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thesunisatangerine · 6 months

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against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part six

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: explicit descriptions of violence, blood, and death

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 3.3k

You had to get out of there.

Tremors shook the ground as another shell made impact somewhere far to your right but it was close enough that the explosion left your ears ringing. You flattened your back further against the fallen wall behind you when you heard the unmistakeable sound of gunfire, the rubble that cut into your skin barely registered in your mind from the adrenaline that rushed through you. But the cacophony of noise amalgamated into something continuous, something malevolent and cruel; something that promised death in its wake.

Bullets embedded themselves in a column, a wall, a body–everywhere–and fine pieces of debris flew and pelted against the exposed skin of your cheeks and against your helmet. Your eyes watered from the fine powder of pulverised cement and the oppressive heat, while your lungs were smothered by smoke and a choking stench–something like freshly-laid asphalt mixed with the distinct, rancid smell of burnt human flesh, sulphuric and sharp.

Through lidded eyes you witnessed the depravity; the extent of humanity’s appetite for senseless destruction and anarchy. It was total chaos–no, it was worse than that: it was butchery and brutality at its finest; a type of hell on earth.

All around you were bodies upon bodies, men and women alike–children. Their faces, frozen and pallid, permanently bore imprints of terror and agony; their crooked fingers and still eyes fixated to the sky imploring in violent judgment–resentful and anguished in their silence–the unspoken question:

Why?

Everything overwhelmed you all at once: the sight and the smell made your stomach churn to no end. Even when you heaved the remnants of your stomach to the ground, the nausea remained, pulsing and gnawing.

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you brought your camera to your eye and you willed the shaking in your bones to still.

You took a shot.

Another round of bullets splattered to a nearby wall and this time, you threw yourself front-first to the ground and you felt the rhythm of your heart reverberating against the mud. And a sinking feeling hit you. You’d bore witness to many conflicts, faced mortal peril, and was familiar to death like it was an old friend. Each time you were in such a situation, hopelessness never got the better of you–it was like you’d always known you were going to make it out each time.

This time it was different, you could feel it in your bones. You were going to die here and it wasn’t a matter of if, just when and how.

But you had a job. If you were going to die, you would die being the mouthpiece for the ones who’d already been silenced–from their premature deaths or from the hand of the power meant to protect them or both–to show the world what they’d suffered, what they’d sacrificed.

With that in mind, you steeled yourself. You loaded your camera with another ring of film, fingers stiff from the cold and marred by blood and mud, and you captured the scene.

Repeat.

There were people screaming, running, clamouring for survival. As you moved with them, you kept an eye out for other survivors who needed help to get out of there. You scanned the faces for the familiar ones of Jones and Gilda but they were nowhere to be seen. You’d lost track of them after the initial explosion and the chaos that followed so the only thing you could do now was to look for them as you went and hope for their safety.

Meter by meter, inch by inch, you moved slowly away from the direction of gunfire. You were farther ahead now but the gunners were still dangerously close, still close enough to be able to catch up to where you were if they continued their pursuit, so you remained crouched and cautious for any sound that could indicate danger.

When you came across the rubble of a fallen building–freshly destroyed by artillery from the smoke that came from it–you heard a whimper. It startled you; the softness of the sound barely pierced through the ringing in your ear but when you peered under a slab of concrete braced by a rugged beam, you caught sight of a scene that shattered what was left of your heart.

In the shadows, big eyes that you could not mistaken belonged to a child shone with terror, a little girl that looked no more than ten years of age, her mouth partly open in fear. You could discern another person next to the child but they weren’t moving at all and from the blood smeared on the girl’s cheek, you had a sinking feeling that the other person was dead.

Gunfire echoed somewhere behind you and you flinched at its closeness. How did they get so close so fast? You needed to get the both of you out of there. If you could save this child’s life then maybe, just maybe, your life was worth something after all.

You raised both of your hands up and spoke gently, hoping the little girl would be able to understand that you were there to help as you stooped to fit through the gap. The child hesitated and receded further back into the rubble so you tried again as you inched closer to where the other person laid unresponsive, patient despite the ever-closing sound of shots being fired.

You reached the other person–a woman–and when you placed two fingers against her pulsepoint and found no rhythm, you bit your quivering lip and looked at the child, chest heavy. And as if the little girl finally understood that you meant no harm, she inched towards you and placed her small hand in your open one. With a firm yet gentle grip on the girl, you guided the both of you out of the rubble.

Once outside, you carried the little girl behind a wall, heart breaking when you felt her shiver and at the fact that it took little effort carry to her for she weighed so little. And now with light and cover, you inspected the little girl.

To your relief, other than the trail of flaking blood that originated from the crown of her head and on her cheeks, the little girl looked like she didn’t sustain any other physical injuries. Satisfied for the time being you began to tend to her, gave her water and what little food you had on you, and then wiped away the blood.

After she finished, you detached the velcro of your bulletproof vest and unbuckled your helmet before you put them on the little girl. Then you hoisted the girl up on your back, leaving your camera dangling heavily on your chest.

You managed to sneak across the district without being noticed but you knew the danger was never far away. A little farther on, you began to recognise key landmarks that let you know you were close to the base you came from. So even when the muscles in your legs protested for you to rest, you pushed on.

Not a moment later though did loud shots fill the air and immediately, you fell to the ground, feeling fine rubble and shrapnels cut into the side you landed on as you manoeuvred your body so that the child wouldn’t get hurt. The little girl cried out and adrenaline coursed through your veins, instinct driving you to keep the child safe so you pushed the two of you against a nearby wall, your back to the open space while you shielded the child with your body, her head safely caged between your arms and chest.

You craned your head over your shoulders to figure out where the shots were fired but then a feeling of lightness passed through you followed by a growing thickness at the back of your throat. You coughed, the force of it made you keel forward, and as you looked down you saw fresh blood splattered on the face of the girl, her eyes wide with horror as she looked up at you.

Then you felt it, a burning sensation that enveloped the entirety of your right side which left you cold. When you looked to your side your shirt clung to your skin, soaked with blood.

No.

You sputtered again and you tried to breathe but the pain only intensified and instead of feeling relief, the act smothered you–it felt like you were drowning. Then everything began to blend together: the shapes lost their edges and some images doubled, but the light seemed to intensify on its own, swallowing all in its wake. Then you sagged forward and the ringing in you ears, too, blared unceasingly.

No.

You must…

The child…

Wait.

Alexia–

“–are you okay?”

You started as Derek’s voice brought you from your reverie, your mind someplace else that you’d already forgotten but the feeling that you were missing something important lingered behind in the back of your mind.

“Huh?”

“Honey, your brother’s been trying to get your attention for the past minute. Are you alright?” The familiar voice of your mom brought your focus to her. She sat at the head of the long table while Derek opposite you, and you found twin pairs of blue eyes looking at you with concern. Your mom stood, chair scraping against the tiled floor as she did and she made her way towards you. She put a palm over your forehead once she was close enough before she asked, “do you have a fever?”

“Mom, I’m fine. I’m just–” You began but suddenly, a wave of exhaustion came over you which left you cold. It was as if a sheet of ice was put over you and you felt the coldness cling to your bones, weighing you down as your body slowly began to freeze over. “I’m–I’m just tired. I think I’ll rest up now.”

When you moved to stand, staggering slightly due to the weakness in your knees, Derek snatched your hands and clung to them, and you looked at him in alarm, eyes wide.

“Please, don’t. Don’t.” He said through gritted teeth, the corners of his mouth drooped low in a pained grimace, blue eyes glazed over and brows furrowed in a silent plea.

His obsecration confused you and you were about to ask him why you shouldn’t rest if you felt tired when your mother placed a hand on your shoulder, her grip gentle yet firm. You turned to her and when you found her gaze, she wore the same expression as your brother.

“You’re brother’s right, honey. Just–please, just stay with us for a bit more.”

What was going on? Why weren’t they letting you go?

Another wave of fatigue doused over you but this time, pain erupted from your chest. So intense was it that it nearly made you keel over the table, nails digging into its hard surface as you tried to catch your breath but with each inhale the more it felt like you were running out of air.

“I’ll–I’ll join you in a bit. I just… I just need a nap.” You staggered to your feet, pulling your hands away from Derek’s grip with the remaining strength you had and brushed off your mom’s protest.

As you passed the full-body mirror just beside your bedroom door, you saw your reflection, haggard and pale, and with her were the familiar silhouettes of the people that haunted you… your mother and father. They stood there behind you–your mother to your right and your father to the left–but you only found an empty space where they stood when you whipped your head back to look for them.

So there you stood, rooted in front of the mirror as you soaked their images in but for some reason, your couldn’t quite discern their faces. They were blurred; it was as if someone had swiped their thumb over the freshly laid ink of their image and made their features indecipherable.

Longing prompted you to reach out a hand to try and trace the lost edges of their faces but instead of meeting the mirror’s smooth surface like you expected, your fingers sank into the mirror like it was made of water. Quickly, in fear that it would hurt you, you retracted your hand and you watched in awe as the mirror image went still again, back to the reflection of yourself and your parents.

Then out of curiosity you plunged your hand again into the mirror and instead of feeling pain, you felt… nothing. The sensations in your hand in the mirror stopped as if it had ceased to exist completely.

Would it soothe then the pain in your body if you stepped into it?

The thought tempted you and you stepped forward, ready to sink into this silver miracle, but something stopped you–a weight on your shoulder pulled you back from the mirror. You staggered backwards, caught off guard from the force of it, but when you looked back you found nobody however this time, when you returned your attention to the mirror, the reflection of your parents was gone.

Emotions bubbled in your throat, bitter grief and burning confusion a familiar taste on your tongue. Where did they go? Why did they leave you? And as these questions filtered through your mind, another wave of exhaustion doused over you, its weight was unbearable. You needed relief, and soon.

You were ready to step into the mirror–into oblivion–but it wasn’t there anymore. In fact, everywhere you looked there was nothing, just negative space as if the light had dissolved all existence but you. You looked down and you saw your reflection on the still water you were apparently standing on.

It was so still, so peaceful, and you feel so heavy. It would be easy to just sink into this blissful nothingness–this silence–after… that’s right, after having witnessed the revolting boil of humanity’s thirst for blood. Yes, that was it, the reason you were here: you were here to forget.

The longer you stared into the water, the more your will to remain standing frayed.

Not a moment later, you let yourself be plunged downwards into the cold water. Into nothingness.

You woke with a start, breathing sharply as you did, the sensation of falling still with you and the memory of the dream you just had lingered. It was about… what was it?

When you opened your eyes, you found golden light and you squinted at the stream of the early sun that found its way through the gap between the heavy curtains. Your cheek was warm against Alexia’s bare back and you relished the way her muscles shifted beneath her skin as she breathed, still deep asleep.

With her so close like this a sense of peace and calm washed over you, the kind that only Alexia’s presence could provide. You turned your head slightly and shifted closer to her, pressing a soft kiss on one of her shoulder blades before you nuzzled the nape of her neck where her scent was most prominent.

You sighed as you breathed her in.

“What are you up to back there?” Alexia’s voice, rough and heavy from slumber, met your ears and the question elicited a small laugh from you.

“Nothing. Just getting comfortable.”

Alexia hummed then she murmured, “come here.”

You moved as she began to turn and disappointment filled you from the separation but when she pulled you into her embrace after she settled on her back, the disappointment quickly faded away. And when she kissed you, soft and languid, everything melted away except for the tender warmth of Alexia’s lips.

You were content.

Suddenly, a gnawing feeling seeped into the edges of your mind and, little by little by little, apprehension filled you. There was something you’d forgotten, somewhere you needed to be.

You pulled away from Alexia’s lips. “What time is it?”

“Don’t go.”

Her answer jarred you. You lifted yourself up on your elbow and considered Alexia, confused as to why she would say such a thing. She knew you had to go. How could you not go? Where else could you possibly be? So you asked her as much.

“No, you don’t have to. Please.” Alexia placed a hand on your cheek, her eyes glassy. You sighed, turned your cheek away from her touch, and extricated yourself from her warm embrace. You stood at the foot of the bed and regarded Alexia again who was now sitting up, the sheets pooled around her waist, her chest bare, shoulders hunched forward as she looked at you. You only shook your head before you went into the en suite bathroom to get ready.

Once you got in the shower you, unsurprisingly, thought of Alexia and your confusion returned twofold. Why was she making this difficult? She knew you had to go. You already told her…

At that thought, you frowned as you tried to remember. When did you tell her? Why did you need to leave? The questions were beginning to make your head hurt so you left the shower, wrapped yourself in a towel and headed to the closet. In there, you found your stack of simple white clothes. You picked a white shirt and a matching pair of jeans and you made your way to the bedroom door.

As you passed by the bed, you saw Alexia just as you left her and from where you stood, you saw how small she looked. And those eyes… they shone with something you could only name as plea, the tears in them now in danger of falling.

Your chest ached and so did your head.

You shook your head and made your way to Alexia, pressed an apologetic kiss against her temples, then you moved to the door.

You opened it and an abyss greeted you, a world of no outlines, shape nor colour, just a brilliant white that called to you. Its pull was magnetic, like a tide that wanted to sweep you away, but there was something keeping you in place, an invisible tether and it was anchored to the woman sitting in your bed.

“Please, don’t go.”

You had one foot out of the door when Alexia spoke with such gentleness you couldn’t do anything but look over your shoulder. The sight of her crying made the pounding in your temples unbearable and the pain in your chest blazed anew, excruciating and cruel. The world blurred and warmth slipped down your cheeks.

Why were you crying? Why was this difficult? You had to leave, you were about to miss something important.

“Alexia, why?” You sobbed, clutching your chest. It hurt.

She was out of the bed now, right beside you, and she reached out and cupped your face with one hand, the other went to your hand on the door handle. Her touch that used to soothe you, that used to bring you peace and clam, sent pain to every nerve in your body. You gasped, your chest was in danger of bursting and your knees lost their strength. And then you remembered why you needed to leave: you needed this pain to disappear; you had to get better.

Finally, your knees buckled under your weight but Alexia was there to catch you, her body strong and firm, and oh, so warm.

“Alexia, please let me go,” you sobbed into her arms.

Everything hurt. But she held you, unyielding.

“Stay. Please, stay with me,” she whispered in your ear and the words were followed by another wave of pain. This time, you screamed in agony and clawed at Alexia’s shoulders to get yourself away but still, she didn’t budge.

“I got you. I got you. I got you,” she repeated as every nerve in your body screamed at you. Everything coalesced into a singular, never-ending noise but Alexia’s voice pierced through the veil like a silver lining, a life line that you held onto as you were washed away into an ocean of light.

#ap11 #not proofread #mine #my writing #a/n: sometimes it just hits you: the magnitude of man's madness. where does it stop? when? who will pay? why?#cant think anymore right now but let me know what you think about the story so far #apologies for the mistakes i wrote this in sleep deprived mode ill fix them later #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader

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fazedlight · 4 months

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Asynchronous (Rift era, pre-Crisis, not nearly as much sc angst as the gif implies)

Where am I?, Kara thought, her body shaking as she pushed herself off the floor she had apparently crashed into, trying to stand. How long was I unconscious?

Her head was killing her. Pain was a rarity under a yellow sun, and in this case the feeling was hard to shake - it was just all too reminiscent of not long ago, when she was trapped in kryptonite, fighting burning lungs and a blinding headache while fighting heartbreak at the same time.

But she needed to not think about Lena right now.

Kara searched her mind for the last thing she remembered, Brainy’s words transmitted to her ears, telling her about the capabilities of the alien creature she was fighting. The creature was generally docile enough - but in a panic, it would thrash and quake, and it had the unique ability to…

Where… When am I?, Kara thought, looking around at the building whose ceiling she had fallen into. The creature could send her anywhere in time and space - forward or back in time, across the planet or galaxy, it didn’t matter. The good news is that the effect would be temporary in nature, lasting a day at most, before she snapped back into place, something about attenuated vibrations. “Time is like a rubber band,” Brainy had said, though Kara was certain she could hear pain in his attempt to simplify the explanation.

Kara heard the buzz of a portal behind her, the quick cock of a gun. “Don’t move,” came the familiar voice. “These aren’t ordinary bullets.”

Kara turned slowly, deflating under the hard eyes of her ex-best-friend. Lena was tense and angry, her finger resting on the trigger, her other hand on a tracking device. My heat signature, Kara thought, Guess she has kryptonite bullets now.

Lena’s eyes narrowed as she reached to her belt, before tossing vibrant green cuffs in Kara’s direction. “Put those on.”

Kara lowered herself to the floor, taking the cuffs, feeling the burn in her hands. She couldn’t really fathom Lena trying to kill her. But after the disruption of Lena’s Myriad plan, and now being held at gunpoint… “Lena, what are - what are you going to do?”

“How do you know my name?” Lena growled.

Kara’s eyes widened. Anywhere in time and space… “Who do you think I am?” Kara asked.

“Is that a joke?” Lena asked, as Kara’s mind revved into overdrive. “You think you can come back, with cartoonish S on your chest, and we’ll forget the Third Reich?”

Fear sank into Kara’s stomach. Earth X. “Lena, I know this looks like-”

“Through the portal. Now.”

-----------

Kara found herself sitting in an interrogation room.

Her mind was scrambling for what Barry had said had become of Earth X - she remembered that, in the aftermath, the Third Reich had fallen to the Resistance, which was trying to rebuild a non-fascist society. But she knew the balance had to be fragile. The Reich had its proponents.

But Kara didn’t have long to think, before another familiar face walked into the room. “Winn!” Kara said, jumping up.

“Sit down,” Winn growled back.

Kara tensed, shaking off her confusion as she slowly sank to her chair, as Winn gave Lena a skeptical look. Right, he’s not the Winn I know either…

Lena shrugged. “She knew my name, too.”

“You’re both my friends,” Kara said softly, “On my Earth.”

Winn ignored her words, stepping around the table to take a seat at its corner. “We need to know if the Führer is still alive.”

“He’s dead,” Kara said, meeting Winn’s eyes. “As is his wife.”

Winn’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“I was sent here by accident,” Kara answered. “At some point in the next day or so, I’ll snap back to my own Earth.” If you don’t kill me first, she thought.

“And how do I know you’re from another Earth?” Winn demanded.

“You met my sister,” Kara whispered, thinking back to Alex’s stories when they were separated on Earth X, years ago. “Alex Danvers. On my Earth, she’s your friend too.”

“You,” Winn said skeptically. “I’m friends with you.”

“I’m not from your Earth,” Kara said. “I’m not asking you to trust me. Just let me live long enough to go back to my own time.”

-----------

Kara fidgeted as she sat alone in the room again - watching, waiting, itching against the bounds of her kryptonite cuffs.

She was certain that Winn and Lena - possibly others - were debating what to do with her. Hopefully they don't just kill me, Kara thought, searching her mind for how she might prove she’s not from their Earth.

But the door opened again.

Lena stepped in quietly, eyes on Kara. But the anger was subdued from before. She was curious. “Lena,” Kara whispered.

The wariness wasn’t gone from Lena’s stance, but she sat across from Kara. “What’s it like, on your Earth?”

Kara smiled. My Lena would be curious about the other Earths too, she thought. “The Third Reich ended in 1945. We’re… far from a perfect world. But we haven’t had the struggle that you’ve had.”

“And you and I are friends?”

Kara’s expression faltered, as she glanced down at her hands. “We used to be. We used to be best friends.”

“What happened?”

Kara bit at her lip, unable to look Lena in the eye. “I betrayed you. You hate me now.”

Lena’s brows furrowed. “That doesn’t seem to be the sort of thing that would help your cause.”

“I’m not going to lie to you again,” Kara said. “I’ve done too much of that. The other you, I mean.”

Lena frowned, and Kara could see some of the tension in her body rise again. “What happened to my Earth’s Kara? How did she die?”

“Her heart was dying from too much solar exposure,” Kara said. “I took her up into the atmosphere before her body… it started a nuclear reaction.”

“And the Führer?”

“Oliver from another Earth killed him.”

Lena’s eyebrows briefly raised. “Winn met him, apparently.”

“Yeah. My sister was there too.”

-----------

Kara itched at her bonds again, wishing there was a clock she could check. I don’t know how much time would be left anyway, she thought to herself. But at least I’d know…

She was surprised to hear the door open again. Lena walked through with a cup and some bread, placing both in front of Kara on the table. “You must be hungry,” she said.

“Thank you,” Kara murmured, leaning forward and beginning to eat.

“What did you lie to me about?” Lena asked. “On your Earth?”

Kara swallowed harshly. “I- I kept my kryptonian identity from you. Kryptonians and Luthors don’t get along.”

“Luthors?”

Kara’s brow crinkled. “Are you a Walsh, here?”

Lena nodded slowly.

“Your mother…” Kara asked. “She’s alive?”

Lena’s eyes narrowed. “Yes.”

Kara smiled. She got to be raised by Elizabeth, she thought. “Are the Luthors alive? On this Earth?”

“No,” Lena said. “Alexander Luthor was the last Führer, before Oliver Queen. There was a power struggle.”

Kara nodded. “You were raised by the Luthors. On my Earth. So when I hid my identity, and became friends with you… you didn’t take it well when you found out.”

Lena looked on curiously. “The secret? Drove me to hate you?”

Kara shook her head. “There were other mistakes I made. In the aftermath. I… hurt you pretty badly.”

“So what did I do next?”

“You tried to brainwash the world.”

Lena’s eyes widened. “Why?”

“To make everyone kind.”

Lena’s brow raised. I guess that resonates, Kara thought. In a world full of fascists…

“I can see the appeal,” Lena said.

-----------

Kara was fascinated. And bored.

Her only company was Lena, on and off. She was grateful when Lena came in with food, and over the moon when Lena came in to exchange Kara’s kryptonite cuffs with far less painful power cuffs.

But her moments with Lena were few and far between given her apparent other responsibilities, leaving Kara staring up at the ceiling for long stretches of time.

She found herself torn, thoughts of “When will I be able to go home?” warring with “I hope my Lena looks at me like that again someday.”

-----------

“Are you happy here?” Kara asked. “Are you- are you with anyone?” Lena smiled. “I met him a year ago,” she said. “We butted heads on technical projects. Trying to rebuild our society’s infrastructure. But something more came of it.”

Kara smiled. “Jack?”

Lena’s eyes widened, and she nodded. “Jack.”

Kara nodded too. “I’m glad you have someone.”

Lena tilted her head curiously. “Were we more than friends?”

“You and Jack? Yeah, on my Earth-”

“No,” Lena clarified. “You and I. What were we to each other?”

Oh. “No,” Kara said, shifting uncomfortably. “We were only ever friends.”

“Is that all you wanted?”

“I just- don’t think it’s relevant to you-”

“I don’t know what I’m like on your Earth,” Lena said, leaning forward on her arms. “But if someone hurt me so badly that I try to brainwash the world about it, I think that person must’ve meant something to me.”

Kara bit her lip.

Lena’s brow quirked. “If your plan is to never lie to me again, that seems like the sort of thing you should tell me. Other me.”

Kara laughed, her heart twinging with joy and pain. “If we ever get along again, I’ll tell you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

-----------

“Why are you trusting me?” Kara asked curiously.

“What do you mean?” Lena asked, in a tone that was more coy than confused.

“You just seem less suspicious of me than before,” Kara shrugged. “In the beginning.”

Lena’s lips quirked, taking a moment to consider Kara. She then raised her hand, twisting it slightly, causing a small yellow glow to appear. Kara noted in shock that there seemed to be a glow passing over her own body, too. “What’s happen- what are you doing?”

“Just making your temporal shift visible,” Lena said. “I scanned you after our first meeting. I can’t prove you’re not from this Earth, but I can prove that you’re not where the universe expects you to be right now.”

“I’m sorry, but-” Kara sputtered. “But are you using magic?”

“Lena doesn’t have magic on your Earth?” Lena said.

“I can’t even get my Lena to believe in magic,” Kara said with a laugh. “Rao, this is amazing.”

Kara glanced up, and found Lena smiling.

-----------

“How long have I been here?” Kara asked.

“About 12 hours,” Lena said. “Honestly, I’d let you go. But Winn said it might cause a panic anyway, if too many people see you walking around.”

Kara sat back for a moment. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

-----------

It was at the 17 hour mark - just after Lena had brought in more food - that Kara’s hands began to glow. “What are you doing now?” Kara asked.

“Nothing,” Lena said, leaning forward to eye the glow. “I think you’re being pulled back.”

“Oh,” Kara said, glancing up at the alternate Lena. What should I say? “Thank you,” Kara murmured. “Thanks for being good company.”

“Give me time,” Lena said gently.

“Time?”

“I’ll come to my senses,” Lena said, thinking to herself, nodding. “I- I know there’s baggage. But at some point, I will come to my senses. I’ll come back to you.”

Kara smiled. “I hope so.”

“Good luck, Kara Zor-El.”

-----------

Kara found herself falling. No longer cuffed, no longer in a dark dusty room - but bathed in sunlight and breathing fresh air. Earth-38, she thought gratefully.

She blinked, shooting upwards in the sky again, hearing shouting in her ear. “Kara?” came Brainy’s panicked voice. “Kara, are you still there?”

“I’m here,” Kara gasped, looking over National City.

“Must’ve lost you for a minute,” Brainy said. “The creature is by the arboretum. We’ve finished making the power net, J’onn is flying it over.”

Kara glanced to the north, but her ears were fixating somewhere southeast, locating a familiar heartbeat. We’ll figure it out, Kara thought, clinging to Earth X Lena’s words.

We’ll get there, in the end. “I’m on my way.”

#I wrote this while extremely sleep deprived so I'm sorry if it doesn't make sense #haven't done a ficlet in a while so it feels good to stretch my legs??#supercorp #mel writes ficlets

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loserdiaz · 3 months

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our secret moments in a crowded room

buck/eddie | explicit | 3.7k words

"You came in today with Buck," says probie while they're taking out the trash after lunch. "I noticed you guys arrived in the same car."

"Oh yeah, we carpool pretty much everyday." Eddie shrugs. "My house is on his way." It's not. It's actually ten minutes off Buck's way on the opposite direction of the station.

And besides, Buck's staying over at Eddie's most of the time anyway. He's basically moved in, by all accounts.

“Oh! So you’re, like, really good friends, huh?”

Eddie's pretty sure his eye must be twitching or something. Like seriously, does this guy have any clue at all about anything in life?

“Yeah, kind of.” He answers warily. "You could say that." or: In which a new probie at the station has a crush on Buck, Eddie is… a little bit done with the guy, if he’s being honest. And Buck is having the time of his life.

read on ao3

#i wrote this while sleep deprived idk #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buck x eddie #buddie #buddie fic #buddie fanfic #my writing #april writes #911 abc #911 on abc #911 fox #911 on fox #911 fic #911 fanfic

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nonamenonamenon · 2 months

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in your original timeline, the sorcerer had known he never had much of a chance compared to the brothers that you lived with in the house of lamentation.

compared to the 7 demon brothers, who you had a close-knit relationship with, and who you'd formed pacts with because of your unwavering tenacity and kind heart, who was he to compete for your affection against them?

when possible, he constantly grabbed the chance to give you the comfort of another human. he knows it better than everyone elseー how lonely it gets being the only human in a place filled with otherworldly beings.

he felt that it was all he could give you that the brothers couldn't, anyway.

the great sorcerer, solomon the wise, constantly reduced to a sulking mess whenever you'd rejected his plans due to the brothers always coming first in your eyes.

whether it being levi needing a player 2, or asmo needing a lab rat for his new cosmetics, he'd always been pushed aside for the brothers.

when everything was turned on it's head, and when the both of you were sent to another timeline, he saw this as his chance.

he felt too guilty taking advantage of a situation as painful as this (to you, at least.) as a chance to gain your affections away from the overprotective brothers.

he feels only an iota of guilt in his heart when you visit his bed chambers at night, afraid to sleep alone, and tearing up due to missing the brothersー your version of them, at least.

softly, he runs his hand through your hair, and strokes it, as if he was soothing you. you quickly fall asleep next to him, his warmth only serving as extra comfort to you, and he stares.

how long can he keep doing this? how long can he have you? before everything is back to normal? before he's back to playing second fiddle? he knows this game of house won't last forever.

but, for now, he'll treasure it.

he'll treasure coming home with you, groceries in hand, and cooking dinner together in the kitchen.

he'll treasure doing laundry with you, making a mess of the floor in the process as you splash water at each-other.

he'll treasure your movie nights, where you're cuddled close to him because of the cheesy devildom horror movie he (purposefully) picked out.

before he loses it, he'll treasure it all. he'll keep it close to his heart, as the one thing he refuses to have ruined.

solomon shuts his eyes, dreaming of a universe where both of you come home to each other everyday, where he isn't second to the brothers, and he falls into a deep sleep.

#obey me solomon x reader #obey me solomon #solomon om #solomon x reader #i've barely played nightbringer and i'm only on like chapter 30 of the original om game. Bye #forgive me if i have a million things wrong but whatever #rawdogging this #wrote this delirious and sleep deprived at 6 am so apologies for any mistakes

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hermitthebee · 3 months

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I’m not a writer by any means but I wanted to share a silly Charlastor Au that won’t leave my head:

(Set during episode 7) When Charlie and Alastor make their deal the spell accidentally gets fucked up. The deal worked, but it also created a bond between the two demons. Resulting in them being able to feel the other’s emotions. Neither demon knows what went wrong and neither can remove it.

They both (Alastor ‘if I show vulnerability for a single second I will die’ Altruist especially) don’t like the situation But there’s really no time to focus on it with the impending extermination. So they just adapt to it. Alastor nicknames the foreign emotions as feedback.

To Alastor the connection is just like radio feedback. It’s always present, at least a little. But usually He can block it out and carry on as normal as long as the feeling isn’t too strong. (He does NOT worry when Charlie is anxious/upset and definitely doesn’t try to help by disquietly sending comfort through the connection.) He’s a lot more concerned with keeping his own feelings in check.

Charlie for the most part doesn’t get a lot of feedback from Alastor. At least nothing identifiable, it present but faint. When she does it’s either a deliberate action to send a specific feeling to her. (Often one of comfort or pride). Or a quick, but intense, flash of something that disappears a seconds later (often before she can even identify what it was). She always makes sure to check on Alastor after these slips, making sure he’s okay.

During the extermination when Alastor is injured, Charlie is overwhelmed by such an intense fear that she nearly doubled over. This panic doesn’t leave for the rest of the battle. She leave’s almost as soon as the fight is over to find him. (Much to the confusion of the other residents). Charlie finds him mid breakdown and immediately works on calming him down, at least enough to deal with his injuries.

Afterwards Alastor acts more closed off towards everyone. He’s more determined to remove the bond than ever.

But Charlie isn’t convinced, she gets more feedback now than ever. And damn it Alastor is her friend and she refuses to let him distance himself without a fight.

(I’ll never write an actual fic but I’ll gladly share a more details if anyone likes this idea)

#hopefully this makes sense #I mostly wrote this sleep deprived at 4AM #I’m by no means the best writer but I love Charlastor and there’s never enough content about it #So I figured I’d add my own ideas #It stems from my desire for Alastor to be forced to be vulnerable and receive the comfort he desperately needs #alastor x charlie #charlastor #radiobelle #hazbin hotel

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momentomori24 · 2 months

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I swear to God, Twitter being able to accumulate so many brain-dead, malicious, pseudo intellectual low lives all in one place at the same time is a phenomenon worthy of being studied under a microscope in a science lab. And no, that is not a compliment.

Thankfully people have already spoken out against this bullshit-- the fact that people needed to is already maddening to think about-- but as someone who got the basic gist of what happened literally yesterday I'll also put my voice out there: Don't you fucking dare try to paint Hbomb as a murderer over this situation.

Somerton may be a lying, misogynistic plagiarist and conman, but he obviously doesn't deserve to die and while I do make fun of the guy, I genuinely hope that he continues to have a life after the dust has settled on everything. Not on YouTube or any social media platform for a long time at least, but just a life nontheless. I don't wish what he's potentially going through on anyone, and I hope that he makes it through this. But regardless of if he does or doesn't-- and God forbid he doesn't-- none of this is Hbomb's fault. It's not his fault, or Kat's fault, or Jessie's fault (because apparently there's people blaming her too cuz WHY NOT), or anybody's fault. All they did was call out his actions, hold him accountable for the harm he's done. They have done nothing to deserve having to carry this on their shoulders should the worst happen. They did nothing wrong. They didn't kill James (he's not confirmed dead yet either btw). They are not murderers. And to the people saying they are: say those words out loud, listen how they sound like, and re-evaluate. Just cease.

And to people like this:

''Oh I'm not blaming him for anything I'm just blaming him for what his audience did because according to HIM you're responsible for your audience'' Yeah, you people can shut your mouths too. Of course you're responsible for your audience, and that includes Hbomb too. However, your tiny, godless little monkey brain can't see why your argument is still rubbish even with that in mind. The difference between James, Internet Historian and Hbomb is that Hbomb never promoted problematic behaviour to his audience. If you promote problematic shit like harassment or misogyny or racism, then yeah, you're absolutely responsible for how your behaviour influences your audience. But that's not what he did. He made it very clear where he stood on those things, literally stating that ''if anyone were to harass Somerton on his behalf they are worse than him and will not see the light of heaven''. He's done his part in making it clear that harassment is wrong, so if someone went out of their way to go against that and harass James anyway that doesn't reflecf on him at all. Also, what the hell do you mean ''hatemobbed'' to suicide? I don't doubt there are people who went to extremes because those bad apples always exist, but most of the things I've seen are valid critisisms, memes and call outs about that guy. If holding people accountable for their actions and poking fun at them a little counts as 'hatemobbing'' (which has Filip calling his critics a ''lynch mob'' energy tbh) what the hell do you call actual hatemobbing then? Do we just let people continue being shitty because calling them out ''damages their mental health'' or ''drives them to suicide'' then? Is that a world you want to live in?

Same thing goes for people like this:

Criticing someone for their objectively bullshit content and wanting them dead are two seperate things. What the actual hell is wrong with you. The plagiarist in question is a person. Those ''harshest critics'' are still people. And because we're people, we care. I'd rather James pump out more plagiarised slop than commit suicide. I'd still hate him for it, but I'd prefer him being alive over the alternative any day. We all do. None of us would sleep easier knowing he's dead just because he wouldn't be ''committing the cardinal sin of putting out a 'pure content mill' video'' because someone taking their own life is horrific-- especially Hbomberguy, how dare you even try to imply that?

And this gets me to the reason I'm furiously typing all this out in the first place: Hbomb is the fucking victim here, so stop treating him like he isn't. He tried making things as right as possible by compensating those that were burned by James through a video where he revealed everything there needs to be known about the guy so that less people fall victim to his actions and lies. To just ignore the harm James was causing while he had the evidence to prove it and platform too big to threaten into non existence should he speak out would've been bad. So he didn't. He did the right thing by sticking with the people James had stolen from, giving them a voice and making them known after they've been scrubbed from the picture by decidedly being uncredited for their works or bullied into silence. He shouldn't have to deal with this for doing the right thing. He shouldn't be labelled a murderer for doing the right thing. He shouldn't have to have the death of a man on his conscience for doing the right thing. People claiming otherwise are obviously wrong, but I can't imagine what all this must feel like right now. Because even tho they're wrong, guilt isn't a rational thing, and I know that if I were in his position I'd still feel like a morally bankrupt individual were the worst to happen even if I knew that it was not my fault. This isn't a funny story. So to add to this dumpsterfire by using it as a prop to bash on a creator you don't like and immediately write Somerton off as dead even when he's not even been confirmed dead yet to do that shows how little these people actually care about the thing they're talking about. They don't care a guy potentially killed himself-- what they care about is using it to paint Hbomb in a bad light because they don't like him. Here they are, posting memes and ill jokes about this very delicate situation while barely a day since the news broke out had passed. It's opportunistic, it's sickening, and literally the exact thing he criticised in his video when talking about 'content mills'. Like, I know none of these clowns bothered to actually watch it, but have some self-awareness. And some shame too, while you're at it.

This long story short: I'm writing this to contribute to the narrative not getting twisted to make Hbomb out to be the villian. Same goes for everyone else. Don't let these people paint them as the villians. If I see another person pull this shit again I will literally bite you and shred you into salad and spit you back out because I hate you so much and I mean that wholeheartedly.

To Hbomb: you will never see this but if you do, take care of yourself.

To the asshats this post is about: Delete your account. Cease all together. Stop talking about this. Just leave him the fuck alone.

#hbomberguy #james somerton #this post took me ages to finish and really grinds my gears #i would not survive on that hellscape with people like this holy shit #really hope this situation turns out for the best #i wrote this while i was frustrated and sleep deprived so apologies for unnoticed grammar i'll correct it later #i'll be keeping my eyes peeled for any updates on this situation this is actually getting scary

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vodid · 6 months

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a short story by yours truly, while half asleep.

#sibling said this is the same energy as the 'how hungry' horse #it is worth mentioning when i wrote that that i was sleep deprived for days at that point

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mayrine · 11 months

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wha- WHAT

imagine this: ranboo dies lovejoy starts playing

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onyanjune · 4 months

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fem yandere x gn reader

cw: implied dub/noncon at the end, my first time writing yan so… yeah.

notes: she’s an oc of an original fic i’ve had in my drafts for a few years now. she isn’t even a love interest but i realised that she has so much yan potential that this basically birthed itself. so i had to get it out there lest it remain a dusty af draft.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭! who’s been your best friend ever since you reincarnated into the body of an extra in a light novel that you planned on reading. At least, until before you unceremoniously died and woke up at the funeral of the character whose body you were currently possessing.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭! who cried when she first saw your confused self tumble out of the coffin at your funeral, the cold fingers and glassy eyes of your character’s corpse still fresh in her memory.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭! who took it upon herself to look after your safety and wellbeing. The family of the character you reincarnated as took care of her when she had to flee her kingdom, so the kind and loving protagonist felt compelled to return the favour.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭! who persuaded the prince, her first love interest, to let you stay at the palace for protection. After all, the assassin who had mistakenly killed you in her stead may try to take more attempts on your life.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭! who convinced herself that the fact that you were in closer proximity to her now was merely a convenient bonus. How was she supposed to spend time with you given her job as the princess’ governess otherwise?

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭! who ignored the prince’s advances in favour of sharing afternoon tea with you instead. Lately, the only respite she’s been able to get was in your company, where your endless musings and intrigue of the world around you managed to drown out the ghosts of her family seeking vengeance. It was as if you were a newborn babe, looking at an entirely new world.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭! who hates the growing intimacy between you and your personal guard. After losing her family and home, no way was she going to lose your time then your affection to a measly knight.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭! who comforts you as your fury barred its fangs when it was revealed that your guard was an assassin. He was desperate for money, she croons in your ear, the ever-compassionate protagonist blaming the vice of gluttony for leading your guard astray. Oh the sweet, gentle protagonist. How incapable of wrongdoings she was.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭! who locks you away once she wins back the throne of her fallen kingdom, conquering yours and the one that tried to kill her in the first place.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭! who dreams of the family she was going to start with you. Her own beloved siblings were as plentiful as the stars in the heavens, so it was only natural that her children grow up in a large family as well. You don’t have to worry about a single thing! She’s been researching about fertility and impregnation magic and technology so just leave everything to her. ♡

#x reader #yandere #yandere x you #original character #yandere oc #female yandere #gn reader #isekai #yandere imagines #anime and manga #gave up towards the end lol #wrote this when i was sleep deprived #˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ tea #(for my own reference)#嗯嗯

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dreamilysporadicpervert · 6 months

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S. Aizawa | Why was I angry...?

Brain came up with a thing after a very restless nap. If anything doesn't make sense, let me know. Art belongs to aleksnerd.art on instagram.

CW: female reader, vaginal penetration, unsafe sex, student/teacher For purposes, the reader is legal and on birth control (I have no idea how to add warnings, so good luck?)

MINORS: DO NOT INTERACT!

I've never really gotten along with my homeroom teacher, but I find myself trying to remember why as I grip the sides of the locker room bench, my body jolting with the impact of his hips into mine.

I'm currently the living definition of 'face down, ass up', and Aizawa's fingers are digging into my hips hard enough that I'm sure I'll have bruises tomorrow. Oh well.

A small part of me is afraid of what will happen if someone catches us like this. A very small part. The rest of me is desperate for him to continue, my pussy swallowing his length greedily with every delicious thrust.

We've already made quite the mess, a combination of my own juices and his cum running down my legs. It's also splattered all over the bench and the floor.

I let out a soft moan as he drives even deeper inside, stretching my walls and massaging my g-spot just right. You'd think it was his job, with how efficiently he does it.

I manage to peek back over my shoulder, and I find him watching me, seemingly reveling in my reactions to his movements. There's a twinkle in his eye that tells me he's not even close to finished.

I try to meet his thrusts with movements of my own, desperate to feel myself tip over the edge again. I know it won't be long until I have what I want, but I'm impatient.

My legs start to tremble as I approach yet another orgasm, and I know Aizawa can feel it coming because he smirks and lets out a prideful huff.

Just before I hit the edge, he slows down, giving a sinister chuckle as I instinctively whine and press myself against him. He leans down until his chest is pressed against my back, his breath tickling the shell of my ear.

"You're more agreeable when you're like this," he whispers in a low, husky voice. "Do you want more?"

I whine in answer, and he pulls almost all the way out, until just the tip of his dick is nestled inside. He growls into my ear, "If you want it, say it. Tell me how much you want it."

I huff softly, my thoughts still reeling. "Please, don't stop. I want it... It feels so good. Please." I beg for more, looking back at him, feeling his hot breath on the side of my face as I do.

"Good girl," Aizawa rumbles softly, leaning back up and giving my ass a playful slap before he starts fucking me again, harder this time.

I moan in a mixture of surprise and delight, my eyes rolling back in ecstasy as he gives me exactly what I wanted.

I feel the coil tightening in my stomach, and my legs start to tremble again, matching perfectly with the quivering of my walls around him.

As I get close, I feel his grip tighten and his breathing become shallow, making soft, desperate sounds as he feels his own orgasm creeping up.

I clench down around him as my release slams into me in waves, and I feel his dick twitch as he fills me to the brim with his hot cum.

This time, he slows down until he stops, and he reaches forward to caress my hair. "Are you alright," he asks, his voice surprisingly soft.

It takes me a moment to answer, my cheek almost glued to the bench with drool. "I... I think so," I answer, my own voice soft and hoarse.

My chest is still heaving from the intensity of my orgasm, and I am almost positive that if he wasn't still holding me up, my knees would give out.

"...We made quite a mess. Let me get you cleaned up," he says, still in that soft voice. He pulls out, pulling me gently into a standing position.

I lean back against his chest, his strong arms supporting most of my weight. We stay like that until my breathing goes back to normal and my legs stop trembling.

Without a word, he leads me over to the shower and turns on the water. After he checks the temperature, he gets in with me, helping me wash my hair and my back.

Normally, we're at each other's throats, but now it's almost like we're two different people. I still can't remember why we were arguing earlier, or how I ended up bent over the bench with his dick rearranging my insides.

I feel a bit awkward as we shower and clean up our mess from on and around the bench, but I'm afraid to break the silence.

I look over at him as he zips his hero suit back up, and he catches me looking. He smirks and reaches over to readjust my uniform, his touch lingering a bit.

Suddenly, he speaks up. "You still have to write the essay on the pros and cons of your quirk and your plans for your future as a hero," he says, his voice returning to its normal tone, as if nothing happened.

As he says it, I remember why we'd been arguing: I didn't want to do the same essay that I've done over and over before. I feel stupid for it, but also oddly... thankful? I nod, confirming that I will do the essay without further complaint.

He watches me stand in silence for a bit, and his eyes soften just a bit before he does another thing that's out of character: he pulls me in for a hug.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he whispers into my ear. "It was better than I'd imagined, (Y/n)."

I look up at him, processing at dial-up speed. I blush when it clicks. "Maybe... we could do it again sometime," I ask softly, feeling a bit hopeful.

"I thought you told me you couldn't read my mind," he whispers back with a playful smirk. I bury my face into his chest and he just holds me for a while.

By far, this is the best day I've ever had.

#bnha #bnha smut #mha #mha smut #aizawa shota #aizawa shouta #aizawa #aizawa smut #eraserdaddy #aizawa x reader #student x teacher #idk why we're in the locker room #my brain thought and i wrote #i am sleep deprived

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vegasol · 4 months

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«3! 2! 1! Happy new year!» Everyone screams excitedly all around them.

Then, as they tend to do, all the couples kiss. And for a stupid second, it feels like the whole world consists of only couples. It makes Eddie feel like there’s a giant spotlight on him, pointing him out in the crowd. Look, there’s the single guy. The virgin, with no one to kiss.

He looks at Steve, who’s right next to him. Steve’s got his arms around Robin, she’s got her arms around his neck, and they’re just done giving each other a kiss too, a big ol’ smack of puckered lips. Eddie wonders if he should look away, but then they release each other and Steve turns to look at Eddie, catching him looking.

So Eddie just hovers, awkwardly frozen in place by Steve’s gaze.

“You alright, Eddie?” Steve prompts, reaching out a hand to place it comfortingly on Eddie’s lower back. It feels so warm, makes Eddie feel all fuzzy. Or maybe that’s the champagne.

“I don’t have anyone to kiss,” he blurts, tongue loosened by alcohol and way more honest than what is good for him. “I’ve never kissed anyone before,” he adds lamely, because his drunk self apparently thought that was an important amendment to be making.

“Uhh..” Steve stares at him, confused. Like his gears are grinding away ever so slowly. He’s had plenty of the champagne too, Eddie knows.

“You could kiss me? I don’t mind,” Steve offers, and it suddenly feels simple. Yeah, why shouldn’t he? Steve’s just offering to help, it doesn’t have to mean anything. He kissed Robin too, so it’s no big deal, right?

He lets Steve’s hand on his lower back pull him in gently. They’re the same height, no need for Eddie to bend his neck at an awkward angle or anything. He just steps right into Steve’s space, their lips suddenly just an inch away from touching, their breath suddenly mingling.

I don’t know how, Eddie is about to say, but he doesn’t have time to before Steve closes the rest of the gap. His lips are soft and warm and plush as he puckers them against Eddie’s. It’s nice. And Eddie thinks that’s going to be it: just a sweet, chaste, innocent kiss among friends, before Steve will pull away again. He’d be okay with that.

But instead of pulling away, Steve presses his lips harder to Eddie’s. In surprise, Eddie parts his lips, to draw a breath, to say something maybe, and again Steve surprises him by catching Eddie’s bottom lip in his. Eddie’s breath stutters and he forgets everything about everything. He forgets that people are watching, he forgets that this wasn’t going to mean anything. He forgets how to stand on his own two legs, so he sinks into Steve’s arms, holding on to him desperately as he lets Steve deepen the kiss.

It's like fireworks are going off, not just in the sky all around them, but inside Eddie, too.

When Steve finally breaks the kiss and lets him go, Eddie feels like a changed person. New year, new Eddie. Now that he’s tried it, he never wants to stop kissing Steve.

And Steve, King Steve, he’s gotta know, the way he’s looking at Eddie grinning all smugly. It must be written clearly all over Eddie’s face.

“Maybe you can return the favor next year,” Steve says, and Eddie can only nod.

“Uh huh. I will.”

#look; i spent way too long on this and am going to bed way too late because of this; not to share #I fully wrote it sleep deprived at 1-2am so please don't hold any typos or grammatical errors against me gfjdklshfs #hope this can bring a bit of new year cheer to y'all #steddie #steddie drabble #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve/eddie #steve x eddie #stwgdailyprompt #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #stranger things fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie holiday fic #vega writes #my writing #happy new year everyone!

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moodyseal · 3 months

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I got too deep into the Schema Theory while writing the paper for one of my exams and it got me thinking about Apollo's coping mechanisms yk

Basically the gist of this theory is that, in the eventuality that their primary needs are not satisfied during their formative years, a child might develop a bunch of different behavioural schemes in their adult life (which are too many to be listed here oh my god) that are a direct reflection of how the parent failed them during childhood

For example, one of these schemes is emotional deprivation, which is a person's tendency to emotionally distance themselves from other people due to the fact that they believe they won't be able to comfort them, and it's a scheme that's formed due to the guardian not satisfying the child's emotional needs. Basically it's formed through a "If my parent couldn't do it, then how could others?" sort of mentality

Another one, which I believe is very relevant here, is the sense of failure, which originates due to the guardian's immensely overbearing nature and the continuous dissatisfaction with the child's efforts. As an adult, the child in question believes that they're inept at everything, even if evidence points to the contrary, because of the fundamental belief that they hold that they're a failure

(Does it remind you of anyone?)

Now, these schemes tend to go hand in hand with modes, which are essentially coping mechanisms that the person uses to deal with whatever life throws at them and whatever negative emotion these schemes bring on. One of these modes is the *squints* scheme overcompensation? Anyway what it says on the article I got the info from is that basically people who use this coping mechanism tend to do the opposite of what their behavioural scheme tells them to do. If they're ashamed, they put down others. If they feel like a failure, they boast. (Again. Who does this sound like.)

AT FIRST it seems like a good coping mechanism but it's actually not, because the overcompensation leads to this vicious cycle where the more a person overcompensates, the more the scheme worsens. In Apollo's case, the scheme we're examining here is his sense of failure; in his overcompensation mode, to avoid feeling incompetent he tries to constantly put himself in the spotlight, drawing attention to his talents. However, he does it in such a ridiculous way (perhaps actually in some form of self-sabotage?) that the people around him insult those talents, call him a failure, and thus worsen his feeling of worthlessness.

(This might be tied to the punitive scheme as well, maybe? Considering how keen Zeus was on punishment, Apollo might've developed this scheme as a result, though over the centuries it could've shifted its focus from everyone to just him idk. The change between "I'm punishing everything and everyone for being so stupid, even my own son + this Ptolemaic god who breathed wrong in my direction" to "Actually I'm chill" seems pretty suspicious to me tbh)

ANYWAY all of this is to say that everything he does is so intrinsically tied to the damage Zeus did to him that it hurts. All his behaviours all his coping mechanisms. Everything

The arrogance is not just a façade he built over the years to hide his feeling of unhappiness and guilt!! It's quite literally an abuse response!!!!

And yeah maybe Leto was the one who spent the most time with him and Artemis and who took the most care of them so technically she should be considered his figure of attachment instead of Zeus but then again. How much time did Apollo spend beside her compared to the time he spent at Zeus' side, after the twins became Olympians? What do a few moments with her in a year do against entire centuries with him?

Leto's influence never really mattered. He was doomed since the beginning

#or rather not doomed just. really sad. thank god he's got friends now #shamelessly wrote this so i can memorize it better #it's a very fascinating theory though #i really recommend a read #btw some of this might be wrong bc a) i study medicine and not psychology and b) it's 4 am #actually almost 6? god i'm sleep deprived #anyway please don't mind it #it was just for funziessss!!!#trials of apollo #lonely thoughts #might delete later idk i'll see if this still makes sense in a few hours

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shibaraki · 8 months

Text

TROU NORMAND ┊ BAKUGO KATSUKI

tags: GN reader, fantasy au, bakugo is a dragon shifter, desc. animal kill + blood, reader eats meat, alcohol consumption, fluff, courting behaviour, language barrier, hand feeding, unedited sry

wc: 1.2K

The firepit crackled violently in the distance. Your nose wrinkled at the familiar smell of death carried in with the draft.

“Bakugo?” you called, climbing out from the deeper, cramped section of the cave and heading toward the entrance. Stalactites hung from the ceiling, trinkets tied around each individual spike dangling above. Firelight flickered up the walls and glittered amongst them.

Bakugo has already tucked his wings away and settled into his skin. He is beautiful, as both a dragon and a man. Born into the world wearing a golden crown. He is large, in body and spirit, he is all dense muscle and spitfire, with eyes glowing crimson no matter what form he takes.

You’ve not been with him long but since learned his habits. Bakugo only ever took this form to prepare his kills, to carefully parse through the flesh and pick out the bones with lithe human fingers despite not needing to. You study him from the corner, his form muddied in blood and hunched over spilling viscera lost in concentration, and not for the first time, you think dazedly of the implications of that.

“What’s that?” you ask as you start towards him with a damp cloth.

He growls at your abrupt movement in his periphery, dragging the four legged carcass closer to his half clothed lap. His expression shifts. Every muscle pinched under the command of his instincts. “Oh, now you’re acting like a child,” you tell him, tiptoeing around the thin rivulets leaking into the cracks in the cave floor. His pupils dilate and shrink into thin slits, pulsing almost as you kneel beside him. “I’m not going to steal it. Really. Come here”.

A familiar noise reverberates through the empty space. It is a gentle warning. And yet it is inquisitive. Even like this the dragon deigned to use the human tongue. The odd inflections never quite fit in his mouth. Instead you’d speak while he listened and somehow conversation was hardly ever one sided. Never before had you met a person able to convey so much with the quirk of their brow alone, but Bakugo did exactly that, and often.

“Easy. Not so fearsome when you have food all over your mouth,” you turn his head, fingers splayed along his strong jaw, thumb curled over his chin. Bakugo allows this with a slow blink, another chuffing sound stuttering in his chest that he appears inwardly mortified at.

You take the damp cloth and wipe the drying blood from his cheeks. Fractures form and it flakes away, bit by bit. You repeat the notion until he is clean, and long after, just for the excuse to linger.

“There,” you murmur, satisfied as you sit back on your haunches. Your thumb brushed over his jutted bottom lip, pressing into the seam, seeing a flash of razor sharp teeth. “You needn’t hunt for me too, you know. There is a small town by the mountainside I could visit. I’m well enough now”.

By all rights you should have been torn apart in the unforgiving winter. Your memories of that night are hazy. Buried under sleet and snow, as your body had been when the dragon found you. You recall only the instant he took you delicately into his maw and carried you here, where you subsequently woke hours later, tucked into a soft crevice of his hoard.

Your icy heart thawed at his heavy handed kindness. You never did understand why he saved you, but you were grateful. There was nowhere for a person like you to return. So when he never discarded you, ate you or forced himself upon you, you remained.

Bakugo makes another terrible face. His wet fingers smear red streaks around your wrist and he tugs you to his side with the soft reluctance of someone who wants something but doesn't wish to admit they want it. “Okay, okay. I won’t. This is safer,” you concede, leaning into him. Your head tilts on the slope of his shoulder as the tension dissipates and he begins tending to the meat.

He always feeds you first. You accept the morsels one at a time, held to your lips between his thumb and forefinger, chewing it down to fine paste before swallowing. The staring while you eat no longer unnerve you. You merely try not to smile at how proud he looks after every pleased noise you make.

“This is good,” you say. “Do we have water left?”

You miss him the second he moves away, stretching toward a shallow alcove full of well crafted bottles. Bakugo hoarded the strangest things. Unlike the rest, this one in particular is half full. Definitely not water. Regardless he nudges it into your hand and drapes his arm around your lower back. Intricate designs are carved into the glass. Waves, shells, crudely depicted merfolk. You slowly bring the open top to your mouth, breathing in the sharp scent, and take a sip. It tastes of smokey peat fires, cured skins and winter; harsh against your palate and sawing your throat on the way down.

“Gods, that’s—strong!”

Bakugo’s nostrils flared. He withheld a laugh while you coughed, the neutral facade cracking as you playfully swipe at him. The scales smattered around his temples take on an iridescent blush and he grins handsomely. Heat licks at your face. Desire, longing, knot low in your belly and it aches like hunger. You’re certain Bakugo wouldn’t be tactile if he could help it. Over and over his hands have sought some part of your body, as if guided by afterthought, and every time he has looked at his hands in betrayal.

There’s some sick satisfaction in watching him be at war with himself—and in being the cause of it. You're still unsure whether he regards you as a pet to nurse or a true companion, if the there-and-gone touches over the past few weeks held meaning as they do for you. A selfish part of you doesn’t care what it means to him, so long as he doesn’t stop.

You eat in relative silence, sharing the remaining dregs of the—whatever he’d procured on his travels. Rum, you’d hazard a guess. With your stomach full and your limbs loose you slip from his shoulder into his lap, squirming a little as you get comfortable.

“Hey,” you murmured, turning to squash your cheek against his thick inner thigh. Bakugo peeks down at you, poised to take another sip. Hums as you bring his free hand to your head and he begins to pet you. “You’ve been taking care of me, all this time. Why? Doesn’t it burden you?”

You don’t miss the way Bakugo’s breathing hitches. The hand absently scratching at your scalp stilled for only a moment before resuming. He considers your words as he swigs, swallows, grasping for time to formulate an answer. Then he bends, agile spine curved like a bow to bring your faces closer. His eyes are determined, the hue somehow richer than before, and you shrink back from the warm breath that spills out from parted lips.

“No. Mine,” he rasps, nudging his nose against your cheek and your temple, like a beast might nuzzle the palm of their master. The palm crowning your head slips to firmly grip the back of your neck. “Stay”.

An encompassing feeling swells in your chest. Your throat becomes tight. The entire spectrum of human emotion floods to the very tips of your toes and you wonder if you never starved of touch before this simply because you hadn’t known what it meant to be sated.

You lift your chin to reciprocate. Fingers flex at your nape, wanting to keep you still but ultimately letting you rise. With little knowledge of the significance, you bump your noses together and echo, “Yes. Stay”.

#bnha x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo katuski x reader #wrote this while sleep deprived idk #q’d

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