deal with. I've reflected on this, and my unhealthy manner of expressing fondness and trust for others being that I'm far too quick to traumadump and talk about myself, in the past, but I've not been making nearly enough progress on it.

I think, I seek and crave for too much clarity without offering any myself, that has driven people away from me in the past, and it's purely my own flaws causing it.

Maybe with another year or two of reflecting, I will be able to handle something like a qppr without it falling apart because of my aloofness and inability to pay enough attention to others. Perhaps in half a decade, I could consider a romantic relationship, if I've made any progress with all that + trauma work, by then.

[ahxiang]

with the focus on the revolving door again in ep 16, i just want to say a little smth abt the door as an autistic person myself.

i know some ppl are frustrated with wyw's difficulty in using the door, saying it infantilizes her and that "she's a 27 year old lawyer, she's seen a revolving door before, she knows how they work." but the thing is, it's not abt her being familiar with revolving doors at all. at least not in the way you think. it's not "oh look at this lady, she doesn't understand this door bc she's autistic." it's a sensory issue.

autism affects our senses and the way we process them. what many allistics don’t understand about autism is that we’re not just overly sensitive to sounds and bright lights. we can be underly (is that a word??) sensitive to stimulus as well and have a hard time controlling our senses. this includes all seven senses. that right, seven. there’s the five you know, but also two you probably don’t: the vestibular sense and proprioception. these two have to do with body awareness, balance, and spatial orientation. that’s why many of us walk “weirdly” (if i ever catch you saying someone walks weirdly i am coming into your house and punching you in the face) or are clumsy. we have issues with our bodies in relation to the world around us and often have a hard time balancing. i walk into walls all the time and miscalculate and walk into doorways instead of through them. 

so it’s not that wyw doesn’t understand the social concept of a revolving door, but that they’re difficult to navigate through due to her vestibular and proprioceptive sensory issues. i myself have a hard time with revolving doors! so pls no more “this makes her look dumb” or “this is so unrealistic”. if wyw is bad representation and is stupid for having problems with a revolving door, then i’m an unrealistically stupid autistic that walks into walls.

[godsfavoritescientist]

Biting the bars of my enclosure about autistic ford tonight. There's something about him using vocabulary and turns of phrase that seem "outdated" or "pretentious" that feels so painfully genuine to me. When people say he talks like that just to "try to sound smart" I wish I could explain what it's like to be so ostracized from your peers growing up that you spend all your time reading instead, to the point where you pick up your way of speaking from books instead of from people. And then what it's like for people to call you out for "talking weird" over and over again, not able to wrap their heads around why the fuck you would choose more archaic or technical or formal words than the simpler ones that surely come to everyone's minds first. What it's like to have to dedicate a sizable chunk of attention to filtering through every single word you say out loud in real time before you say it, to make absolutely sure that it isn't a word people will judge you for using or make fun of you for using, just so you'll have a chance of being taken seriously. Learning through trial and error how to filter out the words that other people don't think are normal or casual enough for the conversation, even though for you, the word choice that's "natural-sounding" enough for them is the third or fourth word you came up with when searching for the right way to phrase something in your head. I wish I could explain just how long it takes to say fucking anything after spending a lifetime doing that during every single conversation, and how repetitive and long-winded you end up being when you spend so long coming up with alternative ways of saying every little thing you ever think. And I wish people realized that, at the very least for autistic people and autistic-coded characters, speech that's seen as pretentious is really just the way they talk when they're not putting in the extra effort to filter through every word they say just so others will take the time to listen.

[candycryptids]

😇- What's their best trait?

👿- What's their worst trait?

for Tuesday and Chuu

“Miss Chuu’s best trait? Mmm… You said this is an interview for your retelling of the Warriors of Light and their journey, right? I’d say it’s her unshakeable resolve. She decides she’s going to do something, and she doesn’t give up until it’s done. Ah… I’m not allowed to speak more on Miss Chuu without her presence, my apologies, mister Levraut.”

“You broke into my house,”

“Your lovely wife let me in actually,”

“To wake me up from my nap and interrogate me on my assistant,”

“Interview, Mademoiselle, not interrogate. Though I am sorry for waking you, your eyes were open so I assumed-”

“Ah-ta-ta. You wanted to know Two’s best trait right? Adaptability. Any environment, any obstacle… he’s got brains enough to figure the way through most anything. And failing that? He knows a top notch engineer in Magitek to kit him with the right tools to overcome his few shortcomings. Hey wait did you fucking call me a mad gazelle, you lop-eared scab?!”

“Thank you for your time, both of you. I have just one more question before I consider this interview complete and I let you both go back to your.. erm, busy schedules. What would you say is each others weakest trait?”

“I knew it! This IS an interrogation! Two, don’t-”

“Ah, that would be Miss Chuu’s paranoia, mister Levraut. Most of her other traits net positive gain,”

“Watch your mouth, Two.”

“That is.. ah, her paranoid trait has served to pull her out of many situations she would have landed in had they not afforded her foresight and caution to approach most situations.”

“Two’s worst trait is how I just can’t seem to keep mad at him when he finds and exploits loopholes in whatever rules I’ve set for him. And last week I asked him to bring me lunch, and he was nowhere to be seen for nearly six bells.”

“… Miss Chuu, if I may, you were in Azys La, and you called me via Linkpearl to bring you specifically egg sandwiches from the Bismark, even utilizing the Aethernet it takes time… and when I arrived at your last marked location you were nowhere to be found.”

[Duo Oc Ask Meme !]

[greppelheks]

I've really actively been working on myself for the past ten years, only to realize the way I was trying to be, just ain't for me.

I've gotten rid of my social anxiety, I've learned how to do small talk and be really good at it, I've learned how to be in groups and how to communicate, I've learned how to connect with others, step out of my comfort zone and get rid of my fear of trying new things.

And now I'm like huh... I'm actually happiest at home in my comfort zone. Its not that I can't do all the things I could never so anymore, but I don't really want to? Its kinda peaceful.

[aeide-thea]

oh right i forgot the real reason i stopped listening to broadway clips was that i've got this whole enormous miserable knot in my chest abt having been too socially anxious to do anything with my once-upon-a-time-very-gorgeous voice once i got spat out of the safe little nest of my high school, and like, most of the time i forget that knot even exists, but when i listen to the sort of music i used to be part of making (proper opera but also showtunes) it's like. this whole fast-forward feelings journey thru 'oh right that didn't actually go away, it's still right there in my throat, just calcified' to 'oh okay we tugged the loose end and it's unraveling and actually it was keeping contained a whole rush of tears like aeolus' bag of winds in the odyssey…'

[marshmellowtea]

it’s actually insane to think about how fast getting the fuck away from anti ideology helped alleviate my pocd specifically. like, obviously it didn’t cure it, i still have intrusive thoughts of that nature from time to time, but constantly being vigilant that i was consuming fiction in the “wrong” way was so detrimental to me and unlearning the idea that reading or writing a damn fic was the same as actually abusing a child helped me out SO much when it comes to csa related intrusive thoughts. like, i’m no longer a panicking suicidal mess when i have them because i think i’m doomed to hurt a child, and that’s a good thing.