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esouliie · 3 months

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AN ANGEL FLUNG OUT OF SPACE

(natasha romanoff x fem! reader)

– synopsis | falling in love with your childhood bestfriend might have been one of the best yet scariest things to happen to you. but what happened in the summer of ‘97? what happened to your darling natalia?

– warnings | little fluff & a lot of angst, kind of au (no avengers), child abuse, mentions of: attempted suicide, self harm, body mutilation, burn marks, severe malnourishment (18+)

– notes | this was supposed to be a oneshot but, as usual, i spiralled out of control and now it has two chapters… potentially three? merci, mon alice, for the header @wandasgf ♡

[ word count: 4.4k ] Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

JULY 1992

The sun had begun to set and yet the warmth of the day still lingered. The glow of the street lamps cast an amber hue on the pavement, outlining the familiar houses that lined the quiet street. The air was filled with the scent of summer, a blend of fresh grass and the distant fragrance of blooming flowers. In one of the houses on the street, a family gathered in their backyard for a summer evening barbecue. The smell of sizzling burgers and sweet barbecue sauce wafted through the air, and the faint laughter of children chasing each other echoed, while the adults lounged and swapped stories.

Meanwhile, across the field, two girls were beneath the sprawling branches of a willow tree. A patchwork quilt, covering a section of flattened grass, held a tea set long forgotten as they had rounded the thick trunk, the littlest one already perched on the wooden swing.

“Push me higher, Natty!” You exclaimed, voice full of glee. You were only a small girl with wild hair and a toothy grin, but your spirit was boundless.

Natalia smiled brightly, her own eyes sparkling with joy at her friend's excitement. “You’re already so high you could see the Empire State Building.” She teased, her laughter blending with the sound of chirping crickets amongst the long grass in the distance.

“I know!” The wind whipped against your face, and you couldn’t help but let out a joyous laugh.

Inseparable since Natalia moved in next door, your friendship blossomed under the protective branches of the willow tree across the street, where a swing hung proudly in the breeze. Its gentle leaves whispered secrets that only the two of you could hear, dreams of the future etched upon its bark, as unadulterated laughter rang true with its sway.

She whistled as your head swung back, the carefree spirit of the summer evening enveloping her in its warm embrace. And as she gazed up at the tree’s opening, she found twinkling stars above and the imaginary distant silhouette of the Empire State Building visible on the horizon. She couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder at the vastness of the world she had yet to see.

"Whoa, this is amazing." You shouted, feeling your stomach drop with each swoop. "Let’s swing all the way to the moon!"

“Maybe not the moon,” She pushed harder, her hands gripping the thick plank of wood beneath you, “But let’s try for the stars."

You shouted with as much euphemism as your little body could handle as the swing reached its peak. Weightless under its motion, you were suspended between the sky and the ground.

An angel flung out of space.

"I can almost touch the stars!"

She smiled. Despite her hands being rubbed red raw from rope burn, she was happy. She was always happy to be with you. While she had her younger sister, Yelena, whom she cared for deeply, it wasn't the same as having you. A friendship of her own creation. She yearned for the summer days when she could run around like a child with you.

“That’s good, that means you’re almost home, little star.” She shouted, her accent slipping out ever so subtly.

Carefully, your hand stretched toward the night sky – a poor attempt to touch the boiling balls of gas above.

You both were happy.

It’s sad what became of you both.

All too soon, reality intruded once more. The distant sound of a heavy door opening cut through the air, a gentle reminder that all good things must come to an end. With a final push, Nat stepped back and held onto the plank, commanding it to a halt. She knew what was coming.

At first, you didn’t notice her disappear around the wide trunk. But the gentle clink of pottery against one another told you enough as you followed in her footsteps.

“Natalia,” You whined, hands on your waist at the sight of the older girl cleaning up. “No, it’s your turn to swing.”

A whistle pierced the air, its familiar shrill sound gaining both of your attention. The sound of home time. “Natalia, come. Time to go.” Her mother’s voice carried just as loud, urging the redhead to leave playtime behind.

She turned to you, her expression softening as she looked down at your smaller frame. With a mixture of reluctance and understanding, she pulled you into a tight embrace, the warmth of her arms wrapped around you, the gentle press of her lips against your forehead lingered for a moment before she released you and ran off into the gathering dusk.

Alone now, you watched as the field fell silent, the only sound being of the insects hidden in the dark. The swing on the other side croaked gently in response to the light breeze and the redhead’s swift departure. For a moment, you considered sitting on it, perhaps pushing yourself back and forth on the points of your feet. Instead, you find yourself standing there: the absence of your best friend ever so palpable, a void that sunk deep into your bones.

Without Natalia by your side, the swing held little allure, and you decided to make your way back home. With your large basket in hand, you reached your own doorstep and paused, casting one last glance towards the girl’s house. The lights were on inside, casting a warm glow against the darkness outside.

You almost missed it, but a glimpse of red hair appeared out the window, followed by a hand waving at you. As soon as you waved back, she was gone. Window shut. Curtains drawn.

You went to bed with a cheesy grin plastered on your face.

You’ll see her again tomorrow.

AUGUST 1997

“Natalia, stop fighting me on this. You look like a popsicle.” You laughed and shoved the girl playfully from where you were sitting against the willow tree.

“It's cool.” She defended, as her hand tugged at her blue-dyed ends.

The years had rolled by, but the memories of that swing under the willow tree lingered on in your heart. As the seasons changed, so did your life. You made new friends, explored different interests, and navigated the tumultuous journey of adolescence. Being older than you, Natalia was already in high school, but she didn’t go to any in the district, as she was home-schooled and sometimes had to leave for a while. She never really told you why.

Even so, your bond deepened and an unspoken connection developed between you both. Under the tree's comforting shade, you discovered a warmth in your heart that went beyond friendship. Those lazy summer afternoons spent laughing, dreaming, and sharing secrets created a bond that you wanted to explore further.

You’d never felt like this before for anyone.

Only Natalia.

Life as a pre-teen was so confusing.

You snorted, “Yeah, okay, you leave for a month and come back with half of your hair a different colour.”

But it wasn't just the hair colour that captivated you. It was the way she carried herself - a wisdom wise beyond her years. She was the same goofy redhead of course - her eyes sparkled with mischief when she laughed at you, her hand held the same warmth in yours as you walked together. But there was something else lurking beneath, a sadness more notable than her usual melancholy. You noticed the slight furrow in her brow, the way her fingers tapped nervously against each other.

Something was weighing on her mind, something significant. So, you asked, “What’s wrong?”

She let out such a soft sigh that you almost missed it.

“I’m leaving.”

Dread washed over you, and a knot formed in your stomach. "Again?"

She had just returned the other day. Your mind raced with questions and uncertainty and the tears already clustered your lash line. You, a child with no need to mask her emotions, no need to hide her soul, unlike Natalia, who always seemed to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders, her laughter always accompanied by a subtle sadness, as if she were trying to conceal her true feelings behind a façade of cheerfulness. But today, as she sat you down with a gentle tug, her eyes betraying a mixture of resolve and sorrow, you sensed that she could no longer hide what she'd been keeping inside.

"It's for good this time," she murmured, her gaze fixed on the ground as if unable to meet your eyes. "My parents want to go back to Russia. They don’t like it here.”

Though unspoken, you sensed the weight of what she meant. They don't like you. It stung, a silent acknowledgement of the barriers you've fallen blind to. The odd glances from her mother, the subtle disapproval from her younger sister—all pieces of a puzzle you've tried to ignore.

Her admission hung heavy in the air, the reality of separation sinking in with each passing moment. She drew closer, her delicate fingers brushing away the tears that cascaded down your cheeks. You lifted your gaze to meet hers, noticing the weariness etched into her features, the telltale signs of tears already shed hours before.

“I’ll miss you.” She whispered, forehead flushed against yours, before leaning down to kiss the corner of your lips. An almost kiss. One of many shared underneath the cover of the willow tree.

You tasted saltiness and noticed the fresh tears that had now sprung from her eyes.

“I'll miss you too. Forever.”

The next morning, you stood outside her house, as the sun cast long shadows over their lawn. It was your last full day together so you arrived bright and early, not wanting to waste any time. You reached out to knock on the door, but your hand hovered, hesitant. The house remained still, as if holding its breath, waiting for something that would never come. You glanced around, searching for any sign of life, but the windows stared back at you blankly, revealing nothing but darkness within.

“Natty?”

Nothing.

A sinking feeling gnawed at your stomach as you realized they must've left in the night, slipping away like shadows fleeing from the dawn. The same way they joined this neighbourhood.

With a heavy heart, you turned away from the empty house, feeling as if a piece of your soul had been torn away with their departure. The world already seemed colder, lonelier, devoid of her warmth and laughter that once filled it.

In the days that followed, you found yourself drawn to the tree – yours and Natalia’s safe haven. You sat there, surrounded by memories, as the rope swayed in the wind - empty and forlorn. Though still magical, the willow tree could no longer shield you from the loneliness that settled in your heart, as the summer months stretched on endlessly, a blur of empty hours filled with longing and regret.

That night, you slept with a permanent frown, a puddle of tears staining your pillow.

You won’t see her again tomorrow.

APRIL 2001

From afar, she looked different. Almost unrecognisable.

Eighteen years old and she was here: barely an adult yet taller and slimmer, with a cascade of auburn curls framing her face that replaced the short blue hair you remembered. The years had engraved themselves onto her, carving the once-round face into a pointed visage that spoke of both experience and loss.

Just as beautiful as you remembered.

You sat on the swing under the tree with a book in hand, lost in its pages until light danced between the branches and a flicker of movement caught your attention. Glancing up, you froze as you saw her across the street.

Natalia?

Your heart quickened its pace, memories flooding back in a torrent. But this woman was different. She’d changed. She’d grown.

She noticed you too, her gaze locking onto yours for a moment. There's a flicker of recognition, a spark of something in those eyes. For a heartbeat, it feels like time hasn't passed, like you're still the same two little girls taking on the world together. But then, just as quickly as the connection formed, she averted her gaze, choosing instead to continue on her journey. She walked with purpose, footsteps marching in a steady rhythm that both connected and distanced her from you. She couldn’t get caught up with you. She had a job to do.

Realising she was going to walk away, you pushed yourself off the swing, a mix of hope and nerves swirling inside you as you discarded the book somewhere in the grass.

None of that mattered. Natalia was here. She was back.

“Hey, wait!” You shouted, practically running after her. You reached out to grab her wrist, but she jerked away, shoving you back a few steps with surprising force.

Up close, the difference was unquestionable.

The once soft and kind Natalia had evolved into a hardened version of herself, sharpened by strong fists. Her eyes once filled with innocence, now harbour shadows of pain and resilience. She exuded an aura of toughness, and a guarded silence had replaced the laughter that used to be a melody in her voice.

“Natalia? What are you doing here?” You inquired, tentatively closing the gap between you both. You watched as she winced at her name falling from your lips.

And yet, this time, she didn’t evade your touch. Her hand trembled slightly as it met yours, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. In that fleeting silence, you took in the toll life has taken on her. Her arms bear the marks of countless scars, remnants of battles fought in shadows, and bruises of varying hues.

“What happened to your arms?” Your voice is gentle, a soft inquiry borne out of concern.

But, the sudden confrontation had her retreating into herself, defences rising once more like impenetrable walls. You mustn’t know. She could never do that to you. “Let go.” She demanded sharply, her tone cutting through the air like a knife.

Caught off guard, you hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to proceed, but that’s long enough for her to decide to rip her hand out of yours, sharp and abrupt.

“Are you okay?” Your voice was barely a whisper as you watched her practically flee, disappearing around the corner of the street.

You don’t follow her.

OCTOBER 2012

Funny how throughout life, fate seemed to play a game with you, pulling Natalia in and out of your orbit like a cosmic dance.

At twenty-seven, you found yourself entrenched in the fast-paced world of trauma nursing. After the arduous journey through medical school, you packed your bags and set your sights on the East Coast. New York City welcomed you with open arms, its vibrant chaos becoming the backdrop to your new life. From your boss’s office window, the silhouette of the Empire State Building stood tall, a symbol of strength amidst the chaos below.

You thrived in this environment, relishing in the opportunity to connect with and assist people in their most vulnerable moments. The adrenaline rush of the emergency room, the delicate balance between life and death—it fuelled you in ways nothing else could. Not since that summer night. Not since you tried to touch the stars.

Today, however, the hospital was enveloped in an air of secrecy and quiet urgency. Paramedics had rushed in with a new patient a few hours ago, shrouded in mystery as they were rushed straight into surgery. Usually, you're first on-site with incoming patients but you had been busy working your rounds to be able to assist, and there were enough on the trauma team – with the security clearance - to handle such a situation.

Stopping by the bedside of your oldest patient, Mrs. Dinton, you smiled sweetly. “Hey, Mrs Dinton. How are we today?”

"Ah, there you are, dearie," she said, her voice crackling with age. "I was just telling Nurse Molly here about the delightful hospital pudding they serve on Wednesdays. It's simply divine, don't you think?"

You chuckled softly, waving a hello to your colleague. "I'm afraid I'm not much of a fan, Mrs. Dinton. But I'm glad to hear you're enjoying it."

She laughed, a sound like tinkling bells. "Oh, well, means more for me then."

Before you could continue the conversation – could reprimand the elderly woman about how she needs to watch her sugar intake - Dr. Cho appeared at your side, her expression serious. "Excuse me, ladies. But, Nurse Y/N, is needed elsewhere." She says kindly but with a hint of urgency, no room for questioning. You and Dr. Cho were great friends, having graduated med school together and now working at the same hospital.

“What is it, Helen?” You asked, following her footsteps out the ward, navigating the labyrinthine hallways of the hospital.

“I’ve been assigned postoperative care for the Jane Doe and I want you with me...” Your heart dropped at the mention of the mystery woman.

All day, the hushed tones and covert glances exchanged among your colleagues hinted at the gravity of the situation. Their whispers that followed you through the hospital corridors spoke of a failed suicide attempt. While the hospital had sadly seen its share of such cases, this one was different – a Jane Doe, requiring an unusual degree of privacy.

“…while I don’t know any more than you about what happened, I trust you the most to help me with her. So I got you clearance. Go grab us a pair of gloves, I’ll meet you inside.” Helen finished with a nod before entering the private wing.

You donned your own pair of latex and made your way back to the private wing, the click of your shoes echoing down the corridor. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation and concern. The weight of the unknown pressed upon you as you approached the room where the troubled soul awaited treatment. Few years being a trauma nurse, you had seen it all… but not a Jane Doe. Never a Jane Doe.

Upon entering, you found Helen already studying the patient's chart. The subdued lighting in the room cast a sombre mood, and the machines hummed softly in the background. The Jane Doe was laid on the hospital bed, head secured in a neck brace and a tube down her throat, a silent testament to the ordeal she had endured.

“Thanks,” Helen whispered, making her way over to retrieve her gloves. "I've gone through everything in the notes. The attempt was pretty severe."

You nodded, taking in the gravity of the situation. The silence was broken only by the soft beeping of the monitors as you both began your work. Each movement was deliberate, and each procedure executed with precision and empathy. You adjusted the IV drip, checked the vital signs, and made sure everything was in order.

Sometime later, Helen had left, her pager going off as her presence was needed with another incoming patient. The room seemed to hold its breath, but it was only you. The machine to your right, making sure the woman was still breathing.

You read over her notes once more.

“Female, 5’7…” You ramble aimlessly to no one as you find yourself unable to voice the rest.

The laceration on her neck caught your attention. The wound stretched across her delicate skin, a jagged seam where the surgeons' skilled hands had meticulously stitched the deep gash closed. The edges of the cut were puckered slightly, evidence of the trauma dealt with by the knife paramedics found next to her unconscious body. Judging by the shape, it seemed like she plunged rather than sliced, the offending weapon, then, pulled out instead of left inside. She was quite malnourished, her cheeks hollowed out, collarbone visible as the gown drowned her thin figure. She lacked a sufficient amount of muscle. You wondered how someone could go unnoticed without eating for several days. It was as if she had become a ghost, fading away in plain sight.

The woman looked ill - eyes sunken with abnormally pale skin. Drifting down her body, you noticed her legs. A horrified gasp threatened to leave your lips. Raised red lines covered the expanse of her legs, some scabbed up, some clear burn marks that had turned into blisters. Her arms were just as bad, marred with a history of wounds that ran from her wrists to her shoulders.

Behind all the equipment, her face was almost unrecognisable. Her hair was what stood out the most, the auburn curls matted with blood. A sense of familiarity washed over you, the red striking your curiosity.

You couldn't tear your gaze away as you watched her stir. Unsure if she was waking or simply moving unconsciously, you remained still, not wanting to startle her. But then her face contorted with pain, and her lashes began to flutter open.

The sheets rustled as she tried to turn, her discomfort evident from the way she struggled against the tubes and wires tethering her to the medical machinery. You couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for her, lying there in such a vulnerable state. No identity. No family to be there for her.

"Stay still, please.” You whispered softly, stepping closer to her bedside. “You're in the hospital. You’re safe."

Her eyes, clouded with pain and confusion, met yours for a fleeting moment before flickering away. She seemed to be trying to process where she was and what had happened.

“Paramedics found you unconscious and rushed you in.” You explained gently, hoping to offer some semblance of clarity amidst the chaos of her thoughts. “You had a wound to the neck. We’ve managed to close it, so don’t move around too much. Otherwise, you might open the stitches.”

Her gaze drifted back to you, and for a moment there was a flicker of recognition in her eyes. It was fleeting, gone almost as quickly as it had appeared, but it was enough to make your heart skip a beat.

You saw as she went to speak, only to find pain and a heavy weight against her tongue. “Careful. You shouldn’t try to speak yet. We’re not sure how much damage has been done to your vocal cords.”

As if she didn’t hear you, she continued fidgeting, fighting against the intrusion in her mouth, panic overriding.

“Hey, listen to me,” you coaxed, voice soft but firm, your hand reaching out to settle over hers, the glove long forgotten. “I need you to calm down, please. You’re going to be okay. You just need to rest your voice.”

Her eyes darted to you, wide with fear and frustration, and you squeezed her hand gently, offering what little comfort you could.

“It’s going to be alright, just take slow breaths. Focus on that.” You started to breathe deeply, deliberately, hoping she'd follow your lead. Inhale... exhale... in a steady rhythm, like waves lapping against the shore

As you continued to focus on stabilising her breathing, your eyes inadvertently met hers, and in that moment, you were drawn into the depths of those vibrant green orbs. They held a world of pain, swirling like a tempestuous storm beneath the surface. Yet, amidst the turmoil, there's a glimmer of familiarity that tugged at the corners of your memory.

There’s something about her you can’t make sense of.

Why does she look so familiar? Who is she?

“Do I know you?” You almost asked, but then suddenly, the door to the waiting room clicked open, and Helen strode in, her expression wavering as she noticed the woman awake. “She’s awake already?!” Shock and bewilderment visible on her face.

She advanced, quickly spewing off questions in your direction, as her eyes narrowed in on the woman, assessing her condition with a quick, practised glance.

"She's awake, a little panicked about being in a hospital, but also a bit disoriented," you explained, voice calm despite the urgency of the situation. "Vitals are stable for now.”

With that, you stepped away, dropping her hand you had forgotten you were still holding, as Helen went to introduce herself. Your lunch break was coming up and before you could turn to leave the room, Helen stopped you. "Thank you for staying with her," she said softly, "There was a car accident. Two little girls rushed in for surgery. They needed me."

You nodded in understanding. You couldn’t fault her. Every day seemed to bring a new challenge, a new story, and today was no different. This Jane Doe was no different.

Before you could delve deeper into your thoughts, she interrupted, “Anyways, I’m here now and pager is off,” she drew your attention to the device in her pocket, “Boss’s order... now go take your lunch break.”

With a small smile, you left the room, the door softly closing behind you. Walking down the hallways, your mind buzzed with curiosity about the woman. Her face – those eyes - nagged at the edges of your memory, like a puzzle waiting to be solved.

Where do I know you from, Jane Doe?

#my fics! ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader

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undercoverpena · 6 months

Text

coming under the christmas tree

frankie morales x f!reader | masterlist

summary: The way he whispers your name should be a sin—it coating the air, making each letter feel important, essential—as your hands find his belt, undoing it, the sound cutting through all else, even burying a whispered expletive that falls from his tongue. “Do you know how hot you look right now, Morales?”

warnings: explicit. 18+. smut. literal porn from me. oral (m recieving), p in v, praise (jo has a thing, run with it), frankie being gorgeous, minor cock worship, christmas themes.

wordcount: 2.8k an: i wrote this little imagine and then the gorgeous, wonderful @wildemaven created this moodboard (which inspired the banner) and then i decided to write more.

Putting up a tree with anyone is a chore, but with him, it’s a blessing.

It isn’t because it’s him, because you’re dating, because he makes you laugh and makes your toes curl at any time of the day. But, rather, because he wants to do it. Because he’s methodical. Always thinking, turning—planning.

Whether it’s routes to get somewhere, timing on when to leave when the two of you have reservations or whether your grand plans for a room rearrangement, Frankie plots it out and makes measurements in his head. He’s always right, not that he ever gloats—just nods as though it’s entirely normal.

It isn’t—it’s fucking hot.

Something you expect, and thankfully do, come face to face with when the branches are all in place on the half-dressed Christmas tree. The clear plastic boxes strewn across the living room, his fingers slowly undoing and unknotting the lights you’d haphazardly thrown in the box last year.

You know the answer, but you ask all the same: “You want me to help with that?”

He doesn’t answer, just gives you a look. A blend of ‘be serious’ and ‘you’re good’ cuts across his features, making his eyes warmer and his smile kinder.

Before he even sets about winding them through the branches, you can tell he’s created a light-path. Already heard him mumbling that they don’t go all the way around, remember earlier. His eyes glancing up at it, making mental notes, calculating a route—brown eyes skating and shifting side to side.

You just remain on the floor, legs crossed—checking over the ornaments for nicks or scratches—admiring. You do it a lot, admire him, take him in—gawk, trace your eyes over him so when you blink you don’t waste a second not seeing him.

“We can always buy another set?” you offer, watching him bend behind the armchair, plugging them in, plunging the room in a soft, white glow.

Grinning, Frankie brushes some loose strands from over his eyes, “No need, baby. I’ve got it.”

He does. You weren’t surprised his devised path makes the base of the tree already look full—no section unlit, each bit of cable hidden from sight, blending perfectly with the tree. You were even sure if you turned it 180, the back currently in the corner would even be lit.

It isn’t that which makes your mouth drool.

It also isn’t the way the twinkle of the lights has hit the brown of his eyes when he lets his gaze fall to you, making it appear like a galaxy has burst in them—a sky full of stars, all staring at you.

No. It’s the way the entirety of him is lit up. Practically glowing. It enhances how stretched out he is, practically in a straight line. His arms above his head, fingers delicately wrapping the lights around the tip of the tree. It shines light over the slither of skin exposed from his shirt rising; it makes it more evident that his tongue is poking out, resting on his bottom lip, eyes trained on the job at hand, his priority, his task.

You flutter around nothing.

Feel your heart stammer in your chest as you devour the sight of him whole.

Placing the ornament in the good-to-hang pile, you don’t even pretend to glance at it. Too busy drinking in the sight of the lines on his arms from flexing—those strong, arms which carried the tree down from the attic. Little beads of sweat had clung to his forehead then, having needed to shift things around, move them—move baby, don’t want you to get hurt.

You were something akin to pain now. Desperate, needy and fucking feral. Your throat all dry while your tongue felt heavy, eyes sliding down his frame, focusing on the hairs on his stomach, all exposed, beckoning to be touched, to have your tongue slide down over it.

You only blink when he clears his throat, looking up, finding his eyes on you—tracing over your face, slightly narrowed, attempting to read you.

Another day, you might shy away from it. Look away first, wait until he calls your name and pleads for you to look at him. Today, you don’t. Slowly rising onto your knees, holding his stare, commanding him to blink as little as possible:

Watch me, Morales. Keep your eyes on me.

Sliding your tongue across your bottom lip, your teeth finding a resting place on it—fingers sliding to his hips, watching his hand release the lights, forehead smoothing, any and all confusing lines fading away.

The way he whispers your name should be a sin—it coating the air, making each letter feel important, essential—as your hands find his belt, undoing it, the sound cutting through all else, even burying a whispered expletive that falls from his tongue.

“Do you know how hot you look right now, Morales?”

Your fingers undo the button, tracing your tongue again over your lip—hungry, practically salivating—as you slide the zip through the teeth. His gaze is still on you, unwavering, a shadow of surprise in the back of his eyes that this is even happening—as though he is still taken back by the fact he deserves this, deserves you.

“You want me to suck your cock, baby?”

His swallow fills the room—loud, vociferous. Your palm brushes over the hardened bulge, tracing the outline over the thin cotton which remained a barrier between his velvet skin and your tongue.

“I really wanna suck your cock,” you add, purring, practically drooling as you notice the wet stain appearing—blooming, stretching out—as one hand falls from the tree, cupping the side of your mouth.

You like him like this, quiet, taken off guard. So often it is him doing it to you, saying all the right things, whispering all the words which make your skin feel like fire.

When you finally let his cock spring free, you waste no time licking a stripe up the side, tongue flat, brushing over veins as your hands tease the fabric down to the tops of his knees, resting on the jeans that remain there, pointless, likely mildly annoying for him. Not that he’ll care in a second. Less so for now when your fingers wrap around him, take his girth in your palm, warmth spreading over your palm as you slowly pump him up and down, collecting your first few hisses, and a little groan.

You marvel at him—at his cock. How thick it is, how long. How you know it feels between your thighs, how it makes your toes curl. Pressing kissing to the leaking tip, wrapping your lips around the head, hand working the length of him as you make your lips slick, coat them in desire, before you take as much of him as you can. Your tongue pressed to the underside, mouth basked in the taste of salt and just him, as your jaw stretched to accommodate him, to willfully take more, and more.

“Don’t know—fuck, baby—what I did to deserve you.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, burning under the praise, under his praise. Your head bobbing, wanting to show gratitude by taking more of him. Cheeks hollowing, his fingers sliding around the back of your head, a comforting hold, a calming one as you relax your throat, wanting to be full of him. Fiercely so.

Tears even prick at your eyes, and your fingers dig into the back of his thighs, lifting off, swirling your tongue around him, running your teeth lightly over him, before swallowing as much of him as you can. Willing for him to smear your throat in him, leave you tasting him with each swallow for the rest of the afternoon.

“Wanna fin—fuck—ish inside you,” he grunts, curls plastered to his forehead, cheeks flushed—neck stained in pink.

You moan in response, closing your lips around him as you’re sure your underwear is clinging to you, drenched in want.

You’re half-tempted to slide your fingers inside the band of your shorts, passed the red lace you chose this morning, not even sure if you’d be unwrapped before or after the erection of the tree. Midway through hadn’t crossed your mind. Had never counted on this, never would have made a bet.

But, then he drags himself out, tip hovering at your lips giving you a look—sharp, uncharacteristic of him. “I want to fuck you, baby. Make you feel good.”

Tongue swirling over, he appears to shudder, eyes fluttering, before he pulls the rest free from your mouth. Spit smearing your lip, snapped in the space between where the two of you had been connected.

“You always make me feel good, Frankie.”

Smirking, his arm flexes briefly as he takes hold of his cock. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

And you don’t miss the reference. Not so drunk on him that you don’t remember your own words from before—but you just nod. A retort growing and dying, as you do.

“Spread your legs and show me.”

And you do. Leaning back, sliding onto your rear, your fingers slide your clothing down your legs, kicking it off past your ankles, passed the fluffy socks you’d stolen from him. Bare from the waist down, just for him—always for him. Letting your arms support you from behind, you tilt your head. In awe of him once again as he wraps his hand around his cock, the size even more impressive when you know how big his hands are—your own nails digging into the rug under your palms and ass.

“C’mon, show me you want me.”

You whimper, spreading your knees, letting them part until they’re hovering just above the floor on either side.

The cool air kissing over you, a gasp desperate to emerge but dies somewhere in your throat—swallowed up by a moan at the way he views you. The way his eyes rake up and down you like this is the first time he’s seen you, and not the billionth.

Like all the things he does, it’s with precision the way he rids himself of being contained by his jeans and underwear. Lowering himself to his knees between yours, you lean forward, lips finding his—messy, needy. Need you, they kiss, fuck me, they plead.

His mouth remains on you, only letting enough words escape to tell you to keep his jumper on when your fingers slide his t-shirt up and over his head. He rewards your obedience by letting his hand fall from himself to you—tracing, languid circles on your swollen clit, until he pushes two fingers in. You shift your hips into him, hearing him moan distantly at the feel of how wet you are, whispered praises given that are too far away as your mind rendered nothing (emptied, lost)—

Because he’s electric, you swear. Not even sure the lights need plugging in, you swear he could touch them and they’d illuminate—at least from the way he sparks enough in you to light the whole house up. Making it run, dart, a heavy current that dashes through your veins.

It’s why you whimper at the loss of him—only stopping yourself from whining when you feel him trace his cock through your folds, teasing, tracing up and down as the head of him nudges your clit, watching you, focused on the way your mouth must be parted and the likely sheen on your face.

And, you’re about to say his name—more in warning, in hunger. His body presses you down flush to the floor, the back of your hips meeting the fluff of the rug, as his mouth slides over your jaw, fingers dancing along your thigh, writing words, with the pads of them—leaving teasing verses against your skin.

“Stop teasing,” you say sharply.

Watching your words have their desired effect—that shy smile that grows into a confident smirk. The one you witness more than anyone else, the one you think of when you’re alone in the bed you share and it’s only his voice you have down the phone when your mind tries to pretend your fingers are his.

It’s slow, gentle, the way he begins to line up, pausing at your entrance—keeping you hanging, delicately placed there, held up by string as his breath paints what he wants to do to you against your neck. But you don’t hear it, can’t untangle the tale, least of all when he begins pressing in, sliding in inch by inch—

He’s big. And it makes you breathe deeply as you stretch around him. It makes you shiver. Makes you moan as he buries himself to the hilt, hips flush with yours.

“So good for me,” he praises before his lips slope over yours.

His hips begin to move, and each drag of his cock in and out makes you moan. The sound of you swallowing him, taking every inch of him he’ll give, is the soundtrack; the backdrop being the halo of lights above the two of you. It lights him, kisses along the varying shades that make up his curls, the browns, the beginning greys.

And you’re soaked, drenched—can feel it around where the two of you are joined, each slow drag in and out making it more apparent as you capture his lips. Breathlessly doing so, looping fingers around his neck, tugging lightly on his hair, curling into him, needing him deeper as your legs wrap around him.

It’s then the tip of him hits that spot, all unhurried. A motion he seeks, centres in on as he thrusts again, abutting it, making your eyes close and your mouth stretch each syllable of his name out in a whine. It makes you forget how to speak, and which language to utter. Barely a word for each finger can even come to mind, it’s mostly just his name. Frankie. Frankie. Please, Frankie as the air crackles around you.

He answers—he always does. His hand slides between your sweaty bodies, and finds the bundle of nerves calling out to him, the place which yearns. Doing so with accuracy, and exactness, as he draws shapes, lines and the fucking alphabet until you’re seeing stars, until it’s so hot you swear the jumper will peel from your skin and your head is nothing but a dizzying mess of him, just him. It makes you frantic to see him, outline his face, all cast in shadows because he’s turned away from the lights which made him look ethereal only moments ago.

His cock throbs inside of you, everything else curling inside your stomach, walls twitching around him as you tighten, vice-like, making him hiss. A sound which makes molten spread through you, more so when his mouth slides to your ear, breath laboured, along your skin, begging for you to come, needing you to, please, baby, please.

“S’close, Frankie.”

“I know—doing so well, so perfect for me.”

The words unlock something as a new pace is set, it more unforgiving, one that’ll likely leave marks on his knees from the friction on the rug, as you writhe and cling, half-moons left on his neck, digging in, marking him in the same way he’ll mark your walls in a moment or two.

Then, it floods over you. Drowns you. Coats you from head to toe as though you’ve been plunged in pleasure, left gasping, breath struggling to be located. Your mouth latched to his, burning your thanks into his mouth, your entire body tingling as he fucks you through it, until he’s thrusting aimlessly, so damn close until your name leaves the back of his throat in a sob, a blend of pleasure and relief strewn across his face as he comes deep inside of you. Hips slowing to a stammer, lowering himself down till he’s flush with you, before they come to a stop.

Then, it’s just his pants that meet your strained breaths, until a little hiss as he pulls himself out of you. Leaving you empty, sore in a way you’re grateful for, as his fingers trace over your chin, along your jaw, words being thought in slow bubbles as he stares at you.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Narrowing your eyes, you slide a hand to his hip, pinching.

“Just love that puttin’ lights up made you wanna suck my cock, is all.”

Smiling, you run your knuckles along his cheek, and brush past the wiry hair that makes up his patchy beard. “Wait till you see me hand the baubles, bet you’ll wanna be on your knees for me.”

“Good,” he replies. “I’m really hoping to taste how good we are together once we’re done.”

an: i freaking loved writing this, oh my.

i don't usually do taglists, but just tagging a few people who seemed interested in the longer version (sorry if this is annoying): @thetriumphantpanda @swiftispunk @5oh5 @morallyinept @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @reddedmiller @yorksgirl @missredherring @tvversionperson @secretelephanttattoo

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales smut #Frankie morales x reader smut #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #frankie morales smut #triple frontier smut #frankie morales x f!reader smut #pedrostories

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months

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AITA for telling my friend she can't sing?

So I (F17) am in my school's chorus class. I have been in chorus classes since 1st grade, and I also sing in my church choir and am part of an a capella group. I love singing and plan to go to school in musical theater. And even with all this experience and the skill that comes with it I would just call myself a decent singer. I'm not amazing, I'm not gonna win any awards, but I can more than carry a tune.

In contrast my friend Leah (F17, fake name) just joined chorus class this year and only did it to hang out with me and a couple other friends in the class, and thinks she has amazing talent. She thinks she's gonna be the next Stevie Nicks or Celine Dion. But she sucks. Like, objectively so. I'm not just trying to be mean. A friend in her section told me our teacher has actively told their section (on a day she was out sick) that they need to sing louder than her at our next concert so no one can hear her. While we rehearse for concerts Leah sometimes gets pulled aside for one on one times with the teacher in his office, and she keeps bragging that it's because she's better than everyone else. It isn't. It's because she is really, really bad, and so she needs extra help. Seriously, I can't emphasize enough that she tells everyone she meets she's a professional singer when she can't make it through Twinkle Twinkle Little Star on tune.

Still, she's nice enough outside of this fact and wasn't directly hurting anyone, so I never said anything. Until the auditions for the school play came up. We're doing Grease. I auditioned for Sandy (the lead girl) and so did Leah. I didn't get Sandy, but I got Rizzo. Leah didn't get anything.

Since she found out she didn't get any role at all Leah has been incredibly bitter and mean. She keeps saying how unfair it is, how she's so much better than us, how the teacher knows she's better and is just holding her back because he obviously plays favorites. Still, I tried to ignore her. But then she said that I in particular only got in my a capella group only because I flirt with every guy who looks my way, and I do that because I know I don't have her natural talent.

I admit, this is where I might be TA: I went off on her. I told her she couldn't carry a tune in a bucket and might be able to see that if she got her head out of her own ass a second. I told her everyone in class knew she sucked, and if anything was unfair it was that everyone had to work harder just to cover up for how bad she sounded.

Since I went off on her Leah has been avoiding me in school and blocked me on social media, and I've heard she's telling people what a bitch I am. A few of our friends say I shouldn't have gone off on her like that, and I agree I probably went too far, but I feel at least a little justified?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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aphroditesmoon · 9 months

Note

fem reader attending one of gwen stacys band shows and just being distracted by how gorgeous she is 🤞🤞?

see how it shines

gwen stacy x fem!reader

warnings: none, fluff, lyrics from the song; risk by mega mango.

a/n: I hope you enjoyed this lovely <3

♡♡♡

THE SHOW has already started. You were about 15 minutes late due to the absolute horrid traffic. The scene wasn't one you'd see yourself to ever be in if you were honest.

You enjoyed music much more in a less crowded company. The sweating and the yelling could get tiring after a full 20 minutes. But once you've slid into the front rows of the crowd, you feel as if the whole world had gone quiet.

They were still there and they are still singing and yelling, buf it all felt like a background noise then. The kind you'd put on using the television or a radio while you actually focus on whatever it is that's consuming you. And when your eyes had met the sight of the infamous drummer, Gwen Stacy.

You'd realized then that she was the focus in this situation. You supposed you should thank her for the front row tickets.

The two of you had met in a record shop, you were looking for a good ole Amy Winehouse when as she lets her eyes search the section, left arm alredy hanging onto an Indigo De Souza vinyl. She'd introduced you to new music that evening, with a ticket to one of her shows near your area.

The lead singer had a mesmerizing voice, but you found yourself zeroing on the beats of her drum, and the way it matches the tune so easily. As the music gets louder, the lyrics became clearer too as you try your best to sing along with the rest of the crowd.

"I know I'm not alone or far from home...but I'm freezin.." It sounded like the type of music she'd make. Just the vibe she gave off. Though you almost expected her to be a rock kind of girl. Her eyes were stuck to her instruments, she was there but she wasn't. And when she opened her eyes and risked a glance to the crowd, your arms instinctively goes up to wave. Her eyes meet yours, and your anxious heart relaxes when she smiles at you. "...I've been up all night..."

You were embarrassed of yourself for raising your hand. But her notice rid you of your humiliation. Besides, you were sure no one else besides her even saw it in the first place.

She had a leather jacket on, with bright coloured pins on them. You wondered when was the last time you saw someone who looked this good in a leather jacket on real life, someone in a band too.

The dimly purple coloured lights gave her a glow that convinced you she must be an angel at the moment. The absolute passion in the way her hands moved made her stand out to you the same way rainbows do in hazy skies after a heavy rain. Like it just made sense. You ignore the slight nausea you were suddenly feeling. Stop getting overexcited. You scolded your nerves. You heart was weak, and what with this full of fire of a being in front of you, you'd let her consume your whole being if she wanted to, with the way her eyes are twinkling slightly like faded stars, and she's smirking at you like she knows you'll do anything if she'd just ask.

The rest of the one and a half hour show, you felt drunk of the lively atmosphere. The smell of sweat ceased to bug you every time Gwen acknowledged your presence with a look. You had waited for her once the show ended. Doubts risen of whether you should've just left as everyone currently was, but the drummer herself was quick to find you before you could change your mind.

She beckoned you to the corner of the stage. The air felt less stuffier as people moved to the exit, and yet your chest was piunding like you lacked it with every step you took. A silly grin was plastered on your face, and how happy you felt to see her sharing the same expression.

The spotlights was being shut off when you reached her. You failed to hold yourself back from a hug, arms wrapping themselves around her as if they're used to doing it. The sudden jerk of her body told you she wasn't expecting it, hut she returned it as easily. "I didn't think you'd come." She teases.

You pulled away from her, againts your own want. "Well I did." You replied awkwardly, hands feeling empty as they leave her body. "You did." She repeated.

"And I'm glad you did. Did you like our songs?" You nodded. "I liked seeing you play, you seem passionate about drumming-" Her fingers finds your own before she pulls you with her to the backstage. "-like you're lost in your own world when you start playing." She lets out an awkward laugh at that.

The rest of her bandmates barely glance at her as she brings you into a room with her name by the door. The lead singer was the only one who looked your way, winking at her before he went back to talking with another girl. "I feel like I'm in a different world when I play." She states before closing her door.

You took a seat on the single couch in the cramped room, watching as she finishes off a bottle of water on her desk. "That's nice. " you replied genuinely. "I've never really had any particular thing I liked to doing, or am good at." You explained. If she looked like she wasn't listening before, she completely turned herself towards you as she sits on the spinning chair opposite you, completely paying attention. "Oh there must be something you like to do." You chuckle at that and shook your head slightly. "I mean, I like reading, and sometimes I play video games or something. But nothing I'd say that I'm particular sure I'm passionate about."

She gives an understanding 'ah', nodding her head at your words.

"Maybe you just haven't found it yet, I mean- I know everyone says that a lot...but sometimes your passion could just be out there, waiting in a...random concert you've been coereced to go, or maybe its in the form of a cooking book recipe? You know what I mean?" You nodded. You did know.

"You never know until you actually try the things you never have before. Maybe, drumming could be your passion, who knows?" You laughed in a suprised manner at her teasing. The blonde girl grinned warmly at you, raising a brow. "What? I'm serious! I could give you a few lessons." You hummed and smiled brightly at her.

"Oh I'm very sure music isn't it, I can't even read music notes." You confessed, earning an audible gasp from her. "What?"

"Mmhm." You confirmed, scrunching your nose at her. "All the more reasons to teach you." She decided, earning another laugh from you. "You are relentless!" You noted. She shrugged and moved her chair closer to you. "The things you'd do to spend more time with another person." She whispers loud enough for your ears. You feel your cheek warming at her obvious flirting attempts. But with the pressure to come up with something smart to say back, you ended up saying nothing instead, mouth open, yet speechless.

"Sorry." She apologies when she sensed your quietness. "I have a tendency to move too fast-" You stand up abruptly, cutting off her trail of words. "Oh no- not at all!" She days nothing, waiting for you to continue. "I just, well I just didn't think you'd like me like that."

She frowns when you're done. Standing up herself, so she'd be in an eye level as you. "I've been trying to get your number since we first met at the record shop." Oh. she did. You hadn't given her because you were sure that she was just joking. "And I would love to have your number still, If you're fine with that." You were sure you're looking like an idiot with how big your smile was.

"For drumming lessons?" You joked. The corners of her eyes crinkles adorably as she dissolves into a giggle. "And other lessons you could be interested in."

#gwen stacy fanfiction #gwen stacy x reader #gwen stacy #ghost spider #spider gwen #atsv gwen #spiderman across the spiderverse #atsv #atsv x reader #across the spiderverse

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mikunology · 9 months

Text

Mikunology Reviews #2: NX STARS (2022)

Alright, here is my second review! Today, I'm reviewing something much more recent and kind of obscure depending on your circles...the album NX STARS created by VOCALOEDM circle NEXTLIGHT!

Uh, so, like I said, I wanted to review mostly albums I'm interested in (someone did give me a suggestion I might follow up on though) and as a big EDM listener and a fan of several of the DJs in NEXTLIGHT, I figured I'd give the NX series some spotlight. I'd like to review some of NEXTLIGHT's other projects as well in the future. But anyways, let's get on it!

Star Theory - We start off the album with a song from Reno! This song is a bright, poppy electropop track, fitting to the album's star concept. I have to say, it's a good start: the song has a strong dazzling air about it, complemented by Miku's vivid and cute vocals. It definitely has this "sparkling" vibe with the way the synths are used, and it does a good job at getting you ready and excited for what's ahead. Pretty good!

Sono Koe wa Kagami no Gotoku (That Voice That's Like a Mirror) - OK, not gonna lie, this is probably my favorite track on the album and we're only on #2! I'm admittedly kinda late on hopping on the keisei fan train - I wasn't a big fan of "Singularity", to be honest. But this song is wonderful: the song's guitar and piano and the almost "soaring" feeling of the music is incredibly refreshing and addicting. Not to mention, this song uses Miku NT fantastically - she sounds nearly indistinguishable from V4, minus some light engine noise. I don't know how keisei does it.

Tenbinzu no Principal (Libra's Principal) - A dazzling pop/future bass track courtesy of colate! I don't think I liked this one overly much upon first listen, but relistening to it has made me like it a bit more. Like Star Theory, it has this very "sparkly" and "magical" feel to it, between the twinkling synths, dashes of violin and light, clean future bass drops. Still, I think this one is a bit on the forgettable side compared to the previous two tracks.

Candy Load - emon my beloved!! A sort of guest on part of NEXTLIGHT, he brings his typical fun and fresh pop to the album. It feels a slight bit different from his usual stuff, so to speak: Miku's vocals (which are provided by Miku Sweet) feel more subdued than usual, and it has some more chill parts to it. But, it is a good track! The chorus is as funky and catchy as only emon can bring, and I can easily have a good bop to it. If you like "Metamo-Ribbon", for instance, I think you're easily gonna love this one. Probably one of the more stand-out tracks.

Kashimashi Bischet - A new track provided by Twinfield! However, unfortunately…I kinda feel lukewarm on this one. Don't get me wrong, it is a fun track, but I feel like it has trouble standing out, with the only part that really got my attention being the drop before the final chorus - it leads into this really cool and fun-sounding instrumental section, and it makes the following chorus feel a lot more fun as a result! Basically, the song feels a bit like it takes too long to "get good". But eh, I'll give it a 5/10.

Magical Shiny Sky - This track is provided by picco, aka the current queen of Vocaloid future bass XD I have to say, though, this track is pretty good! I feel like during my first listen of this album, I didn't give it too much credit, but I think it's pretty cool. It has a great beat to it and it grabs you from the get-go, and it keeps that fun, jumping quality going through the whole thing. And again, this song has the signature "sparkly" element most of the album has been keeping! It feels pretty satisfying as a future bass track.

Ride the Light - This song is written by Capchii! This has a somewhat harder beat to it, making it kind of unique since this album has mostly been light electropop. However, I don't think I'm super keen on this track: the music itself is good, with the harder electropop beat working for it well and having a fairly catchy hook, but I'm kinda…lukewarm on Miku's vocals? I think Capchii uses her well on average, but she sounds kinda underwhelming on this track and it makes the song kinda so-so.

Ryuusei Empathy (Meteor Empathy) - This next track is by another "guest", Buono! This one is hard to describe…I can't name any traits from it that the other tracks on this album don't adhere to? This one has a sorta funky chorus, almost emon-like, but despite listening to it a few times I find this one mostly forgettable. Sorry, Buono :'D

Your Wish - A second track created by Reno! This one is good - admittedly not as strong as Star Theory, in my opinion, but with a nice uplifting and bopping vibe to it. I'm growing more and more fond of their way of tuning Miku as well :D The way she sings "Your wish come true" at the end of the chorus is super satisfying and definitely instilled a Feeling™ in me. High rec this one!

Outer Shelter's - Finally, our last track is brought about by Adomiori! This one is actually rather chill compared to the rest of the CD - it's more slow and emotional rather than perky and bouncy, but it still keeps the happy theme of the album. I really like it, actually?? The way Miku sings in this one is very nice, and I love the vibes here - it really gives that sort of "floating in space" feeling. The melody both for the vocals and the drop is great. It feels like a very suitable final track to end off such a starry tracklist.

And that's it! Overall, I'd say this album is pretty good - even if I say a song is sorta mid, I can't necessarily say any of them are absolutely worth skipping (i.e. really bad), and most of the tracks are very enjoyable. If you enjoy electropop or future bass when it comes to VOCALOID, I think you will enjoy most if not all of NX STARS. I highly encourage you to check out NEXTLIGHT if this album seems up your alley!

I'm thinking next week, I could cover my favorite from the NX series, NX ENCHANT, but idk, maybe I'll do something else instead. I hope you enjoyed my review ;v;

#mikunology reviews #album review #vocaloid #hatsune miku #nextlight #reno #keisei #colate #emon(tes.)#twinfield #picco #capchii #buono #adomiori

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nobully · 13 days

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❛ We can talk about it after because I've had a shit day and I really just wanna starfish and forget the world. ❜ let her use ur lap or something 😤

THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER SENTENCE STARTERS

"Not here, then."

Maybe it was years of playing eldest disciple, maybe it was maturity gained with experience, but the moment Nicolette finishes venting, Wang Yi's response isn't to follow her whims but suggest something entirely different.

He catches the flash of surprised uncertainty in her eyes and grasps her hand the next second, flashing a quick smile back.

"I mean, I want to show you something."

"If you're serious about starfishing, that is."

He quietly checks her expression again: the tension seems to have faded, whatever potential rejection she was winding herself up for dissipating with his explanation. Wang Yi mentally reminds himself to phrase things better before tugging her after him in a run.

"C'mon, let's go."

Nicolette can't help but exclaim, "Now? Where to?!"

"To catch the next airship."

Her voice is breathless as she squeezes his fingers. "What for?"

"So I can show off."

—

He has them ride to the heights of the Sky-Strewn Isles, then whisks Nicolette away on his sword (securely placing her hands around his waist first) to the shores of Silvern Sands. Sunset is already sinking into twilight by the time they settle on the beach, Wang Yi sitting cross-legged on the sand with Nicolette's head resting in his lap.

"A beach date?" she gives him a look followed by a brief giggle that sounds higher-pitched than usual—her nervous energy creeps in despite everything, after all. "That's not unoriginal at all, Yiyi."

"Is it?" Wang Yi's tone carries a hint of challenge, his fingers casually reaching down to tuck Nicolette's hair behind her ears. "I bet you're not looking hard enough."

"Hm? I'm looking as hard as I can at you."

"Later." He raises a finger above her face, catches her eyes with it, and points it towards the sky. Then, softer. "There first."

Nicolette follows his words and basks in the light of the waking stars. Of course it's much easier to see them here in the dark, but even that seems plenty predictable. Until she catches a spark out of the corner of her vision. Her eyes dart towards it, glimpsing the tail end of a silvery light; more appear at the edges of her sight before bursting into symphony as a glittering shower of sparkles dyeing the night in light-filled magic. Some specks of it even land on her cheek—they're startlingly cold, causing her to blink.

Wang Yi's wiping her face with his sleeves the next second with a murmured whoops, but she catches his eyes twinkling at her with quiet expectation. Just as she readies herself to speak, his gaze goes up and she follows him, looking back into the skies.

There's a gasp. It takes Nicolette a second to register it as her own, and then she's staring wide-eyed at six flying ice swords glittering and dancing their way across the canopy. Eventually they clash with each other and fight until each is smashed into fragments raining more ice dust over their heads.

“My kid self always thought ice looked like crystals,” Wang Yi muses from above her. “But when I practice with my swords at night, they’re closer to stars.”

He extends his palm until a full-sized crystal made out of ice forms in his hand. Its edges glimmer softly, glowing blue-white in the dark.

“Here.” He floats it over to Nicolette, who half sits up to touch the surface and marvel at the cold. “It won’t melt unless I tell it to. But you don’t have to hold it—I’ll keep it afloat for you.”

She blinks at him, then opens her palms and watches the ice star float in between them. “What’s this for?”

“I caught you a star just like you asked for,” he arches his brows in mock-offense. “How many more do you want?”

Nicolette gapes at him before suddenly turning cheeky. “What if I said I wanted them all?”

“You think I can’t do it?”

“Show me, then!”

"Huh, let's see..." Wang Yi points at a section of sky. More ice crystals form—tinier ones that dance and come together before descending to circle around the largest one in Nicolette's hands. "Something like that?"

Nicolette plucks a tiny icy star out of its orbiting brethren and gives it an equally tiny kiss. "Hmm...offering accepted."

"We're just getting started." And with that, Wang Yi continued to pluck more stars out of moisture in the air, freezing the water to form tiny works of art.

At some point he has to stop, mostly because he's running low on energy, but by then Nicolette's been decked out in ice crystals in her hair and shoulders and everywhere else. Of course. Wang Yi takes care to avoid them touching her skin so she doesn't freeze.

"So what do you think?" he asks after a lull.

Looking at her bedecked self, Nicolette can't help but laugh, "It's like I'm drowning in diamonds."

At that, Wang Yi's eyes brighten and he moves in with his hands to rearrange the ice—forming a crown, necklace, earrings, and bracelet. At the thought of a ring he hesitates over her fingers before gracing each one with a glittering crystal floating just above skin level.

He raises his gaze in time to meet Nicolette's irises staring into his own, and freezes, an awkward half-smile on his lips. Was it too much?

But Nicolette just smiles and sits up completely. "Wang Yi, you have stars in your eyes."

"It's the light reflecting off the ice—" he begins, but stops as she wraps her arms around his shoulders.

"Shush. Anyways, that just means I can catch you too, right?"

"Does it?"

"Mhm. You're the biggest star tonight, and I've got all your brothers and sisters as bait." She tilted her head, letting one "earring" twinkle temptingly. "Give in, you've lost already."

"Hah, don't be so sure." In response, Wang Yi pulls her in by the waist, locking them into a hug. "If it's just the stars, I can keep you from seeing my eyes easy enough."

"Well, you still feel as cool as one."

"I've just got a calm personality."

"Pfft! Since when?"

"Since now."

"Then you'll stay calm while I bring you all the way home, won't you?"

"You're gonna have to carry me through the window, Break will complain otherwise."

"Hmm, that sounds more entertaining somehow?"

"If he pops a vein, Zhilan won't get any sleep."

"Then we'll take turns watching over him."

"You're including me in that? He'll just pop more veins."

"I'll make sure he's asleep by the time it's your turn."

"Hey, since when did this turn into a conversation about Break?"

Their silly banter continues long after Wang Yi's ice dissipates and the hug warms them both up.

#nicawlette #drabbles;#had to cut it short (“short”) because i need to bed but here's ur food #dabbling in their post-timeskip vibes too im swimming im treading water (ice? stars?) wheeee #answered;

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yjyt85r98r · 6 months

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Ranking Aikatsu Friends stage designs

1. Coincidence, Inevitable.

One of the coolest and most unique stages. I’m not sure whether it fits the song, but it’s just so pretty and cool.

2. Have a Dream

Very whimsigoth!

3. To the New Stage

It’s just so magical looking. I don’t think it’s necessarily the best, but I really like it.

4. Overflowing with Love

The crystalline water, flowing waterfalls and floating islands give it a unique and slightly surreal look that fits well with the song’s frutiger aero sound. The pink lace and gold filigree don’t really fit with the music, but they’re very pretty and they help Classical Ange establish its aesthetic.

5. The World is Spinning

The black and neon palette is actually really rare for Aikatsu stages. I don’t know, this stage is just really cool.

6. A nice “to meet you”!

The stage base has the typical AiFriends problem of looking too plain and flat, but the way everything was done was really special and engaging. The way the sky changes throughout the song, when the twinkling lights turn on and the ghosts appear, and, especially, the way Mirai interacted with the stage before the song began... very cunique!

7. As It Is

I really like the stained glass windows and the big, mysterious doors (which are also symbolic of Alicia “opening a door” in her journey). It was also cool seeing the ice cave, because her performance happened a few months after I had been inside an ice cave myself.

8. Guided

AiFriends’ CGI style makes backgrounds look a little odd and flat, although that might work just fine with this particular song and character, since it’s a fairytale-themed song and the character is an actor, so it gives off the impression of a cutout from a book, or a stage set.

9. Be star

It’s very unique and ethereal. I couldn’t tell you what a single thing on this stage is – there are no words for it – but it’s really pretty!

10. Believe it / Pride

This one probably would’ve ranked higher if it, and its variations, were not so overused. I think this is probably the best version of the stage, so I’ll just let this one take _ place and save all the other stages for the afterword/footnotes section. The warm, girly and elegant appearance of this stage isn’t really suited to LMT’s more cool style of music that often borders on being in a minor key, but the red and gold does match their hair.

11. The Scene Above 6cm

A bright and busy design resembling the parts of the city I do my best to avoid! It was really good of them to locate the cafe so that the performer is next to it while singing the line about a cafe.

12. We wish you a merry Christmas BEST FRIENDS! Ver.

I think I like this one best out of all the stages for this song. It doesn’t really embody “modern version of Christmas song that features a rap break”, but it’s very cute and nostalgic.

13. Identity

The main thing that makes this stage amazing is the effects, not the design itself, so I can’t rank it too high. But the shadow acrobats and animals? Really cool and unique!

14. Girls be ambitious!

You can’t really see the stage well for most of the performance due to the lighting, and it usually doesn’t look quite as cool as it does in this image, so I had to rank it a bit low.

15. Strong, Kind, Beautiful

It is really pretty, but it uses so many recycled elements from Karen’s first stage that I can’t rate it too high. Like, it’s basically just a dance version of the same stage (like when they changed the stage for Dreaming bird into a live one).

16. Let's A · I · K · A · T · S · U Together! (Coco Ver.)

This design is really different for Aikatsu Friends, so it’s a shame it didn’t appear in the anime. It’s a lot less physical-looking than the other stages - it’s all blatantly digital. Unfortunately, it looks coolest from this top angle that’s in the picture above but never appeared in the music video.

17. Let's A · I · K · A · T · S · U Together! (Pure Palette Ver.)

It’s cute and charming, but it didn’t wow me the way some of the other stages did.

18. I’m Not Alone!

For a final stage, it’s just... meh. I do love when they have cameos of coords incorporated into the stages (like in Pretty Pretty)

19. Okemaru

Despite the busy appearance, I can’t help but feel like something is missing. The bright colours are very cheerful, but I personally find the flat mowed grass to just be depressing.

20. Aikatsu Friends!

It’s alright. There’s a good attempt to balance cute and cool elements.

21. Thank You⇄It'll Be Alright

The usage of neon for the background is quite rare for a cute-type song. The neon instruments resembling an orchestra are nice, as is the piano surrounding the stage, but it still feels a bit plain or empty. (Also, the sheet music is just a bunch of illegible nonsense, and I believe the piano is not playing the actual song. Well, asking for that might be asking too much. It’s a cool idea regardless of accuracy.)

22. This World is Wonderful

Cute, but nothing special. Just like everything else about Wakaba. I do like the pop-up book effect that was used for the houses, though.

23. Open You Heart

It’s just nothing new. It’s very similar to other stages from previous series (e.g. the Girly Room Stage used for SHINING LINE*).

VARIATIONS OF THE FRIENDS STAGE

(No.1 is the LMT version that I ranked earlier)

2. Bond ~Synchro Harmony~

Whereas Love Me Tear’s version of this stage looked warm and regal, Reflect Moon’s looks cold and mystical. The almost-entirely-blue palette draws attention to the contrasting orange flames from the chandeliers.

3. You × I / Let's Find It♪

Technically there is a slight variation between the two stages for these songs, but whatever. Of all the Friends units, the royal palace theme suits Honey Cat least, but they still made it their own.

4. Everyone Everyone!

The more blue-silver toned walls work alright with the pink stage.

5. The Thing That’s Only There

The bright pink and blue just doesn’t fit with the red and gold. The change from silver to gold does help demonstrate that Pure Palette is, like, a higher level and more serious now, so it does make sense in the context of the show.

#ranking #long post #with this post i'm outing myself as someone who goes on the aesthetics wiki

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tsunderesalty · 2 months

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Find the Word...Love Edition!

Find the word...but the them is love! All kinds of love! Familial, romantic, platonic, you name it! (Def didn't steal the intro from my best friend).

Words For Me To Find

Partner, Proposal, Adore, Intimate, Respect

Words For You To Find

Touch, Sympathy, Help, Smile, Reach

I'm not tagging anyone because this has been passed around a bit, but feel free to jump in if you want!

It took me a while to find these, so here we go!

Partner: Shining Woods

The orange-haired woman stood silently for a few minutes as she watched her partner before asking quietly, “Is there anything I can do to prepare the spell, Luna?” “I am able to do it myself, but I appreciate the offer, Ginny,” Luna smiled kindly at the Weasley, turning back momentarily to the text in the book. With nothing else to do, Ginny’s eyes wandered to the forest surrounding them, idly searching for something to focus her attention on and finding a slow-moving swarm of glowing insects drifting along through the open air, their blue light twinkling like stars. “They’re beautiful,” Ginny whispered gently, afraid to disturb the insects in any way as she tentatively reached a hand out in hopes that one of them would land on it. “Investio Palamus,” Luna said, barely casting a glance at the blue bugs, only looking when Ginny sucked down a sharp breath as one landed on her outstretched hand. “And yes, they are.”

Proposal: A Thousandfold

“What? Was it something I said or did?” Sai asked. “Well, no, more like something you didn’t say!” “I do not understand.” “You’re proposing to me, typically when a man proposes he will give a speech about why he’s doing what he’s doing. Not to sound vain, but I’d kinda like that!” Sai pondered that for a moment before a small smile crossed his lips and took his scroll from where he had left it, then began to furiously write on it. When he had finished what he wrote, he fused chakra into the scroll and the ink took the form of a large hummingbird, flying around Ino’s head before it dissolved onto the blanket in front of her and morphed into legible characters. “I may not be able to convey my feelings for you accurately with my words,” Sai said as Ino glanced down at his writing, “But I hope my words will suffice.”

Adore: Bottles of Laughter (I actually co-wrote this fic with my best friend @axolotlsupremacyowo, and she wrote this section. This is also OCs of mine, which makes me love it even more that Pancakes wrote it.)

The two continued to throw baseballs at the bottle towers, and surprisingly? Jaya was actually pretty good at this game. She was able to knock down the bottle towers with such pinpoint accuracy that it almost scared Kassandra, just as much as it made her adore her. It’s not like Jaya had much competition, anyways. They were the only ones there and Kassandra was barely trying. Just as Jaya had toppled down another bottle tower, their eyes both met, and the smile on her face made the annoying loudness of the carnival worth it.

Intimate: None. Somehow, with over 420 thousand words, I have not used "Intimate" once. You win, @oceangirl24.

Respect: Fated to Die but Hoping to Live

“Itadori,” Megumi coughed into the dark, catching his attention immediately. “What’s up, Fushiguro?” Itadori asked, leaned over as he sat on a wooden log. “I need to tell you something,” Megumi continued, “I’ve only known you for a short while, but I’ve come to respect you as a Jujutsu Sorcerer and a person.” “Thanks, man!” “I’m not finished!” Megumi grunted lightly, annoyed at the interruption. “I don’t much care for these feelings, and it would be irresponsible for me to not inform you of them seeing as how our future is bleak, but I do…like you.” “I like you too!” Megumi stared blankly at Itadori over the fire before clarifying, “As in romantically, genius, not friendly.” “I know,” Itadori nodded, causing confusion inside of Megumi.

And that's that for this one! Thanks for giving this all a listen!!

#find the word tag #find the word game #find the words #tag game #my fanfiction #my fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #writing

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loominggaia · 7 months

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How do deepwater cecaelia and normal cecaelia communicate with each other if deepwaters can't speak and normals don't have glowy spots? How do they ever interact if deepwaters are blinded in most light and ormal cecaelia should be crushed by the deep water. How does Mr. Kraken communicate with his tribe

Those are great questions! I actually need to update the Deepwater cecaelia section because I retconned some stuff about them a while back. I will share some of those changes here:

All cecaelia can cope with high ocean pressures because of the innate magic within them, but the feeling of high pressure waters is uncomfortable for those who are not acclimated to it. It can take a long time to fully acclimate, so other cecaelia don't like to spend extended time at extreme depths.

Deepwater cecealia are blinded in brightly-lit environments, but a dark environment with small lights is fine. Think about a sunny day vs. stars twinkling at night. The Deepwater cecaelia's environment more closely resembles the night sky. The "Stars" don't bother them, they actually become extra visible due to the dark surroundings.

Deepwater cecaelia use this dark environment to their advantage. Sound carries poorly at such depths, so they use visual and telepathic methods to communicate. Their "bioluminescence" is actually a spell they cast on themselves. Light spells are the most simple form of magic, so easy that even toddlers can learn them. So, they also communicate by casting little illusions of light to form pictures/glyphs and written words. Many also communicate telepathically. It depends on the individual Deepwater tribe and culture.

As for Mr. Kraken...

This guy is so colossal, his voice so deep and speech so slow, that he is basically unintelligible to smaller creatures. Wen he speaks, it barely sounds like a voice at all, but more like rolling thunder. Because of this, he has learned to communicate like the Deepwater tribe who cares for him, by casting magical glyphs made of light. He also casts light spells on his body that resemble bioluminescence, expressing his mood and needs through color and patterns.

Questions/Comments?

Lore Masterpost

Read the Series

#looming gaia #ask #askcecaelia #askculture

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whimsydee · 5 months

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Later (fiction) ~ 2/3

Part 2

I have just pulled out a cigarette from my pocket (my last one) and am in the process of patting myself down in search of a lighter when the door of the toilet right opposite me swings open and hits the wall with a bang.

“Sorry.” It's the young girl. “Toilet.”

She comes and stands by me.

“Cigarette?” she exclaims, sounding amazed and repulsed at the same time. I've already lit my cigarette, so I don't bother to answer. She can move away if she wants to. But she stands by the door too, looking outside with me.“

Are you from Bangalore?” she asks. I nod briefly and exhale some smoke outside. “I see, that explains it.”

“Explains what?” I'm compelled to ask.

“You're from the city. Always in a hurry. City folk are always in a hurry.”

“Huh?” The cigarette dangles from the side of my mouth.

“You were checking your watch every ten minutes when the train stopped. And now you're smoking.”

I'm not sure how those two things are connected, so I don't reply.

“Always in a hurry,” she continues. “So much to do, not enough time to do it.”

I wonder why she is here, standing at my door in my spot, lecturing me.

“Where are you from?” I ask, slightly annoyed.

“I am from a small village.”

She gives a little laugh.

“I am not in a hurry like you. I have things to do, but God has given me enough time to get them done. I have enough time.”

“I am not always in a hurry,” I defend myself. “I'm just waiting for daylight to come.”

“What will you do when you reach Bangalore?” she asks.

I sigh loudly. This is what Indians are known for, the one stereotype that is actually so true it doesn't amuse me anymore: ferreting out every detail of your life from you without even knowing your name.

“College. Psychology.”

I'm in no mood to explain more. The train rattles with a deep groan and moves around a corner so sharp that the girl sways and I have to hold her arm to keep her from stumbling. Her arm is thin under the pink silk kameez she is wearing, and I am hit by the realisation that though she sounds quite mature and grown-up, I am, in fact, a whole decade older than she is.

“Thank you.”

She smiles at me and I remove the cigarette from my mouth and smile back. We both look outside again.

The landscape has changed this time. There are twinkling lights in the distance, and now and then a tower or water tank rises through the trees. We are passing through villages now. I can spot a star-shaped bulb in front of a few homes.

Oh yes, it's Christmas Day today – half an hour past twelve. The train slows down again, stopping with a shudder at a very tiny, poorly lit station. The station is empty of passengers. The only life we can spot is a stray dog taking a nap under a bench. A little tea-stall is open for the night, but the chai wallah is nowhere to be seen.

“This train stops here for more than twenty minutes,” the girl says. “Would you like some tea?”

“No!” I exclaim. Is she crazy? Stepping out of a train that might move any moment, onto a god-forsaken platform so deserted that the only source of light is the candle in the chai wallah's stall? No thanks.

“It won't move for twenty minutes,” she repeats. “Guaranteed.”

“How do you know?”

“This is a railway crossing. They have to bring hot water for the engines first. It will take more than twenty minutes. Look, other people are getting down.”

She is right. A few people have started trickling onto the platform, although I don't know how she can be so sure they are from this train. Before I can argue, she has dragged me onto the platform and people are swarming around the one tea stall. The owner, invisible all this while, appears all of a sudden, as if by magic, and soon everyone is sipping tiny cups of hot tea on a cold night. I keep an eye on our train, but the girl doesn't seem to be worried. Spreading newspaper over a section of the cemented platform, she urges me to sit down with her.

“Bangalore will be a new experience for me,” she says. “Tell me about it.”

“Tell me your name first.”

Part 3 here.

#fiction #creative writing #short story #published

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sukoonify · 6 months

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Sleep is a vital part of every child’s development, more so for premature infants. Their tiny bodies work overtime to catch up with their full-term peers, making rest an essential part of their growth. But getting a baby to sleep is not always an easy task. This is where the power of music comes into play.

Have you ever wondered why a lullaby for babies to go to sleep is often a parent’s first resort? Or why sleep music for kids is a booming industry? The answer lies in the soothing power of music. Music, with its rhythmic patterns and melodious tunes, can be a powerful tool in inducing sleep. It’s not just any music, but specifically designed Baby Music To Sleep that can make all the difference.

In the following sections, we will delve deeper into how music therapy can influence vital signs, feeding, and most importantly, sleep in premature infants.

The Power of Lullabies

Lullabies have been a part of human culture for centuries. Across the world, parents have sung lullabies for babies to go to sleep, providing comfort and promoting sleep. But have you ever wondered why these simple songs are so effective?

Lullabies are more than just songs; they are tools that can help regulate a baby’s sleep patterns. The rhythm and melody of a lullaby can mimic the comfort of a mother’s heartbeat, a sound that babies are familiar with even before they are born. This can create a sense of safety and security for the baby, helping them to relax and fall asleep.

Moreover, lullabies can also serve as a bonding activity between the parent and the baby. The act of singing can convey love and affection, further promoting a sense of security for the baby.

Music as a Sleep Aid

Music has long been recognized for its therapeutic effects, and its role as a sleep aid is no exception. Sleep music for kids is a genre that has gained popularity over the years, and for good reason.

Sleep music typically features slow tempos, gentle melodies, and smooth rhythms, all of which can help to slow down the heart rate and breathing, lower blood pressure, and even trigger the muscles to relax. This can be particularly beneficial for children who may have trouble falling asleep or staying asleep.

But it’s not just any music that can do the trick. Music that is specifically designed for sleep, often referred to as baby music to sleep, can be particularly effective. This type of music is often composed with specific frequencies and rhythms that can help to induce a state of relaxation and promote sleep.

Music Therapy for Premature Infants

When it comes to premature infants, their needs are unique and delicate. One such need is the requirement of a peaceful sleep environment, which can be facilitated by baby music to sleep. This is where music therapy comes into play.

Music therapy for premature infants involves the use of carefully selected and structured music to create a calming environment. The goal is to mimic the womb’s environment, a place that was the baby’s first home. The rhythm and vibrations of the music can resemble the mother’s heartbeat and the whooshing sounds of blood flow, which the baby heard while in the womb.

Research has shown that music therapy can have a positive impact on the vital signs of premature infants. It can help stabilize their heart rate, improve their feeding habits, and most importantly, enhance their sleep quality. The soothing effect of the music can help the baby relax, reducing stress levels and promoting deeper and longer periods of sleep. This Baby sleep music playlist with lullabies for babies to go to sleep is just amazing. Soothing songs like Rock a Bye Baby, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and sweet nursery rhymes as lullaby song : [iFRAME <iframe style="border-radius:12px" src="https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/4Iaqmo9aUjs3RO9i4OoGsC?utm_source=generator" width="100%" height="352" frameBorder="0" allowfullscreen="" allow="autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; fullscreen; picture-in-picture" loading="lazy"></iframe> ]

Conclusion

In the journey of parenting, especially for those with premature infants, every little help counts. Music, particularly baby music to sleep, can be a powerful ally in this journey. The soothing rhythms of a lullaby or the calming melodies of sleep music can make a significant difference in your baby’s sleep patterns and overall development.

Remember, as parents, you are doing an incredible job, and every small step you take contributes to your child’s growth. So, whether it’s singing a lullaby for babies to go to sleep or playing sleep music for kids, know that you are making a difference.

We hope this blog has provided you with valuable insights into the world of music therapy for premature infants. Stay tuned for more such informative and helpful content. Happy parenting!

#Baby Music To Sleep #lullaby for babies to go to sleep #Lullabies For Babies #Baby Lullaby Songs #Lullaby Songs For Babies #Baby Lullaby Music #Sleep Lullaby

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s3899602 · 10 months

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Blog #6 - Week 5

Pharos

I finally found out why some presets don’t go where I want them to. It’s because they actually have a specific place they need to go. I found this out because when I was placing in the audio file it wouldn’t let me just drag and drop it into the timeline, I had to scroll down to ‘Simulation Audio’ and place the music in there. This is the same for some of the presets, they go in the ‘Ceiling’ section right at the bottom. I’m very glad that I figured that out and answered another one of my questions.

Sound Design

I spent a few hours creating a little draft for the sound design for my ‘running scene’ idea. It was in no way polished but I thought it would give an idea of what I was going for.

Didn’t work. My original plan, ✨Plan A ✨, was to record the audio myself, but I wanted to have something to show a quick proof of concept so I thought I might as well do it since I had some time. To record original audio, I think a quiet park would be best to record the running, and I will borrow a Zoom H4n to record everything. I’m not going to give up hope quite yet as I think there is something to my idea here, I really think, if done right, I can immerse the audience into a scene and create my heightened experience. But I fear even if I do it right I won’t achieve the feeling I’m going for. Otherwise, Plan B is to create lighting design for a piece of exhilarating music, which I definitely could do, but the problem is I have looked around and can’t find anything I would be interested in creating lighting for. I think I might have attached myself too much to my original idea, but I don’t want to let go yet because I haven’t done all I could do to try and make it work.

Plan B

Turns out I can record the audio from any song on Spotify by screen recording on my iPad, airdropping to my computer and converting the mp4 file to wav. Easy and helpful, and I will bring my iPad to class in case anyone else needs me to record audio for them or wants me to show them how to do it. I looked up how to do the same thing on a mac and I’m not sure if screen recording works on a macOS like it does on IOS. I also found an extremely helpful website that has almost every game soundtrack that exists. It was super helpful for me when looking for exhilarating songs. Unfortunately, while I did find a few good ones, nothing jumped out at me. Luckily, I was thinking about songs that make me feel exhilarated/excited/energised and I thought about Kingdom Dance by Alan Menken (from Tangled) and how I could do so many different things with the lighting design to push the feeling of exhilaration. I’ll get some opinions when I do a mock up of the lighting to show in week 6.

Capitol Test #2

Blue needs to be vibrant to show

Lights on ceiling cut out weird even though I did a 10s fade

Ask Ryan what he meant about the light being able to go faster

Top of the arch orange/red with walls yellow

Sparkle wasn’t working at the top, I need to change to a dark blue. Although Sarah asked for twinkling stars. I'm not completely sure what I should do. I might do a trial for both, but the white was a bit strong so I wonder if I can change the colour to grey to make it less white and more of a subtle sparkle. I will see what I can do with the preset otherwise I'll try it manually.

Redefining Exhilaration

Merriam-Webster’s definition of exhilarating is ‘causing great emotional or mental stimulation’ and the example is ‘no recording can capture the exhilarating feeling of being at a live rock concert’. I really need to think about what will make a majority of people feel exhilarated, not just myself. I need to stop thinking too outside the box with how I approach exhilaration, because it’s very formulaic, and if I don’t get it right, no one will feel exhilarated.

Colours

I think I have figured out how the colours work in the Capitol but it would be helpful to go through them all and get a demonstration of the colours with their RGB values to see what they show up as.

To-Do

Go out and record running/breathing for the running scene to see if it could possibly work for exhilaration (Plan A) if not, refer to plan B

Create lighting design for Kingdom Dance to see if that could work instead (Plan B)

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five-rivers · 3 years

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Three Twilights

Can be considered a loose sequel to Deep Sea Diver (same vibes).

Warnings: Soft body horror, Danny totally ignoring objectively horrifying things

“I was thinking,” started Maddie over breakfast, “we could start observations of that island that came into view last week, the blue one.”

Danny shook his head. “You’ll have to use the Speeder, then,” he said. “I’ve got an errand to run.”

There was a pause as both of Danny’s parents looked at him, confused. He didn’t blame them. Danny rarely went out as a human anymore, and certainly not for anything like errands. Looking like he was still fourteen after all this time made doing anything even remotely official difficult.

But this wasn’t a human errand. “Yeah,” said Danny. “In the Ghost Zone. I’ve got to go to Three Twilights.”

“Where?” asked Jack.

“It’s, um, a city,” said Danny. “Well, three cities, I suppose, depending on how you want to group them. One Realm. On the shores of the Celestial Sea. I’m sure I’ve put it in your files.” Probably a direct copy from his files from before he came clean to them, but still. He stirred his cereal counterclockwise, letting his ice powers chill the milk.

“Yes,” said Maddie, “but there are a lot of places in there. I’m not sure we’ve had a chance to properly look at them all, much less memorize them.”

“Okay, yeah,” said Danny. “I guess that makes sense.”

“What kind of errand are you running, Danno?”

“I’m picking something up for a friend. A book,” he clarified. “They lent it to someone there, but they need it back.”

“A book,” said Maddie. “For the Library of Tongues?”

“No, they’ve got a contract service for overdue loans.”

“Contract service?” asked Jack.

“Yeah. Moonlighting bounty hunters mostly.”

“For a library?”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” said Danny, shrugging. “They’re really serious about their work.”

“If it isn’t for them, who is it for?” asked Maddie. “The princess? Wulf?” Wulf had actually been over a few times, and his parents had… Well, saying they got along would be an overstatement, they didn’t really have anything in common beyond ripping portals in the fabric of the universe, but everyone had been civil. “The boy at the school?”

“No,” said Danny. “Wulf would just get it himself.”

“Who, then?” pressed Maddie.

Danny put a spoonful of cereal in his mouth, delaying. Maddie hadn’t eaten anything since Danny had mentioned the errand. The errand was, in fact, for Clockwork. Danny was always more than happy to do anything for Clockwork. The older ghost had saved him too many times for him to be otherwise. But Jack and Maddie were wary of Clockwork. Danny didn’t get it, but talking about it hadn’t been productive so far.

He didn’t want to lie to his parents. Not ever again.

“It’s for Clockwork,” he said.

Ah, yes, there were those suspicious looks. The ones Danny could have interpreted even without being able to almost literally taste emotions.

“I see,” said Maddie.

“Anyway,” said Danny, quickly, “if I haven’t shown you Three Twilights yet, it’s really cool. I don’t want to take the full rig, but maybe the little ectocam would be okay? The one that I can clip on.”

“Why not the normal camera with an ectofilter?” asked Jack. “That has more features, and it’s easier for us to get data from.”

“Three Twilights. It’s dark there,” said Danny. “It might work in Civila, but not so much in Naŭtika and Astronomia, and I sort of want to go down to the beach and see if I can find any star pearls, and that’s really dark, so if you want to see anything properly, it’ll have to be the sonar setup, which I’m not doing, the noises that thing makes are offensive, or the ectocam.”

“And the Fenton Phones?” asked Maddie.

“Sure,” said Danny. “But I always bring those.”

“Yes,” said Maddie, after a moment. “You do.”

“Great. It’s settled, then.”

Most of the journey to Three Twilights could be made by air. Or, rather, what passed for air in the Infinite Realms. But when the rocky edge of an island came into view, Danny touched down. Further in was a blue wood, and Danny walked under its inviting branches.

The atmosphere started sunny, summery. The leaves and needles of the trees were the color of a clear blue sky. But as he got deeper, the leaves were touched with sunset colors: golds, reds, oranges, purples, and pinks. They fell to the ground, crunching beneath Danny’s feet. The sunset grew longer, deeper. The leaves on the trees grew sparser, revealing patches of sky.

By the time only bare branches framed the sky, it was a dusky, dim, purple. A few lonely stars twinkled in the sky.

He passed out of the forest. The city of Civila rose above him. Windows glowed in the near dark like eyes.

Danny had changed, too. His aura had dimmed. The whites of his suit were now dark gray, and patterns swirled on its surface like camouflage, like wind-twisted clouds, like nebulae.

Shadows bled around the corners of the city buildings like ink in water. Will-o-the-wisps bobbed, casting pools of illumination in lieu of streetlamps. Ghosts walked up and down the streets, or floated only a few meters up.

The buildings glittered. Everything was dark, vibrant, colors. A sharp, sweet scent filled the air, something dark and rich beneath it.

The canals in the center of the street were filled with flashing fish. Or perhaps serpents. Or perhaps worms. Between how fast they moved and the dimness of the light, it was difficult to tell.

Danny could feel his irises contracting, shrinking down to needle-thin rings. His teeth were sharp. He matched the other ghosts around him. This was how the Civila liked it, how things were in this part of Three Twilights.

Everything in order. Everything peaceful. Everything civil.

Danny walked through the market square, and bought some charcoal-colored cherry pastries from a vendor who looked like someone’s nightmare demon with a chip of ghost ice.

Much to his parents’ protests. They didn’t care for him eating ghost food.

There were seven bridges to Naŭtika, which was built half underwater and half on boats that floated both on the water and in the air. As the dark waters of the inlet lapped at his feet, Danny felt the changes ripple across his skin. To a human, he would look pure black, except for the faintest glimmer of rim lighting and the stars of his eyes. He and the other ghosts moved silently, cutting through the waters like shadows.

To Danny’s ghostly senses, the place was alive with emotion and force, energy loud and crackling against his senses.

“We’re solely on the ectocam, now,” said Maddie. “You were right about that.”

“Mhm,” said Danny, half distracted by a whispered sea-shanty backed by a choir of not-voices and not-sound that wove together with the mastery of a hundred years of practice.

He glided up a rope net, and began to navigate the ropes to the taller ships. The very tallest, the ones that scraped the ever-darkening sky and blotted out uneven sections of stars, moored the glass-like ships that floated above. He’d need to reach them, to get to Astronomia.

“What’s that?” asked Maddie, breaking his concentration on his path.

“What’s what?” asked Danny, whisper soft, drawing some looks. He turned, slowly, on the spot, planks barely creaking under his steps. A gentle wind ruffled his hair.

“There,” said Maddie. “By the ghost that’s registering red.”

It had taken Danny a long time to learn what color on the ectocam’s artificial sensor signified what, but he had, if only to reduce the guessing when they played this game.

“Star pearls,” said Danny, eyeing the ropes of stone that glimmered brighter than his eyes currently did. They were one of the only reliable forms of light, out on the Celestial Sea, although they were valued for other things, too.

“They’re putting out a massive amount of energy,” said Maddie.

“You mentioned them before,” said Jack. “You wanted to look for some?”

“On the shore,” said Danny. “Out past Astronomia.” He wanted to find his own, rather than buy them.

Partially because they were expensive. He didn’t really want to think about how much unmelting ice he’d have to conjure up to equal one of them. They were usually bartered in exchange for… more significant things.

The ghost by the pearls beckoned him closer, clearly hoping to make a sale. Danny shook his head, broadcasting regret and admiration for his wares. Speech might be faster but, under these circumstances, it would not be polite.

When Danny left, the social rules of Three Twilights would only leave the faintest impression on his mind. But, for now, they were a heavy, but not uncomfortable weight. One he could shrug off if necessary, but which was currently useful.

“What are they?” asked Maddie, as Danny turned away.

“They happen when big enough things fall into stars,” said Danny. “They’re all the memories of what they used to be… and the imagination of what they could become, when the star dies. Well, that’s what they’re supposed to be. I don’t think anyone really knows for sure.”

“And you can just… find these? Lying around?”

“Not… not really,” said Danny, slowly drifting towards a crow’s nest. “It’s like that one national park. That one where you can collect diamonds? You never really find anything good, but you can look.”

“I see,” said Maddie. “So, you don’t expect to find one?”

“Yes and no,” said Danny. “If I don’t expect to find one, I probably won’t. Unless the sea is feeling ironic, which it usually is, apparently. I mean, it’s an ocean and the stars. And prophecy is, like, ninety percent irony, but mostly for an outside observer. Which honestly makes sense, I think. An observer, not an Observant. Those are different things.”

The kind of silence on the other side of the line was the one that emerged when Danny used too much ghost logic.

“Anyway,” he continued as he scaled the crow’s nest and started traversing the glass ropes and chains to the all-but-invisible glass ships, “no, I don’t really expect to.”

The path to Astronomia was a staircase carved from moonstone harvested in October, when the moon was full and orange-red. It burned Danny’s eyes to look at and feet to walk upon. Like many ghosts who fixated on things like astronomy, he adapted quickly and thoroughly to the spiritual dark.

This darkest twilight was built of delicate bubbles, whorls, and arches of glass, any of which could cradle a ghost, all of which could be phased through with impunity. There were no true roads here, but certain places were easier to travel through. Addresses were carved in the glass in glimmering, holographic sigils made from glass-caught starlight that humans would never be able to read, but Danny could understand with a glance. It was not silent in Astronomia, the high wind sung through the glass like the immense instrument it was, playing ethereal and eternal music that mirrored heaven.

As always, Danny was enraptured. Perhaps the stars here were not true stars, only their memory and imagination (or simulacra made from stripped ghost cores, he remembered with a shudder), but he felt so close here.

“Danny? Are you still with us?”

Danny started to reply, but realized he had forgotten, once again, that he had no mouth here.

A phantabulist played a story for a group of not-quite-children, characters made of carefully constructed light chasing each other about with vigour. Danny stopped for a while to watch the story, a parable about spiders and fish. They were common here, storytellers who plied their craft this way. The stories could be pressed into glass prisms and orbs that served as books and viewed even in other environs of the Ghost Zone.

He moved on, passing through a glass bubble full of ghosts that snatched at and stroked him as he passed by, leaving stars and dark clouds to swirl across his skin. His suit had long since smoothed over and sunk in. His skin was a thin surface, a membrane holding in liquid night. He was like smoke, like vapour, thin and easily overlooked.

The places he passed were homes, places of business, warehouses, and hotels, organized without any apparent reason. A phantabularium glowed like a struck match, snatches of story visible inside its walls. He walked by.

Eventually, he reached the palace at the city center.

The ghost who lived there was old. Older, perhaps, than Pandora. She filled the vessels of her palace in placid pools connected by crystalized threads and looping tubes. Seven round-bottom flasks, radiating outward, like the spheres of heaven. The music here was almost deafening.

This was Urania, Muse of Astronomy. Astronomia was her city, and subordinate to her will before all else.

Danny resisted the urge to kneel. He was not here as a supplicant, and they both knew it.

The lowest pool bubbled, and slowly a glass prism, a dodecahedron, floated to the top. Danny took it with careful hands and left Urania’s direct presence as quickly as possible.

Being near her was always difficult. She was the Muse of Astronomy, and she felt he did not indulge his second Obsession as much as was proper.

Indeed, she thought it should be his first.

(The starlight inside him pulsed. He was never sure how much influence Urania could exert on him when he visited Three Twilights, never sure how much the relationship between his passions shifted when he was here. He loved it here too much to stay away forever.)

Astronomia did not end all at once. Instead, as one walked farther from the palace, the delicate, clear glass was replaced by black sand. When Danny had feet again, and could feel the grains beneath them, he knew he was no longer in Astronomia, but on the Shores of Night. The Isles of the Moon were faintly visible in the distance, sea-spray framing them in silvery halos.

He felt human here. His breath moved in his lungs, and his skin rose in goosebumps, the sleeves of his t-shirt fluttering in the wind. The sea and the sky were the same, and twice as beautiful for it.

“Sorry for going silent on you there,” said Danny. “I keep forgetting I don’t have a mouth there.”

“How do you forget that?” asked Jack.

“I don’t know.” Danny shrugged, even though he knew Jack couldn’t see him. “Do you think the ectocam might be able to spot buried star pearls?”

#danny phantom #ectoberhaunt 2021 #ectober 2021 #ectober #ectoberhaunt treat #danny totally ignoring objectively horribly things #worldbuilding

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alwritey-aphrodite · 2 years

Text

The Resistance

Chapter 4 of You Are In Love

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: modern!Poe Dameron x gn!reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: drinking, cursing

Author’s Note: this is the first time I’ve ever managed to write an actual slow burn

It takes you longer than you thought it would to finish your mural for Finn and Poe, with your limited time off and the even more limited time that your availability overlaps with theirs, but it gets finished and you feel beyond proud.

You had painted them a little section of outer space, complete with planets, stars, and moons. It was a little different than the work you typically do, but you knew that was what you wanted to paint once you saw the bar and its navy blue walls.

The piece fits seamlessly with the rest of the bar, and you’re on such a high from the completion of the painting and the endless praise from Finn and Poe that you don’t even fight them when they invite you to the bar and promise you drinks on the house.

You barely even worry as you get ready, fixing your hair and tugging on a “going out” dress that you barely wear, smiling at yourself in the mirror. You can’t remember the last time you felt so carefree, so confident, so effortlessly happy, and you’re still floating on air as you pull on your shoes when Rey and Rose knock on your door.

You’re greeted with wolf whistles and a “Goddamn!” from your best friends, adding more fuel to that joyful feeling in your chest. For a moment, you think about brushing off their compliments and muttering something about them being wrong, but instead you just duck your head and say thank you.

You’ve been missing the feeling of floating on air, and now that you have it, you’d do anything to keep it, including accepting compliments even when your brain screams that you don’t deserve them. But you try not to dwell on the negative thoughts worming their way into your head, and focus instead on the conversation Rey and Rose are having on the way down to the car.

From the bits and pieces you catch while you buckle yourself into the backseat, it sounds like a discussion of Rey’s coworker, a man named Kylo. According to their conversation, he continues to undermine her authority, despite the fact that she’s technically his superior. You tell her that she should just fire him, and while she laughs, you can tell from her eyes that she’s thinking about it.

Along the way, you end up tuning them out, turning your attention to the street lights that blur as you zoom past them and the warm night air rushing in through the open window. It’s the perfect weather to match your mood, warm and balmy even after the sun has set.

It’s your first time seeing the Resistance at night, and it looks completely different than it does in the mid afternoon sunlight. The entrance of the building is covered in twinkle lights, lighting up the brick façade. It feels warm and inviting, drawing you in like a moth to the flame.

You’re practically shaking, for once in your life not caused by anxiety, but by excitement. You let Rey and Rose lead the way into the building, trailing behind and admiring how different it looks in the moonlight.

The bar’s busy, but not too crowded to the point you’d feel claustrophobic. Practically every table and booth are filled, and so are most of the seats at the bar. But, as soon as you reach the bar, Poe is sliding your drink of choice into your hands, laughing at the look of shock on your face.

“I saw you guys come in, and I promised you free drinks, didn’t I?” There’s music playing and people talking, so he speaks louder than he normally would, but it doesn’t feel like you’re being shouted at.

“Thank you,” you reply as he works on Rey and Rose’s drinks, humming in delight when you take a sip.

“That’s the way you like it, right?” Poe asks, handing the girls their drinks and then pausing to look at you. You see relief wash across his face when you nod, and he adds with a proud smile, “I remember from game night.” And you can’t help but positively beam at that fact.

It seems unbelievable that Poe had managed to remember such a small thing about you when he has so many other things to worry about, especially related to drinks. But he remembers yours, even when you only had one at game night.

Your heart beats a little faster at the idea of Poe paying attention to something so small, closely enough to remember it almost a month later.

“It’s perfect,” you reply, before slapping a ten on the counter with a grin.

“Drinks are on the house, remember?”

“It’s your tip,” you reply, grin growing as Poe laughs, joy scrunching up his face in the most adorable way possible.

You don’t get to admire it for as long as you wanted to, because Rose is coming up next to you and tugging you away, leading you to an empty booth that Rey had managed to snag. You don’t feel bad though, because Poe’s busy and you know you’ll see him later, and you hope you can see him make that adorable face again.

You let your eyes wander around the room, taking in the buzzing of life and laughter that transforms the space into something completely different from the sun soaked empty room you’d been painting in.

You can see your mural on the opposite wall, an unconscious smile spreading across your face when your eyes land on it. You can’t even begin to describe the feeling that settles in your chest at seeing the final product, something you’d spent weeks planning and worrying and working on, and seeing so many people commenting on it.

This is the first time your art has been displayed in public, besides the small pieces that hang in Maz’s, but that’s different. Those are small canvases you’d painted for yourself that Maz had liked enough to hang up. This is a personalized mural for the Resistance, for Finn and Poe, and Poe will happily point you out to whoever who asks about the piece.

Most of the night you spend with Rey and Rose, laughing and catching up, but sometimes you go to get another drink and spend time talking with Poe, enjoying his smile and laugh and the way he seems so comfortable and confident behind the bar. There were also a few instances where other patrons had come over to compliment you on the mural, some even asking if you could do something for them or their businesses.

That made you feel lighter than air, and you’d caught Poe winking at you a few times after directing those patrons towards you.

You, Rey, and Rose stay at the Resistance far longer than you thought you would, and far longer than would have been possible if you weren’t friends with Finn and Poe. If this was any other bar, you would have been kicked out an hour ago. But instead, you’re sitting on a bar stool, finding it almost impossible to focus on the game of go fish when Poe’s standing right on the other side of the bar, happy and comfortable and beautiful.

The three of you had switched to drinking beer, so Finn and Poe didn’t have to do any more dishes. They even joined in, because technically the bar has been closed for almost an hour at this point, but none of you are quite ready to leave.

Instead, Finn had found a pack of cards behind the bar, and you all decided the easiest game to play was go fish. Even though you’re playing a children’s card game, Poe and Rose get ridiculously competitive, despite the fact that neither of them have won a single round.

But it doesn’t matter, because you’re happy and together and their playful shouting makes you burst out in laughter every time. The force of your love for these people hits you like a semi-truck, until you can feel the pressure of it on your chest. It’s not a constricting feeling, just one that’s impossible to ignore.

The game lasts another 30 minutes, until Rose is practically asleep, with her head resting on the bar. Finn offers to drop you off on his way to bring Rey and Rose safely home, but you aren’t quite ready to end the night, even if it’s the morning.

“I’ll lock up here, and then I can bring you home,” Poe offers, tying the cards back together with the rubber band they were found in.

“Are you sure?” While you want to jump at the offer, you really don’t want Poe to go out of his way for you, after everything he’s already done.

“Of course, it’s on my way,” he grins, and you know it’s a lie, but you say yes anyway because you’ll take any excuse to spend a little more time with Poe.

You help him wipe down the tables and bar while he takes out the trash, and soon enough you’re back in his passenger’s seat, the cool night air whipping your face as the streetlights blur past.

“You hungry?” He asks as you glance over at him and try not to stare at his profile, illuminated by the streetlights.

“I guess,” you respond before laughing because he’s already pulling into the parking lot of a 24 hour diner. “Were we going here no matter what I said?”

“No,” he says with a gentle smile and a soft look in his eyes that lets you know for sure he’s telling the truth, “I would have turned around if you asked me to.”

He grabs your hand in his, and gives it a squeeze as you walk towards the nearly empty diner. “I’m glad you agreed though, because I swear to god, these are the best waffles I’ve had in my entire life. You’ll never be the same after eating them.”

You laugh as he leads you to a sticky nylon booth and slides into the seat opposite of you. You both order the same thing, because now you need to try these supposedly life changing waffles. And, when you take your first bite, you admit through his over-the-top, far-too-loud-for-this-hour cheering, that they’re pretty damn good.

Your conversation starts out light, like updates about Poe’s cat, Bee, who recently decided that he only wants to sleep curled up in Poe’s bathroom sink or the new projects you're working on now that your mural for the Resistance is finished.

But, the conversation progresses naturally into the deeper, more substantial topics. You’d normally be anxious sharing so much with somebody so soon after meeting and becoming friends, and you could blame the alcohol or the late hour or how easy Poe is to talk to, but you don’t feel stressed at all.

“I never even went to college,” he says, pushing his empty, syrup covered plate towards the center of the table, “I joined right out of high school.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. Both of my parents were pilots in the Air Force, and my dad went commercial after my mom died when I was a kid. Did six years, met Finn, took over the Resistance for Leia.”

“Do you ever wish you hadn’t joined?” Your question makes him think, and with his heavy silence you’re worried that you’d pushed too far, that you aren’t close enough to ask him that type of question.

“No,” he finally answered, and you mentally let out a sigh of relief, “I think about what would have happened if I didn’t sometimes, and nothing would be the same. I wouldn’t have Finn or Rey or Rose or you, I wouldn’t be running the Resistance, I wouldn’t have gotten Bee. I mean, it wasn’t the best, but it brought me here, so it was good for something.”

He doesn’t say anything after that, instead taking a drink of the sugary sweet lemonade he has ordered while you mull over what he had told you. It’s comforting, you think, that every single decision you’ve made, bad or good, has led you to this point. It led you to Rose and Rey, to Finn and Poe, to your degree and your job at Maz’s, to the galaxy mural in the middle of the Resistance.

It led you right here, to a 24 hour diner, sitting in a sticky booth with Poe Dameron seated across from you.

“So what about you?” Poe asks, shocking you out of your thoughts and causing you to jump a little, which makes him stifle a laugh.

“What about me?” You counter and smile at the way Poe fails to suppress his grin.

“Anything. Your hopes, your dreams, your tragic backstory. Anything you want to tell me.”

“Well, I don’t have a very tragic backstory, but I don’t talk to my parents anymore because they suck. I had a typical childhood, nothing interesting ever really happened to me.”

“I’m sure you’ve got some wild stories hidden in that brain of yours.” Poe interrupts, shooting you a smile.

“Can I keep going?”

“Of course, of course,” he puts his hands up in mock surrender, and it’s your turn to smile for him.

“My dream… my dream is to be able to make art full time, enough to support myself. It’s not that I don’t love working at Maz’s, because I do, that’s just not what I want to do with my life.” You pause and gather your thoughts before continuing, “I want to get married someday, maybe have a few kids but definitely get a dog. We’d move out of the city, but not too far, to a house with a big backyard and a front porch. There’d be a garden, and I’d paint the front door yellow and the kitchen green.”

You didn’t realize you’d been rambling, and you also hadn’t realized the way Poe was staring at you. It made you feel butterflies, made you feel a weight in your chest you’d never felt before. You felt weightless and pulled down at the same, flying and sinking.

He clearly hadn’t realized he’d been staring, because he seems to jump when you accidentally slurp your drink a little too obnoxiously.

“That sounds… that sounds like a good dream,” he says, still a little starry-eyed, “You ready to go?”

Poe insists on paying, and when you try to tip he sticks it back in your purse when you aren’t looking. The drive to your apartment is similar to the drive to the diner with its silence, but now it feels weighty, like you’re both waiting for the other to say something important.

All too soon for your liking, Poe is pulling to a stop outside of your building. After unbuckling, you sit for a minute, trying to figure out the right thing to say before settling on squeezing his hand where it rests on the gearshift with a “Goodnight, Poe” and you turn around to give him a wave when you reach the door, one that he returns before driving off.

You hurry through your nighttime routine, and barely manage to pull back the covers before you’re flopping over and falling asleep. That joyful, floaty feeling returns as you slip into your dreams, and as you think of that dream life, you’re picturing Poe beside you.

Tags: @aellynera @userpoe @dailyreverie @stevenngrant @creatively-analytical @poopirate @luckynachos @captainpuffyrp @tiquinntheghost @sabxism @fallinallinmendes

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron fanfic #modern!poe dameron #modern!poe dameron x reader #modern!star wars #poe dameron x you #poe dameron au #poe dameron fanfiction #you are in love series

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alwaysmarveling · 3 years

Text

Call Me Back

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Warnings: death, a small sexual innuendo, and lots of commas and long sentences

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: You and Wanda promised each other you would always call to check in, and Wanda’s going to do her best to keep that promise, no matter what.

The first time you met Wanda was… well, when was the first time you met Wanda? Was it when wisps of red flashed in front of your eyes, projecting images so horrific and lifelike that you all but collapsed in a heartbeat? Or was it when she stepped forward to shake your hand timidly, grief and determination filling the witch as she promised to make up for it?

“I- I wouldn’t have done it if I… we were just trying…”

“Don’t worry about it,” you had told her with a smile before confiding in her about your own missteps, how you’d wreaked havoc on all of New York with your powers of body modification after your own parents died, how Fury finally got the Avengers to catch you, and how they quickly became your new family.

“You mean they really almost burned the kitchen down trying to make you a birthday cake?” The brunette giggled later that night as you recounted the story of your sixteenth birthday, the two of you sitting comfortably beside each other on the living room sofa.

“Yup. And when Nat showed up with an ice cream cake fifteen minutes later to find smoke in the living room, Sam told me she freaked on everyone.”

“Excuse me, Y/N, I did not do any ‘freaking.’ God, is that what you teenagers are calling it now?” The two of you erupted into laughter, and the redhead could do nothing more than shake her head, a smirk playing on her lips no matter how hard she tried to conceal it.

---

Much like Nat and Steve predicted, the two of you became fast friends. You sat next to each other on movie nights, sang karaoke in your room when you thought everyone else was asleep (if they weren’t awake when you started, they certainly were once you were thirty seconds into Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance With Somebody”), and, much to Steve’s dismay, when you finally became confident with your ability to grow wings on your back, snuck out regularly for late-night flights around the compound.

But you also insisted on being there for Wanda’s training sessions, even if it meant you had to wake up an hour earlier. You cradled the witch in your arms when she woke up night after night with an aching hole in her heart before you eventually insisted you guys just share a room. And you promised her, above everything else, that when you went out for anything, whether it be a quick grocery run or a month-long mission, you’d let her know you were okay.

You knew the promise she pleaded you to make was a result of the anxiety she suffered. She’d lost everyone she cared about; if a simple text or call was enough to put her at ease, you’d do it in a heartbeat.

---

“Wanda,” you’d whispered, the teen immediately sitting up straight when she’d heard the cracks in your voice. “I- I don’t know what to do. I’m safe, but...” She told you to stay there, don’t move, she’d be there in minutes. And, with your brain unable to function enough to think of any other option, you listened.

Her heart broke at the sight of you, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself and your head hung, you feet occasionally kicking the wet sidewalk. The neon sign of the restaurant your date had promised to meet you at illuminated one side of your face, allowing her to see the tears that you had tried but failed so desperately to hold in. But the witch didn’t let you see her emotions, instead whisking you away from the unfamiliar section of the city, brushing the tears off of your cheeks and bringing you to the twenty-four-hour diner for milkshakes. She made a fool of herself in front of the waitstaff until tears flowed from your eyes once again, but this time, the crystalline drops rolled down your raised cheeks, aching from smiling too hard.

When you had a panic attack during training because you couldn’t get one of your body modification attempts to reverse—”Wanda, I cannot be stuck with claws for hands, I can’t!”—she refused to let you hang up until the steady sounds of her own breathing calmed you down, the sharp nails receding and making way for the soft pads of your very human fingertips.

And when she called you after the mission in Lagos, you worked tirelessly to complete your own solo mission as soon as you could. You returned to the tower to find her holed up in the bedroom, news broadcasts playing nonstop on the television to remind her of the horrors she’d committed; accident or not, she told you, she needed to hold herself accountable. You simply shook your head at her, holding out your hand without another word. She didn’t take it at first.

“You can’t fix it, Y/N. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you.” She was expecting you to fight her back on it, yell at her and demand that she take your hand, or perhaps you’d go the complete opposite direction and leave her alone, let her be swallowed by guilt and anguish, rip open old wounds and form new ones as she thought of how she tore apart families that were probably much like her own. You did neither.

Wanda’s green eyes remained fixed on your outstretched hand. You stayed silent, one eyebrow cocked as if daring her to see what would happen should she choose not to take it. It was only then that she realized, for once in her life, the person she most loved wasn’t leaving; the support she so desperately needed wouldn’t be yanked away from her when it was mere centimeters from her grasp.

So she rested her fingers in the palm of your hand, and you pulled her out to the balcony where the two of you had spent night after night watching the stars instead of sleeping, making up funny names for each of them and rolling in fits of laughter that only came to those delirious and sleep-deprived enough to understand just what was so funny. Except, this time, instead of dropping into the oversized beanbag chair that was the usual spot of your stargazing shenanigans, she watched curiously as you removed your shirt. Her mouth dropped as you closed your eyes and allowed the white feathers to emerge from beside the ridges of your spine. Although it was a process she’d seen several times before, your modifications had never ceased to amaze her, and your angel-like wings had always been her favorite. The witch admired the additions as you allowed them to flap slowly, once, twice, before turning back to her.

“Let’s go,” you finally spoke, the order gentle but leaving no room for negotiation.

“Where are we going?”

“Away.” That was enough for the brunette, who squeezed your hand before following your lead. She allowed you to guide her through the maze of clouds and couldn’t help but smile softly as the sun’s rays hit your face at just the right angle. You wore the exhaustion from your recent mission on your face, and streaks of dirt covered the bruises that she was sure littered your body. But she was content, in awe, because you were you. You didn’t put up walls to hide your scars from the world, didn’t use passive-aggressiveness to hide the passion that burned in your heart. At the end of the day, you were good, purely and truly good. You were an angel; even the sun knew it.

What Wanda didn’t realize, but what you taught her that night, as she sat surrounded by sunflowers, the moon, thousands of gleaming stars, and the tickle of your feathers as your wing pulled her close to you, was that she was one too.

“I’m glad you called me,” you whispered, your eyes not leaving the open sky as you pointed out a particularly bright spot. “I’m gonna call that one… Philip. He looks regal, real proud. Look at him, so much brighter than the others, and he knows it too.” The witch breathed out a soft chuckle, stroking her fingers over your feathers as she responded.

“I’m glad I called you too. And I think Philip is a good name for him. What about that one?”

“Hmm… Walter? He’s a bit more serious, I think. But you see the one next to him?” You waited until you got a nod from the girl before continuing. “That’s his sister. She makes sure he has fun, even when he says he doesn’t want to. But you name her, Wands. Naming stars is a two-person job, you know.” She squeezed the elbow that you nudged her with before giving in.

“Alright… that’s Delia. And, yeah, she’s the best. The life of the party. Walter keeps her grounded, though,” Wanda added, to which you agreed to with a hum. You two fell quiet after that, enjoying the comfortable silence and looking up at the twinkling lights, some of them gaining names and stories, others waiting to be named another night.

“Wanda?”

“Yeah?”

“You call me if you ever need me, okay? I know we started this with me calling you, but I’m here for you too.” The witch met your eyes with a firm bob of her head, but you continued, desperate to make sure she understood. “And if I don’t pick up at first, you call me back, okay? Call me until I respond, promise?”

“I promise,” Wanda soothed gently. “I will.”

“Okay, good, good. Because,” Wanda felt a brush of your feathers against her upper arm as you fluttered your wings, slightly agitated, “because I think I love you. I mean, um, I know. I know I love you. I love you. Yeah, I-” Wanda shut you up with a kiss, her lips pressed urgently against yours. And if you hadn’t lost your breath from your rambling or your declaration of love to the girl of your dreams, then you most definitely lost it as your lips melted into hers, in the comforting warmth of her palm against your cheek, and in the words that left her mouth as you finally pulled apart, breathless.

“I will, Y/N, I promise. Because I love you too.”

---

People thought you were inseparable before you started dating, but they all realized how wrong they were after that night. The two twin beds quickly became a queen-sized mattress, sideline support during training sessions became fierce yet playful spars, and the private giggles you guys shared grew tenfold. Fury wasn’t exactly happy that his unofficial daughter was now dating, but he was pleased by how efficiently the two of you worked together, which led you to this moment, the two of you covering the Quinjet while waiting for the rest of the Avengers to finish their business inside the massive Hydra base. With Wanda covering the ground and you in the sky, flying with the white-feathered wings that Wanda loved so dearly, the two of you held off the swarms of Hydra agents relatively well. With a small break in between incoming agents, Wanda looked up to check on you, but she was a moment too late. Before she could even think to warn you, the pure feathers she loved to brush her fingers through fell from the sky, the white stained with red, your screams ripping through her eardrums.

No one, including Wanda, had time to think as she exploded with a new rage, one that hadn’t run through her in years. One that she hoped she would never experience again, but here she was. And there you were.

While you were held in the air by her signature red mist, the opposing agents fell to the ground. She didn’t care about their screams, only yours. And with them all dealt with, she could turn to you, rushing you both into the Quinjet and yelling for the other Avengers to get back here, now.

But her efforts were futile. She could press down on the wounds all she wanted, beg for you to come back until her voice was nothing more than a whisper, but nothing would work. You were gone the instant the missile had hit you, and as much as Wanda wanted to deny the truth, she knew it just as much as your other teammates did when they rushed onto the Quinjet. You were gone before you could say a single goodbye.

---

The first time Wanda called was from your shared bedroom. She dialed your number before tracing the pillow where your head would have laid, running her fingers over the cartoon carrots that covered the comforter. The yellow bedding set was a gag gift Tony had gotten the two of you when you got your new bed.

“You know, since I figure the two of you will be going at it like rabbits,” he winked before getting immediately smacked in the back of the head by Steve.

“They will be doing no such thing,” the supersoldier had chastised him with a roll of his eyes. “God, Stark, sometimes I forget you have a brain when you say such stupid things.”

But you loved it, telling Wanda, “The carrots remind me of you, Bunny.” And how could she return the present when you were being so sweet about it? But the sheets didn’t make her smile in the same way they once did because you were gone. No one was there to tease her about the way her nose wiggled much like the little white fluffy creatures or promise to get her carrots from the market the next day.

The call went to voicemail, and as bittersweet as it was, Wanda savored it because it was you. Your voice. But the beep came far too soon, and your turn was done. So she spoke.

“Y/N, hey, it’s me, Wanda. I, um, I love you. I’ll always love you, yeah?” The witch put the phone down, thinking that was all she could bear to say as the lump in her throat ballooned in size and hot tears filled her eyes. But just before time was up, her hand shot up to press the device against her ear again. “Call me back, milaya.”

---

The second time Wanda called was from the balcony. The brunette eyed the sparkling diamonds that filled the sky, wondering how you could be gone when, the last time she was here, you were right there beside her, laughing over the boys’ latest shenanigans and Ned, the newly named star.

Now, the beanbag chair felt too big, too empty without another person sitting next to her. Without you. So she dialed your number, the only number she bothered to learn by heart, and waited for the dulcet tones of your voice. As the dial tone rang, she ran one hand over the white feather that laid gingerly in her lap. Natasha had given it to her along with several others a few days after your death. Each of the team members had one to remember you by, but the spy had picked out the biggest and most brilliant ones to give to Wanda.

“I know how much her wings meant to you-” Natasha stiffened as Wanda threw her arms around her. But the witch didn’t care, her tears soaking the redhead’s shirt as she tried to find the words to thank her. She couldn’t, but it was okay. Natasha knew anyway. Wanda had little time to reflect on the memory before her face brightened at the sound of your voice.

“Hi, this is Y/N-

“And her girlfriend, Wanda! She’s taken, so don’t even think about it, you jerk!” Wanda smiled slightly at your jubilant laughter, remembering how you’d pushed her away for interrupting you.

“I’m not available right now, but leave me your name, number, and message and I’ll call you back as soon as I can, okay? Talk to you soon.” The witch’s eyes closed slightly as the greeting ended with a spell of your giggles before it was interrupted by that damn beep. God, how she hated that beep. Nevertheless, she took a breath and spoke out into the clear night sky, looking up at the stars as she did so.

“Hi, lyubov moya, it’s me. Wanda. I’m calling you back, just like you told me to. I’m not okay. I need you. I love you.” Her breath caught in her throat, forcing her to pause for a moment, but she forced herself to keep going a second later. “Sam and Bucky did the stupidest thing today. Nat and Steve were all over their asses. You should’ve seen it. I miss you. Please, call me back. I’ll tell you all about it.”

---

The last time Wanda called was from the sunflower field. The two of you hadn’t been here since the night you told her you loved her. In fact, it took Wanda several hours to find it since she hadn’t been paying much attention to the route the first time you came.

Once again, the night was clear, the stars lighting up the dark canvas with their radiance. She missed the feeling of your wing wrapped around her, of your presence next to her. But she had one of your feathers in her fingers and your voice in her ear, and to ask for more would be greedy, right?

“Hi, angel. It’s Wanda. I’m calling you back to leave a message, but I can’t do it again after this because I don’t want your voicemail to fill up, okay? I’m sorry, I know I’m being selfish, but I need to be able to hear your voice, so I can’t let it fill up. But I haven’t forgotten you, I promise I haven’t. I never will. I’m still-” Wanda swallowed, a fighting effort to calm the waver in her voice. “I’m still not okay, but I’m trying. For you. But I’m not okay, I need you to call me back. I’ve named one up there Halia, but her twin sister needs a name. And naming stars is a two-person job, you know.” The witch sniffed once as the corner of her lip curved up slightly, remembering the playfulness in your voice when you’d first said the line. “Call me back, Y/N, please.”

With the message over, Wanda clutched the phone to her chest, her breaths becoming faster and shallower as she closed her eyes, trying to accept the knowledge that it’d be the last time she’d ever leave a message, the knowledge that she was really losing you… the knowledge that she already lost you.

---

Months went by. Wanda wasn’t sure how they did, but they did. The first sign of it was the first Halloween without you, as she saw the other couples dressing up in matching costumes that you would’ve loved, costumes you would’ve pointed out to Wanda with an excited bounce and told her you’d have to wear next year. The next was Thanksgiving, when Wanda ran through the list of everything she was thankful for and came up short when she thought about the people she still had left. And then it was Christmas, and Valentine’s Day, and the first day of summer.

And while Wanda did her best to move on, she always found herself under the stars, dialing your number. She sat on the balcony, in the sunflower field, wherever she could see the sky, and she listened to your voice telling her that you’d call her back as soon as you could, always forcing herself to hang up a second before the beep could cut you off. Wanda named every other star she saw, leaving the ones in between for you and hoping that you’d approve of the names she chose.

“I’m naming that one Angel for you, Y/N,” Wanda murmured. “It’s even brighter than Philip. It’s the brightest star in the sky. I know you think it’s silly to name things after people, but this one’s just special, so you’re gonna have to make an exception, okay?” The brunette’s lips stopped moving, but her eyes stayed wide open as she watched the star as if, if she watched it long enough, studied it hard enough, you would materialize from its luminescence. As if you would come back to her. But when you didn’t, she finally allowed her watering eyes to rest, her eyelids drooping to surround her in darkness.

“I’m not okay, Y/N.” The witch’s voice was softer than it had ever been, more tired. But this time, there was no one to whisk her off and make her forget the heaviness of it all. “I need you so badly. I love you so much. I always will. But, please, angel, call me back.”

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