Tumgik
#shut up saskia
finngualart · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
some drawings i did for funsies and for practise based on these photos
197 notes · View notes
deemacs · 10 months
Text
no but really there is something morbidly ironic about 60 people seeking refuge calling for help for 12 hours with more than half of them dying in the exact timespan where everything is done to search for 5 people who got lost because they just wanted to have a little fun for 250k. in the same timespan in which there's people saying calling attention to 500 dead/missing refugees on sea is whataboutism. now there's a direct comparison. but i guess these things aren't comparable because uh those 60 people could have easily died anyway if they didn't try to escape and uhhh the others would have been super safe extreme if they hadn't decided to sign a few waivers saying they could die if they got into the under water death capsule and then got into the under water death capsule.
22 notes · View notes
izzymalec · 5 months
Text
life's tough as a mika lover but a french hater
3 notes · View notes
lili-elbe · 7 months
Text
g-d i wish i had just one real friend
5 notes · View notes
nekosaskia-v2 · 8 months
Text
hhhhhhhhhhgg having a real Bad Brain Day™ but know i'm too broke to do anything about it to help cope without just being irresponsible and pushing a worse situation on myself at the start of next month. Things were so much easier when i could just smoke weed about it but as we've established then my lungs will literally just start killing me again if i do that.
1 note · View note
100hearteyes · 1 year
Text
The reason why I love Saskia so much and think she's hands down the best character of Class of '07 (in a cast full of really great characters) is that she's never just one thing or the other.
She was an awful bully and queen of the school, yet that school is also where she lived her biggest trauma. But the show never uses one thing to negate nor excuse the other; only uses it to inform and deepen Saskia's character.
Going back to the role of Queen Bee is torture and eats away at Saskia, because that's a side of herself she worked very hard to leave behind, and she only does it because she truly believes it's their only way of surviving. And we see it in those moments where she says people have no idea how much it hurts her to revert back to her mean girl persona and how much she resents Amelia for making her do it. She hates it.
However, she also almost revels in it, as it comes oh so easily and naturally to her. And she admits that she doesn't feel anything when she sees Laura collapse, she "murders" Sandy, manipulates conversations with Zoe and Teresa, shuns Genevieve, etc because she's doing what she has to to survive, keep riding, like he said, but also... It's like something in her shut off. And also came alive at the same time (we see that happening in real-time when she breaks in front of Teresa - who had just lost a toe, but that was also Saskia's thing until later in the season, how her pain seemed to matter more or something - and then when T bursts at her she shuts down and back into mean girl). And she hates that more than anything, as she admits, that she worked so hard to leave the mean girl behind and then it's so damn easy to be her again.
And then, she explodes. She goes ballistic on Renee and Phoebe, and when she's finally caught for "killing" Sandy she's willing to take her punishment. Relishes the opportunity to finally leave the mean girl behind. But then, she's confronted with just how much she hurt all the girls in her class, and she understands that her pain doesn't negate that, and she fully accepts her punishment. Becomes numb to everything that's happening to her, even.
I think Saskia only truly starts healing when Sister Bicky shows up and they have that conversation about him and how the faculty should have done more to deter him.
She's never just the bully, she's never just Queen Bee, she's never just the girl who was taken advantage of my a teacher, she's never just the byproduct of her trauma. She's never just sad or angry or guilty or cold. She's never just either victim or perpetrator. The villain or one of the heroes. She's all of those things all at once, and she can and does change from one facet to the other in a fraction of a second.
Speaking of whom, Saskia's complexity also shows in how she (rightfully) blames him for fucking her up, but also still remembers him in key moments (that line, "I don't understand how the person who fucked you up so badly could also be the voice of encouragement that you need to go on," is brilliant) and gets jealous when she finds out this other girl lasted longer, and still relies on her memories of him to find the strength to keep up the mean girl persona, for the sake of the group. Those are normal - and heartbreaking - consequences of that type of trauma, of course, but they also show just how layered Saskia is and how up to a point - and even if, like Genevieve said, she was a bully before year 12 - her trauma informs her mean girl bullying, and the bullying and inhabiting the mean girl skin again deepens the trauma.
She's possibly my favorite pseudo villain ever.
Anyway, Saskia is a fantastic character and that's thanks to the writers and Caitlin Stasey.
286 notes · View notes
comfort-questing · 2 months
Text
8. "why won't it stop?"
"there's nothing more I can do." the herbalist sighed and sat back on her heels, letting the flap of her satchel fall closed.
"but we can't leave him like this." the adventurer knelt by her companion where he lay curled up under the blanket, her hands caught in his white-knuckled grasp as shudders ran through his body. "he's in pain."
"I've given him as high a dose of the numbing medicine as I can. I think we have to wait out the venom, now. I'm sorry."
the quiet sound of the door shutting behind the herbalist rang loud in the silence of their little room, hardly a closet under the inn staircase. the adventurer blinked away the tears in her eyes and looked down at her companion.
"I'm sorry," she echoed, in the sudden stillness.
"Saskia. you - are you - there - " her companion's voice was a raspy whisper, his eyes tightly shut. there was blood on his lip where he had bitten down, darker than the splashes of spilt medicine that he hadn't managed to swallow the traces of.
"of course I'm here, can't you feel? you're squishing my hands." she didn't bother trying to wipe the tears back this time, sniffling helplessly. "don't worry. I'm staying here. you'll - you'll be all right soon - "
"it - hurts. why - why won't it stop - " his words ended in a choked-off moan, another shock of shivering going through him.
"we're trying. I'm so sorry."
he forced his eyelids open, barely, wandering gaze searching for her face above him. "am I going - to die? it - it feels - like dying."
"no. no, you're not going to die. it's just... going to hurt, for a while." she bent over him, brushing her lips against his sweat-damp forehead. "that'll teach us to go hunting in wyvern territory..."
the ghost of a laugh, hollow in his throat.
"that'll - teach us."
"but I'm staying here. I'll - I'll be right here, all right? no matter how long it is."
"how - long." he shuddered again, drawing his breath in between clenched teeth. "thank - you..."
he still wasn't letting go of her hands. she couldn't feel her fingers very well now, but in the grand scheme of things there were worse problems to have. she swallowed hard, licking her dry lips.
"of course. that's - all I can do, but I'll do it."
he didn't answer, but turned his head so it rested against her knee, and bit his bloodied lip again as the next wave of pain crested over.
25 notes · View notes
withoutyouimsaskia · 1 year
Text
Remember Me, Special Dreams Part XXII.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25
Tumblr media
GIF: Originally posted by @vampgf
Summary: Self-insert. You're having trouble with recurring night terrors and Morpheus pays you a visit. (Title from the lyrics of Placebo’s Special Needs)
Warnings: language, angst, mentions of night terrors. 18+ Minors DNI. Smut, oral receiving (AFAB).
Word Count: 2.0k
A/N: Hello there dearest readers. I must confess, I got a wee bit carried away with writing this chapter and it somehow turned into a 3k+ unwieldy monster so I've split it into two parts. I've also never published smut before so I'm a little nervy. Hope you enjoy. All my love, Saskia ❤️  
Sandman Masterlist
-----------------  
The next few hours sees Morpheus re-write your understanding of the word pleasure.
The story begins from the moment he takes your outstretched hand and allows you to lead him up the stairs.
There are still rays of sun trickling in however, you shut them out with your curtains and opt for the light of your lamp. Under no circumstances are you going to risk your neighbours seeing through your bedroom window.
As you flick the light switch, the reality of the situation announces itself with a bellowing fanfare.
You and Morpheus have just been reunited after months apart and are acting on desires that have been developing for longer still. You had suppressed the physical attraction, determined to be friends. And now you’re in your room on the precipice of crossing the friendship boundary entirely. All it had taken was a confession and a kiss.
You wanted him badly.
So much for resolve.
You turn to look at him. He stands with a perfect posture, his arms relaxed at his sides, messy hair all but begging to be touched. He is grace and beauty. Ethereal.
You toy with your sleeve in a display of unease. 
Morpheus speaks your name as he looks to your jittery action.
“Nerves,” you explain meekly.
“I understand. I feel the same.”
He takes both your hands in his own. “I will not do anything without your consent. Every time. You are safe with me.”
“I know,” Your heart aches from his anxious admission and caring declaration. “You are safe with me too.”
He smiles.
The reaction, with his kiss-swollen lips and ocean eyes pouring with adulation has you melting. You care so deeply for him and your need to demonstrate it is irresistible.
You stand on tip toe to press a kiss to his cheek.
When you are settled back on to the soles of your feet, Morpheus asks a question that causes your cheeks to fill with red.
“Where would you like me to touch you?”
You opt for an answer that you actually feel able to voice. “I – I like having my neck and shoulders kissed.”
He bends his head to speak softly next to your ear. "Then we shall start there."
His lips find your pulse point. A sigh falls from your mouth and you tilt your head back involuntarily. Morpheus kisses you more before replicating the wonderful attention on the other side.
He moves the collar of your jumper to kiss the hollow of your throat. You are then grabbing the bottom of the article to remove it. The black fabric of your camisole contrasts against the white of your bra. You go to pull the straps down.
“Allow me,” Morpheus offers.
You pause. "Okay."
He hooks his cool fingers under both sets and eases them downwards to leave the skin of your shoulders completely uninterrupted.
His knuckles graze across your collarbones and you shudder. He kisses your neck again and then your newly exposed skin. You are weak with delight, breathing deeply.
He pulls back to check in with you. His blue-green eyes dance with vivacity and you know yours are doing the same.
Taking advantage of the lull, you guide his face down so you can press your lips to his again. The resulting kiss is fire, one that stokes the blaze in between your legs to the point of desperation. You moan for the first time as your tongues meet.
His taste is incredible. Delicate and natural and clean. Like botanicals mixed with spring water.
When you pull away, you are feeling dizzy and delirious; securing your hands firmly on Morpheus’ slight waist for stability.
“Y/N,” he utters with a deep timbre as he regards your blissed out expression.
In your lustful state, the sound of his voice alone is enough for you; shivers ripple from the crown of your head down to your feet. Morpheus notices this.
“You like the way I speak, don’t you?”
“Maybe,” you are coy. “Yes.”
He nods. "Good. I will ensure that I keep speaking to you.”
"Oh, and what are you going to say to me next?"
He smirks. "I believe that you are wearing too many clothes."
You hum flirtatiously, your confidence spiking. With assured fingers, you begin to unbutton your jeans. You strip down to your underwear and feel a torrent of goose bumps raise.
Morpheus’ gaze roams up and down your almost naked frame. A blush much more significant than the one he created earlier tints the upper quarter of your body. You close your eyes to steady the yearning coursing through you.
Even with your sense of sight temporarily paused, you can tell exactly where he is in proximity to you. His presence is ubiquitous. It’s in the air that sparks and vibrates around you. Skims across your skin. Flows in your blood. You are linked to each other now.
“Beautiful,” he whispers.
He comes closer and kisses you feverishly. You thread your fingers into his silken hair and he sighs.
You like that he is vocalising his enjoyment. For someone so quiet and subdued, you knew it meant true pleasure.
"I would like to see more of you," he says.
You unclasp your bra and let it drop to the floor but subconsciously cover your chest with your forearms.
"Do you not wish for me to touch you there?" He queries.
It takes you a second to understand. "Oh. They're just very sensitive. Everyone who has touched them in the past, they were too rough and it hurt."
He cradles your face with a large hand.
"Y/N, I am Endless. My experience goes way beyond that of the humans you have lain with."
You consider his statement; anyone else would have sounded egotistical or invoked a sense of inferiority yet it is reassuring coming from Morpheus. He is centuries old. It isn’t unexpected that he would have skill.
"Would you stop if I needed you to?"
"You are in control. All you have to do is say no and I will stop."
"You promise?"
"You have my word. My entire focus is with you."
An interlude of contemplation passes. You lower your arms.
He comes to stand behind you and covers your neck with slow and sensual kisses. Your nervous anticipation stills for a moment.
"I'm going to touch you with my hands now."
You nod.
His hands run up and down your sides, ghosting the skin beside your breasts. He then makes to cup them. You jump a little and he withdraws.
"Do you need me to stop?"
"Keep going," you say with determination.
He puts his arms back around you. The movement is considered. He is respecting you completely and you adore him for it.
You lean forward the last few millimetres and press yourself into his cool palms.
It feels surprisingly pleasant. You exhale. He massages you. You tremble with pleasure.
"Would you like more?"
"Yes."
With a feather-like touch, he brushes the pad of his thumb over your nipple. You gasp.
"More, please," you request. “Kiss me.”
Morpheus sits on the edge of your bed and positions you to stand between his legs. He bends forward, maintaining eye contact to ensure that you are and remain okay. Your breathing is ragged even before he makes contact.
His lips part and he is smothering you with his soft, wet mouth. And then he lightly sucks. Your head falls backwards. You call his name loudly. He brings his fingers up to stroke your other nipple.
You feel your arousal pooling.
Never before had someone been able to make you feel so good from this kind of touching.
The experience lasts a maximum of thirty seconds; Morpheus clearly taking on board your sensitivity and not wanting to over stimulate you.
After, he sits you on his lap and caresses your face as you decompress.
“You are okay?” He asks caringly.
“Yes, thank you for being so patient with me.”
“You are most welcome,” he replies.
You tip your head to the side, suddenly deep in thought.
“What are you thinking?” He asks.
“I am thinking that you are rather overdressed compared to me.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“I do believe you’re right,” he murmurs while looking at your chest.
You dismount him and perch on the mattress. You watch him walk to your chair. He gracefully slips off his overcoat and drapes it over the green velvet upholstery, leaving him in a black long-sleeved shirt and jeans. He removes them with precision, along with his boots.
The second he sheds the final layer sees you stunned into silence.
Morpheus is a dichotomy of slender and toned. Subtle sinew cords its way across his torso and down his limbs in a way that suggests a whisper of strength rather than a shout. His skin is hairless and unmarked, and almost glows in the low light of your lamp. He is well-endowed too, you note quickly and bashfully.
His body is so absolutely otherworldly and like his face, stunning to behold.
You look to said face now; it is impassive yet his eyes are glassy with vulnerability.
You are on your feet, approaching him cautiously, all too aware that this is the first time he has ever let you see past his physical armour and worried that maybe you were causing him discomfort from your stares.
“You’re perfect.”
Morpheus looks down and closes his eyes.
“Can I hold you?” Your voice wobbles slightly. Seeing him like this affects you greatly.
He nods, sinking into your offered embrace. Skin on skin, you feel his energy thrumming just under the surface, reiterating his unearthly identity. You cradle him, stroking the back of his head for many minutes until you feel him adjust to his exposedness.
He straightens, conviction returning. You pull back, pressing your palms against the porcelain skin of his chest.
“I want to kiss you between your legs,” he intones unexpectedly.
“Okay.”
He crouches a little, grasps under your thighs and lifts you clean off the ground. He lays you down on the bed with your legs hanging over the edge. He traces the waistband of your underwear. He opens his mouth to ask for consent but you give permission by elevating your hips. He eases the garment down with his cool fingers.
"You are exquisite," he breathes, looking down at your body.
His voice has you pulsing in your core.
Morpheus kneels. He nudges your knees open.
"Please," you plead, squirming with need.
He parts your labia and dips his head. You groan as he makes contact. It's initially tentative but soon he is alternating between sinful suckling and soothing laps of his tongue.
He then teases your opening, nose bumping into your most sensitive spot as he does so.
His eyes are alert, taking note of every gasp, every movement you make. Learning your body. Cataloguing your reactions for the present and future intimacy.
You watch him with a wide, non-believing gaze. You cannot fathom the pleasure coursing through you. You feel yourself gush from it.
From your time spent together in the Dreaming, watching him selflessly take care of his realm, his citizens and his dreamers, you had known that Morpheus had a giving nature but you had never contemplated the extent of it beyond his purpose. The way he is attending to your needs, however, proves he is without doubt, a giver in the bedroom too.
And he was giving everything to you.
All thoughts of his charity are promptly banished from your brain as Morpheus pushes his tongue inside you and puts a thumb down to rub on your clit.
Your hips buck and he has to steady you with his hands. The contrast between languid swirls and targeted pressure scrambles your brain.
You come within the next minute, ecstasy igniting every nerve until you are nothing but a trembling, moaning mess of a being.
He strokes your quivering calves and thighs as you work to find coherent thoughts again.
You sit up once you are strong enough. “Your turn.”
He shakes his head.
“But-”
“There will be other times for that, I can assure you, but right now I need to be inside you.”
----------------
"I'm open wide. I want to take you home. We'll waste some time. You're the only one for me."
Taglist: @pinkcyclewitch​ ​@layla2-49​ ​ @shoidy-cat @silverhart93​ ​@boofy1998​ ​ @dotieeee​ ​@ponyboys-sunsets ​ @fangirlmary​ @littledollll​ ​@fatimakinney @jamiethenerdymonster​ ​@rosaren2498 ​ @mr-sandman-bring-me-a-dream​ ​ @madiebear​ ​@sandman-33 ​@sallysal9 ​ ​ @asiludida164 ​@elf-punk ​ ​ @grungeisntmything​ ​ ​@sapphireonline  @seninjakitey​ ​
111 notes · View notes
memphisnovels · 4 months
Text
Evermore
Chapter 24. Trouble
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Previous chapter
Masterlist
Hi friends! Me again, I took a little break over the holidays so apologies for the lack of chapters. This isn't my favorite one I've written but I hope you enjoy <3
pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OFC
warnings: Pietro being cheeky, some angst (par for the course), depictions of and allusions to PTSD, Tony time <3
“Balance, poise, precision. These are the qualities of a good dancer just as they are for a widow.” The leotard was so tight it felt as though it was going to crush my ribcage, but I kept spinning, never lowering from pointe. “But in the perfect dancer this is not enough. In the perfect dancer there is innate skill, that which cannot be learned but which lives within in us when we are born.”
In but a second the hard wood beneath my feet was gone and I was tumbling to the ground. When I looked up the barre was gone, so was Saskia. Now there were men with suits all around, the cold marble floors dug into my knees and then I saw a familiar face. It was the boy who’d appeared to me so often over these last few months, but he wasn’t talking to me now, instead he was in a heated discussion with someone I couldn’t see. I watched carefully as the young boy’s face contorted with outrage. He ran a hand through his hair, spitting out words that appeared venomous though I couldn’t hear them. I moved slowly to my feet, looking around to see a building I didn’t recognize, it was sleek and filled with people in bespoke suits. When I turned around again that boy was before me, his lips moving, though I could not hear what he was saying. He stepped closer, repeating his words over and over, it was the same words I realized, almost as if addressing me, attempting to get my attention, though I didn’t recognize what he was saying. He reached out toward me and the second his hand landed on my shoulder a deafening ringing sounded in my ears. I covered them with my palms to block out the maddening sound, my eyes shutting tightly.
When they reopened, I was no longer in the strange building, nor with Saskia in the ballet studio. The walls were sterile white, and I was strapped down to a cold metal chair. The ringing lessened, slowly fading into nothingness, though the sensation remained in my ears. A new sound began then, swelling gently into the area – classical music, I realized. Something was placed over my eyes by gloved hands. “Tell me who you are.” I heard a voice speak, German accent abundant in each syllable. I could feel my mouth moving but all I could hear was the music as it grew louder. Suddenly the bespectacled man entered my line of sight, adjusting large black glasses before beginning to fiddle with something on my head. I blinked and suddenly all I could see was a stage with a solitary ballerina in the center.
I sat upright abruptly in bed when I awoke. Rubbing the heels of my palms into my eyes in an attempt to rid myself of the strange dreams. The cold air that enveloped me as soon as I stood had me clinging to the dark blue sweater I wore. It smelt like Pietro and as odd as it seemed to me, I found it comforting.
He’d been gone for 4 days now, only able to check in on the first day before he and Sam went off the grid, the only point of communication now was comms which were being monitored in shifts by the team. Most days, I barely left the comms room. It confused me still, the way I was so undeniably concerned for Pietro’s welfare, but at the same time it was nice to have something else to focus on other than the visions that were plaguing me. They’d been getting worse since the Christmas tree farm, and it was becoming rather irritating. Sometimes it was in my dreams, others it was at random moments during my day, occasionally prompted but often they would just happen. It made no sense to me what was bringing them on and how I could stop them.
Pietro being gone was easy to focus on. It was strange sitting at meals without him, quiet, uncomfortably so. “You know he’s going to be fine.” Natasha spoke the words she had already said a million times by now. I nodded, not meeting her eyes. Instead, I focused on the newspaper that was before me, busying myself with reading the articles so she’d stop pestering me. “It’s normal to worry about him, it shows you care.”
“I’m fine.”
“You are so annoying.”
The corners of my mouth quirked up and I offered her a short glance before looking back down at the paper and flipping it over. “I’d just rather he didn’t die.”
“How sweet of you.”
I snickered at her response, yet all amusement left my body as I read the headline of the newspaper. Printed in large black letters above a black and white image of the ruins of a city.
‘Who’s to blame for Sokovia?’
Without a second thought I tore it to shreds, ignoring Natasha’s bewildered stare as I swept the pieces into the garbage. “He will be fine; the mission will be a success and he won’t die.” I spoke in absolutes, hands fisted tightly at my sides as I left the room. I repeated it like a mantra to myself for the rest of the day, even as I lay in bed waiting for sleep to come; and when it did the woman returned. Bracelets jingling against each other, hand smoothing over my hair, soft humming filling my ears. It wouldn’t stop, like it was haunting me.
In the early hours of the next morning, I meandered down to the labs with a sneaking suspicion that Tony would be tinkering. Just as I’d suspected, he was standing by a half-built suit, moving wires around under the armor. I sipped the coffee in my hands, watching him work quietly.
“Jesus Christ!” He exclaimed when he turned, almost jumping out of his skin. “You know it’s bone-chilling how easily you sneak up on people.” I merely smiled to myself at his dramatic tone, looking over his latest project. It was midnight blue and silver, not as bulky as the iron man suit, more of a skin with a hard chest plate. “It’s only a beta, I’m working on the resistance to speed and velocity, but he’ll need to try it on for me to be sure.”
I ran my hand over the hard shoulder shell, circling the hanging suit. “He’ll be so happy.”
“Yeah well… Figured it was time for him to trade in the rookie suit.”
A small laugh fell from my lips. “This is definitely an upgrade.”
“Speaking of which, you could probably use one too.”
I shook my head. “My suit gets the job done; I don’t need all this fancy shmancy tech stuff.” He wiped his hands on a rag, meeting my eyes as I continued. “I have the skill that your padding makes up for.”
Tony rolled his eyes at my taunt. “Oh well then, I guess you wouldn’t be interested in the fancy shmancy new suit that I already built you.” He pressed a panel on the wall, and it slid out, revealing a glass case. My lips parted as I took a step closer.
The suit was jet black, there were bits and bobs attached that I assumed were all sorts of equipment Tony had thought up, but it wasn’t bulky. It looked like a second skin, just the way I liked it, however, there were hard shells across it, armor that didn’t stick out. It covered the abdomen, shoulders, and chest. A closer glance revealed lines that ran along the suit in some kind of pattern, almost like veins through the center. I traced over them. “What are they?”
“Here.” Tony did something to the sleeve of the suit and suddenly the veins lit up, crimson red. He revealed a button that would attach to my palm if the suit was on. “It works like the widow’s bite shockers, but it’s built in, so you’ll still have the wrist attachment to stun at long range but this way you can become the shock piece. When you hit the button, you can use it. It’s all apart of the suit, so now, you can control the red.”
My mouth dried up as I stared at him. I didn’t know what to say, all I could do was look between him and the perfect suit, startled by his attention to detail. “Tony…” I looked back at the suit.
“Plus, I added in extra blade-resistant shelling, figured you could do with getting stabbed a little less.” His tone was light now, nonchalant. He was trying to play it off, act like it wasn’t a big deal.
“Thank you… It’s perfect.” He didn’t meet my eyes, fiddling with a few spare parts that were scattered across the table. “Where did you learn to do all of this?” I hoped the question would dissolve the strangeness between us.
He shrugged, glancing at the suit he was building for Pietro. “My dad was a scientist, and his work was his life. I’m not sure if the interest was innate or just a thing I started because it gave us something in common.” I nodded in response, running my fingers over the fabric of my new suit. Silence sat between us for a long few moments, not inherently uncomfortable, however, I could feel that Tony had something he wanted to ask, words on the tip of his tongue.
“Go ahead.”
“Do you remember anything about your parents?”
I shook my head. “I’m not sure I ever knew them. Judging by the lack of memories, I’d say its likely.” As I spoke, I chose to ignore the inescapable images that plagued me. That and the nagging feeling at the back of my mind.
“Do you miss them?” I blinked at him. “That’s probably a stupid question, right?”
“You mean to say do I wish I knew them; you just don’t want to ask because it sounds rude.” Tony didn’t respond verbally to that, a sheepish look on his face. “It’s fine, you don’t have to beat around the bush. To me, this is normal, I don’t remember ever knowing any different.” I took a beat then. Looking down at my hands as I wrung out my fingers. “I think… there was a time when I wondered what it felt like. I suppose I wished just to know what it was like to have parents, fully.”
He nodded but did not immediately speak. “That makes sense.” A beat. “Thanks.”
I snorted. “For what?”
“I have no idea it just felt like the right thing to say.”
“You’re very strange when emotions come out.”
He grumbled and went back to his work. I watched him, actually a little fascinated by what he was doing. My chin landed in my palm as I settled in. He held a pointed metal wand in one hand and a wire in the other. His eyes flickered up to me for a moment. “Do you want to try?” I was shocked by his offer, glancing between him and the parts. Eventually, I nodded gently and rounded the bench. He handed the metal wand to me. “I’m just soldering that wire to the main board; you just hold the tip of the iron to the wire and receiver, and it will melt them together.” I followed his instructions carefully, watching the silver melt down and join. “Well, don’t do it that well, I still need to have a use around here.” I rolled my eyes, lifting the wand from the metal board. As I continued, Tony began explaining to me how connecting the wire helped the suit function.
A piece of hair fell into my eyes causing me to blink as I touched the tip of the iron to the main board again. For just a split second I was gone.
Smaller hands held the very same tool, but I was in a different room.
When I blinked again, I was back, Tony’s voice filling my ears. I swallowed heavily, gripping the iron tightly and touching it to the wire again.
Stars shining bright above you.
Night breezes
Night
The sycamore tree.
Dream a little… night breezes seem to whisper, “I love you.”
“Nadia, be careful!” The words were like a shock to my system and when I was present once more Tony was watching me with a wide-eyed gaze. I pulled my arm back to avoid my bare finger making contact with the soldering iron. “Do you know how hot that thing is, kid? You could have given yourself a third-degree burn.” My head was frazzled, and I felt dazed looking from the iron to the man before me. “What happened, you disappeared on me for a second.”
I shook my head, as if the movement would clear it. “Sorry. I’m just tired, I haven’t been sleeping well.” It was half-true I supposed. Tony didn’t look convinced, but I merely turned from him and swiftly approached the exit of the lab.
It seemed, even during my waking hours, I couldn’t escape it.
“It’s getting worse than before.” I muttered into the phone.
Anna hummed. “Perhaps it’s the stress?” She was the only one I’d ever really confided in about my strange dreams, and even then, I couldn’t bring myself to unload every detail of them. “You’ve been so worried about Pietro, maybe that’s bringing it out.”
“But what even is ‘it’?” I spoke, frustration evident in my tone. “I don’t even know what I’m seeing.”
“Well, maybe it’s time to talk to someone about it.”
I sighed. “I am talking to someone. You.”
“Nadia.” Her tone was firm, scolding almost. “You know what I mean, a professional.”
She’d barely gotten the words out before I was protesting. “You know how I feel about shrinks; I’m not going to talk to some stranger with a notebook about my feelings.”
Her laugh sounded down the line, though I could hear the tightness, she was frustrated. “I’m aware, dear. You’ve made your feelings on the matter very clear. I don’t necessarily mean a therapist but someone who understands the human brain.”
I knew she was right, as she often was. Yet, I made no immediate endeavors to seek out a professional, not quite ready to face that. Whether I was lacking confidence in anyone’s ability to understand the inner workings of my mind, unwilling to trust another person with them or simply not ready to face the truth behind my visions, I was unsure.
So, I simply chose to focus on something else.
“Any signs of life?” Agent Hill spoke as we watched the footage from Sam’s body cam.
“None. Yet.” He responded. Suddenly Pietro appeared, moving to eye-level with the camera and tapping it obnoxiously. “Dude, you don’t need to do that, it’s on.” Sam spoke exasperatedly, slapping the other man’s hands away. I bit back a laugh as Pietro smiled sheepishly at him.
“I knew that.” He waved at the camera before turning back to the path ahead of them. The two of them were in a dimly lit tunnel, that was supposed to lead them underneath the property where the target was being held, the target being some man of importance and a few dozen files. It was a S.H.I.E.L.D. mission, hence the vague details. “This is very boring so far; search and rescue makes it sound so cool.”
“What don’t you find wading through half flooded sewers fun?” I taunted over the comms. I watched Pietro freeze slightly from Sam’s body cam. He glanced back over his shoulder, lips upturned.
“Well, hello, Nadia.” Just the sound of his voice had goosebumps rising over my flesh. “And I can think of several things that are far more fun than this. Funnily enough a good amount of them involve you.”
I scoffed at him rolling my eyes and working very hard to ignore the flush that rose over my chest, spattering across my neck and making my body warm considerably.
“Jesus, we get it, you’re into her. Spare us.”
Pietro’s snickering could be heard clearly over the comm. “Just keep moving, idiots.”
“Wait hold on.” Sam spoke up again, putting his arm out to stop Pietro from continuing. My skin prickled. “Do you hear that?” I held my breath as they both fell deathly silent, listening. In the eerie quiet, I heard it; ticking.
Sound erupted through the comms, so loud I had to yank the small device from my ear. Yellow and red flickered across the screen before it fizzled and became black. When I put the comm back in my ear there was muffled yelling covered with crackling static.
“Sam, come in.” Maria spoke, clicking the connecting buttons and repeating herself again and again. “Pietro, Sam, can you hear us?” Eventually the static dissipated and so did the voices, the screens now showing a bright red alert.
‘Connection lost’
I shook my head, tapping the comm to reconnect but each time it was the same response, no connection. Shooting up from my seat, I began to pace the room. “What the fuck?”
“Searching for their heat signatures now.” Maria said, typing rapidly.
Moving down to the front of the room, I stared at the large screen before me that was now completely black. Maria was muttering behind me, but I didn’t spare her a glance, focused wholly on the screen.
When silence continued to fill the room, I turned back to Agent Hill. “Well?” 
It was evident that Maria was attempting to keep her expression neutral, though for me, her concern was plain. “Did you find a heat signature? Agent Hill?” She remained silent, narrowing her eyes and beginning to type quicker. “Maria.” When she met my gaze, I had my answer. “Fuck this.” I spoke, turning to approach the door.
I barely made it a few steps before Tony was in front of me with his hands out, stopping me. “Get out of my way.”
“Not a chance. Not when you’re about to go and do something stupid.” 
I glared at him. “What do you think I should just let them die in that tunnel?”
“I understand that you want to protect him, kid.” 
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t fucking patronize me, Stark.”
The expression on his face remained steadfast, never faltering, despite my harsh words “I’m not. If the comms have gone offline it’s likely something is interfering with the other tech too, that’s why there’s no heat signatures. I’m telling you to take beat.”
I clenched my hands into fists at my sides. He was watching me carefully, awaiting my next move. Another glance at the blank screen that once had Pietro’s smile on it had me sidestepping Tony and making for the door once more. A hand wrapped around my wrist, not aggressive or threatening. Firm, but gentle. I whipped around and everything changed.
There was dark hair and brown eyes that softened as they gazed at me. A flash of lips moving with jumbled words.
But in your dreams whatever they be…
I yanked my arm from Tony’s grasp, blinking rapidly to clear my mind as the room began to spin. A loud static noise filled my ears, followed by a familiar voice.
“Hello? Can you hear me?” Pietro registered across the comms, a little distorted. My heart stuttered and I felt frozen to my spot.
“Pietro! Yes, we can hear you, do you hear us?” Maria responded.                           
The screen was still blank, but his voice continued to clear over the receiver. “Yes, but there’s a lot of static.”
“Was there an explosion before?”
Sam’s voice came through then. “Yeah, they blew up the end of the tunnel, but we’re both fine, Pietro got us out. We lost you guys for a bit there.”
Hill continued to debrief with Sam over the comms asking about their progress, but my heart was thumping in my chest still, and I was so aware of it that my body was beginning to panic, head spinning, hands clammy. It felt like the walls were closing in on me, suffocating me, crushing my bones. I shoved the door open, stepping out of the room quickly. The second I did red flashed across my eyes.
Sweet dreams ‘til sunbeams find you…
“The mission isn’t complete.”
I was small.
There was a gun in my hands.
I didn’t want to do it.
“Finish it, Nadia.”
I clutched my head, pushing along the wall and blinking rapidly to free myself from the memory.
“It’s your purpose.”
There was blood all over me. In a dark room with a mirror, General Obolensky held a gun to my head. He pulled the trigger, and I didn’t move, didn’t even blink. Dreykov smiled at me from the corner of the room.
“It’s not real.” I chanted, squeezing my eyes shut tightly.
I’m longing to linger ‘til dawn…
Fading… fading… linger on dear…
“You can’t tell dad he’ll be so mad at us for filling up before dinner.”  
A tug on one of my plaits.
The sun was warm, dappling the pavement through the trees that lined the street. There were steps in front of me.
The boy was there, jumbled, inaudible words and all. He tightened my backpack strap; he must be talking to me.
“…bug.”
Then it was the man in the glasses, poking and prodding me. “Tell me who you are.”
Finally, I reached the door I’d been searching for, pushing it open to feel fresh, cold air envelope me. Icy snowflakes nipped at my exposed flesh, but it was a welcome relief. I gasped into the open air, letting my head fall back as the images finally dissipated into nothingness on the air.
15 notes · View notes
runwithwolvcs · 2 years
Text
Right Where You Left Me
Monster Inside Of Me
Tumblr media
“You’ve seen one? Like a bad one?” I asked what felt like the millionth question since he had come back from patrol.  I had been antsy all day because of it. Paul had up and left mid movie after multiple howls sounded through my window, signalling trouble.
“They’re all bad, Saskia.” Paul tells me as I absentmindedly play with his fingers
I click my tongue at this. Theoretically, yes, they are all dangerous. But from what Bella has said of the Cullens, despite her odd obsession with them, they aren’t bad people. They weren’t always vampires. Paul doesn’t hide his disdain for my opinion on them, all he sees is black and white. Threat versus no threat. I can’t blame him. His entire life was shifted upside down because of them, though I would like to think he considers the imprint as a perk.
He sighs, “Yes, in some clearing in Forks, with Bella. But he's dead now, so you don’t have to worry about him, okay?”
I nod my head, “Jake said the Cullens were vegetarian.”
“Mhm.” He mumbles, and I don’t have to look at him to know he’s just rolled his eyes.
“No more vampire talk for today.” I reassured him, the subject was touchy for him whenever I asked about his patrol shifts. Though I was grateful he opened up enough to ease my mind. I comb my fingers through his growing hair, “Are you going to cut it again?”
“Eventually I will have to.” Paul admits, a teasing grin forming on his face as he mentions, “But somebody said they liked it longer.”
“I’d have to agree with whoever that was,” I note, whispering in his ear, “There's more to grab on to.”
I lightly tugged his hair so that we were eye level, before letting go completely and cupping his jaw. Pressing a small kiss to his soft lips that he’s quick to reciprocate,“You know, I was thinking the same thing about your ass in these tights.”
Paul picks me up from my spot beside him on the bench with ease and places me in his lap, practically straddling him as his hands lightly massage my ass. I have to hold back a moan as he does. The damn boy has left me touch starved the past two weeks.
“Oh,  bite me.” I quip.
“If you insist.” Paul dips his head, and nips at my neck gently before placing a soft kiss in the exact spot. I can't help but giggle at the action. Even in something as harmless as playfully biting me, he feels the need to counteract it by making sure I knew he didn’t mean to hurt me. As if he ever would.
“You’re growing soft on me, Lahote.” I tell him with a smile. I caress the nape of his neck softly as he hums in response.
“We’re in public, babe. Just you wait.” He winks at me. 
“Oh yeah? Do I at least get a sneak peak at what I’m getting?” 
My phone dings with a message from Emily. She has been privy to letting Kim and I know when muffins are ready before the boys can hoover them all. Though I tend to sneak one for Paul too, imprints honour, you could say.
Looking at the message, I grin, whispering as quietly as I can in his ear so as to not alert the other boys, “Muffins are ready.”
“I’d rather eat you.” he said lowly, “My dads visiting my aunt, we’d have the house to ourselves.” His hand travelled to my ass again and gave it a quick squeeze. On top of the little touches Paul finds comfort in, he has now made a habit of pushing the line of inappropriate PDA. Mostly at school and Emilys, where we both were scolded any time we got caught. 
“Tempting,” I say as I begin walking backwards towards the cottage, “One or two?”
Nearly knocking me over in the process.
“Watch it, Black,” Paul growled, moving quickly to steady me. His breathing was erratic and I could practically feel his heart racing as he pulled me into his chest. Looking down at me with dark, worried eyes as I looked up in confusion. What had set him off?
“Paul,” I warned, placing my palms on his chest firmly, “It’s okay, Paul. I’m okay.”
He only nodded. Taking a deep breath as he screwed his eyes shut trying to calm himself down. I lazily slid my hands down his chest until they met his hands, intertwining our fingers. I squeezed his hands gently, as a reminder that I’m still right there if he needed me.
Taking two steps back with his hands in mine, extending both of our arms just as he opened his eyes, still hard and full of an emotion that resembled rage. I smiled softly, “Come on Fido, let's go for a walk and then muffins.”
Paul let out a small laugh, walking towards me until our hands were at our sides again, “You think you’re funny, huh?”
“I’ll say anything if I know it’ll make you smile,” I tell him honestly. I let go of one of his hands before reaching up and poking the small dimple in his cheek, causing his smile to widen, “There we go.”
The imprint causing my heart to flutter at the sight of him. I stand on my tip toes, bringing my hand to the back of his neck, prepared to be scolded for the PDA we were about to show. I don’t care, not when he looks this kissable. 
Jake misses the football him and Embry were still playing with, it continues bouncing on the grass and hitting my ankles. I turn to him with a playful glare, returning to flat feet. I look up sheepishly to Paul, who is no longer smiling. A frown etched into his features, it seemed like a permanent feature these days.
“Sorry.” Jake teased, his hand resting on my lower back uncomfortably compared to when Paul slots his hand there. It doesn’t last longer than two seconds before Jacob picks up his ball again and tosses it back to Embry.
“Old habits die hard, isn’t that right, Jake?” Embry laughed.
Turning my head to look at him again, “What’s that supposed to--”
A sharp gasp leaving my lips interrupts my question as I fall to my knees, clutching my side. All I can feel is a burning sensation spreading across my abdomen. Letting out a shaky breath, I look down. My hands holding my side are drenched in blood as it soaks through my sweater. Though most of the fabric is shredded. I stare at it in confusion and shock. What the hell just happened?
“Shit!” Jake kneels next to me, yelling towards the small cottage, “Fuck! Call Sue!”
 I look at him as I start to hyperventilate, knowing the amount of blood I’ve lost is a lot already. I frantically look for Paul, his large frame nowhere to be seen, just a large grey wolf in his spot.
Reaching my hand up to wave him over, I know he can lessen the pain I feel, I just need to touch him. Jake pushed my bloodied hand down, back to my abdomen, “Keep pressure,” He said, worry seeping into his voice.
But I can’t take my eyes off of Paul. He  lets out a series of whimpers before he takes off, running faster than my brain could currently keep up with, “Don’t go,” I try to whisper, but it barely comes out as my vision blurs. The grey wolf breaking through the tree line and disappearing was the last thing I saw before it all went black.
…“Attacked by a wild dog.” A woman's voice says distantly, my ears were ringing as I struggled to stay awake and open my eyes…
….“What are you doing here?!” I hear my father saying angrily before losing consciousness again…
The familiar red hair billowing in the wind, talking to a man I’ve never seen before. I take a step forward, trying to get a better look at both of their faces when a hand on my shoulder stops me.
“Don’t, sweetie.” I look to see the sweet face of my mom, usually so sure of herself, now concerned, “Go find Paul. He’ll keep you safe.”
“What?” I asked, full of confusion.
“Paul and the pack will deal with them, but you need to go. Go find him,”
My eyes widened. She knows about the pack. 
About Paul
“How do you..?”
“Mothers know everything.” She tells me with an all knowing smile.
I frown, feeling as though our time is fleeting, “I miss you.”
“I know , Little Bird.” She tells me, caressing my cheek softly.
I look back towards the two pale faces just as their heads both snap towards my mom and I, it is then that I notice their glowing red eyes.
Gasping awake, I bring my hand up to block out the bright, white light. Groaning at the sharp pain in my side.
“Oh, good. You’re awake.” A soft voice coos. I know that voice. Blinking my eyes, hoping the room would stop spinning, Sue Clearwater comes into focus, “How are you feeling?”
“Paul? Is he here?” Looking around the room for the bronze man that I know is beating himself up right.
“Hasn’t left since they brought you in.” She tells me, writing something down on her clipboard before looking up at me with sorry eyes. “Your dad won’t let him see you. Seems like that gang rumour hasn’t just stuck to the highschool like the council thought it would.”
Tears form in my eyes as I try to swallow the lump in my throat.
“Oh, sweetie. Let me see if I can distract your father long enough for Paul to come check on you.” She tells me, setting down her charts before petting my hair. Just like my mom used to do. The damn breaks and all the unshed tears leave my eyes as she makes quick work of leaving to distract my father.
Paul comes in keeping his distance from the hospital bed. He looks sickly, almost like he hasn’t been sleeping or eating. A pang of worry soars through me. It wasn’t his fault. 
“Tell me you want nothing to do with me.” His voice breaks. He can’t even look at me. His eyes wander the room before landing on the window.
 It’s dark outside. But I have no way of telling how long I’ve been in the hospital.
I don’t hide my shock, “What?”
“Please,” he begged, finally looking at me, “Tell me I’m a monster and you hate me, I need to hear you say it because I know you, you wouldn't want to be around someone like me.”
“It was an accident, Paul, you’re not a monster.” I tried to sit up but the pain was too much.
He cringed and looked away from me again.
“I hurt you,” he croaked, “the one thing I vowed to never do.” 
Tears form in my eyes yet again, “If you don’t come to me, I am going to come to you.”
 I was not bluffing and swung a leg off the bed when he refused to move. Groaning as I placed one barefoot on the cool floor.
 He rushed to me, stopping me just as I got my other leg swing off the bed., “Don’t. You’ll rip your stitches.”
“Paul,” I lean into him, seeking his warmth, “I need you.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt by me, or the boys.. We’re not safe.” 
“You promised.” I brood, forcing him to look me in the eyes, “You promised me that I was stuck with you for life, that I was never going to lose you.”
The sorrow was unmistakable in his eyes, “I know, but the only thing I care about is making sure you're safe, and that's not with me.”
I resort to begging,  “Please don’t do this.”
The emotions were overwhelming. On top of the pain in my side, I could feel the dull ache I had felt when he refused to speak to me after I had found out about the imprint. I thought I had rid it for good.
“Saskia,” He cradled my cheek and I squeezed my eyes shut as my chest began to ache more intensely. I can't go through this again, “This is what's best.”
“I don’t care! I don’t need you deciding what's best for me, I can do that myself. We’ve talked about this.”
He opens his mouth to speak but I quickly interrupt, “If you do this to me again, I will never forgive you. Imprint or not, I promise you, I will never speak to you again and I keep my promises.” My anger and sadness mix together to create a dangerous storm of emotions.
He looks away again, his demeanour changing. He's scared. He knows I’m right and that I won’t settle for him tearing us apart over his own fears.
“I don’t want to do this to you,and if you never forgive me, I get it, I won’t forgive myself for what I’ve done to you.” His eyes now dark, and moody, like they had been the first time we made eye contact after the wolf genes had kicked in. I can see his inner turmoil. Like he was fighting with himself.  “But, I don’t want to lose you, I can’t. We just..need some distance right now.”
“Distance.” I repeat. This sounds more like a breakup than anything else. I take a deep breath, trying to collect my thoughts. Pauls clearly made up his mind,  and I am just too tired to fight him on it right now. 
He nods, holding my hand that was sitting in my lap and bringing it to his lips, “It won’t be forever. I just need to  get control of this. So, I don’t want you at Sams anymore, after patrols I can’t be around you, not while I’m still wound up and--”
“But what about--” I stop myself, pulling my hand from his and placing it back in my lap, “Nevermind.”
“What about what?” He asks, a flicker of hurt flashing through his eyes as I pull my hand away.
I shake my head.
“Sask?”
“I can’t sleep without you…” I murmur. He knows this. He has to, but he has to work out his own demons. I can at least understand that.
“I’ll figure something out..you’ll be okay.” He tells me, squeezing my hand gently.
I look up at him, one thing worrying me the most now that we’ve settled he won’t be ditching me for a third time, “I don’t even know what happened..Why’d you get so angry?”
“I wasn’t even angry.I was just..” He stopped himself. As he does whenever he talks about his emotions.
“Just what?”
“Jake,” he muttered, “He likes you, or he did, before finding out I imprinted on you. Jared told me that when Jacob found out he didn’t imprint on Bella, that it crossed his mind that maybe it was you. I doubt those feelings just magically disappeared and I don’t know something about him touching you made me snap.”                                                                                                               
I rolled my eyes, plainly stating, “You’re the only one that I want. ” 
Wait.
Why did I say that?
Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.
His eyes widened, “What?”
“As an imprint.” I lie, completely backtracking, “Obviously we're still just friends who sometimes are more than friends but not feelings wise, y’know?”
He grumbles something beneath his breath that I can’t quite make out. 
The sound of a throat clearing catches both of our attentions, “I thought I told you, you were not allowed to see my daughter.”
“Dad,” Quickly holding onto Paul's arm, as both our heads snap towards the door, “I asked for him.”
He scoffed, “I’m calling security.”
“No, Dad, please. Please.” I beg.
“Your mother would not approve of this, Saskia. Sneaking around at night, skipping school, all for this boy who is nothing but trouble. We raised you better than that. You, out.” My father grabs Paul's arm roughly leading him to the door as Sue watches with sorry eyes as she enters.
Tears cloud my vision as I move to stop him from kicking Paul out, only to have my legs give out and fall to the floor, “Saskia!”
Warm arms wrap around me protectively and I look up at a worried Paul, I can’t stop myself from crying, “Please don’t go. Not yet.”
“Delta, wait outside, please.” I hear my dad argue with my little sister, but I’m scared to look at her. Not knowing what they told her.
I just hope she's not afraid of the pack, not afraid of Paul. I can't put her through that if she is, and picking between the two people I care about most would destroy my already fragile mental state.
Looking at the door frame where Delta stood with Sue, her mousy voice sounds softer than usual as she says, “Paul will take care of her dad.”
“Delta, adults only.” He barked back at her. He never yells at Delta.
“Mom liked Paul, you’re the only one who doesn’t.” Delta says with an abundance of teenage angst in her voice before she stomps her feet out into the hall.
“She’s eighteen, Strand. She wants Paul to stay, he stays.” Sue comments as Paul helps me up as if I weigh nothing to him, setting me back in the uncomfortable hospital bed and pulling the itchy blanket up to my waist. He looks away as Sue checks my stitches. I'm not sure if it's because my fathers in the room or if he's afraid to see the damage but I squeeze his arm gently. Holding on to him for dear life, as if he would disappear when I let him go.
“All good, Saskia. No more sneaking out of bed, okay?” Sue says as she pulls the blanket further up my body.
“I’ll try.” I mumble, though it honestly depends on the boy beside me.
“Oh, and Delta was right, Marjorie had no problem with these two being..friends.” Sue informed my father, patting him on the shoulder before she sent a reassuring smile to myself and Paul, “Now, Del has school tomorrow, you should take her home.”
My dad is reeling as he says,  “I’ll be back in the morning.”
Sue is quick to lead him out of the room as Paul situated himself next to me. My grip on his arm is not lessening and I’m grateful he’s not leaving too. Though I know how much he is beating himself up about the accident. His new distance boundary can start tomorrow.
“My mom knew.” I mused quietly. So much for being sneaky climbing through his window every night. She had never brought it up to me, though I wish I had told her. I could see us on her porch swing, cocooned in blankets with hot chocolate gossiping like teenage girls about the very attractive boy next door. But I will never get that.
“My dad knows.”
I looked up at Paul, shocked at what he had confessed, “What?”
“I don’t know when he found out but, he asked me about you the other day.” He chuckled softly, running his fingers through my hair,  “He said he hadn’t heard your voice in a while but he was glad that you didn’t hold a grudge against me.  I also told him about the imprint. He wasn’t surprised.”
I smile tiredly, “My mom liked you. I always thought she would”
He smiles down, stroking my cheek, “Get some sleep.”
“Paul?” I ask, trying to hold his gaze but my eyelids became too heavy as I carefully snuggled into him. His warmth envelops me like a safety blanket.
“Hm?”
“I want to sleep in your stupid tshirts, okay? Nothing will ever change that.” I mumble through a yawn. 
He slots his hand into mine, giving it a small squeeze, “I’ll remember that.”
86 notes · View notes
macchinablue-archive · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media
starter call 2.0
@resplendentdare said: for an angsty starter (for Gavin)
"Seriously? You're friends with that guy?" The question comes as he notes that city guy that recently moved to Hawkins parts ways with Saskia. Normally he'd see them walking off together, but today, Connor seemed to need to head straight home. He hadn't caught the specifics. Didn't care. "Isn't he.. you know - kind of a dork?" His own question brings himself to snort a bit in mild amusement though the sound is almost inaudible.
"Or are you just desperate because none of these other jackasses give you the time of day?" Yeah, he said it. Made it pretty clear he didn't like much of anyone that attended their school and he wasn't afraid of putting that out there either. Most people knew that already. Gavin is known for being pretty vocal about his opinions; Clearly having a difficulty with keeping his mouth shut. Especially when his mouth got him into trouble a lot of the time. No trouble he hasn't managed to get out of though, of course.
Maybe the reason why he's speaking up here is due to the fact that yeah, he's kind of jealous. Connor suddenly coming into town and getting on the good side of the girl he likes? Yeah, that's no good. Though this doesn't exactly help him out either. Running his mouth. Not as much as he typically does, at least.
16 notes · View notes
panshipper · 29 days
Text
Octavia: as my new year’s resolution i'd like to be a little more kind to people.
Jaune: h-
Octavia: can you please shut up?
Saskia:….
Octavia: i said please.
3 notes · View notes
Text
New muses! ღ
Under the read more are five new muses. If any interest you, like this post and/or leave a comment, and I'll reach out about doing a starter!
Allie Jordan | early twenties | bisexual | lifestyle & make up influencer | submissive | halle bailey fc
Tumblr media
Allie is one of the sweetest girls you would possibly ever meet. Pure sunshine and kindness, Allie probably wouldn’t even hurt a fly. She’s bubbly, bright, generous, always around with a smile and willing to help anybody that needs it. Genuinely happy to be friends with anybody.
She’s not the brightest, what some might call a bit of a bimbo. She means well and she genuinely isn't "putting it on", she just isn't all there and is a bit naïve.
Isabella Bailey | early twenties | bisexual | pop star | switch | rachel zegler fc
Tumblr media
America's new pop sweetheart! Isabella is a delight. Kind, generous, loving soul, daydreamer. A little overwhelmed about all the fame and fans she has gathered, but she is loving life. She works hard at writing songs, perfecting the art of performance - a little tricky at times, and knows how to play several instruments.
Isabella is certainly an ambivert. She loves performing on stage for all her fans, but also adores curling up in bed with a good book and shutting out the world. She's still learning how to balance the public vs private side of fame, and it can be slightly overwhelming to find that balance. She's a little sensitive, not quite used to the harsh criticism of the public yet - and sometimes comments just seem mean for the sake of it.
Kennedy Watson | mid twenties | bisexual | magazine stylist & party girl | switch | tilly keeper fc
Tumblr media
Kennedy is sweet, but she's also trouble. She doesn't quite know when to say no sometimes, constantly going to parties, drinking, spending too much money going shopping, living a bit of the risky life. She's always been fond of a party moment, even if that's perhaps not the most responsible life. She can be slightly reckless with money, but she earns a pretty penny, why not spend a pretty penny? At least she looks good!
She likes to be liked - who doesn't? If you give her attention, she's going to give you the world. Her mom spends all her time doting over her older siblings & her dad seems to think that giving her presents makes up for always travelling for work - a trend that has continued since she was little. Sure, Kennedy likes things, but also quality time would be nice too.
Saskia Hart | early thirties | bisexual | children's tv entertainer/presenter | younger sister to Yasmin | switch | taylor swift fc
Tumblr media
Saskia is a kind girl who is always seems to be trying to prove herself. People don't often take her seriously, thinking she's "just" a children's tv entertainer. It's just simply not true. Saskia has a background in education, she's done music therapy courses and her latest venture is doing sign language courses. She is always trying to do better and be better, for herself and all the kids that watch her television show. Her family don't quite take her job seriously despite all the success she has, and she's constantly being compared to her older sister - and they don't really get along. She certainly feels like a bit of a black sheep amongst a family of business owners and CEOs - she's certainly the nicest one too.
Despite being adored by many families around the country, it's a little hard to make friends in the industry - and to find love, when you spend most of your day sitting in front of a camera pretending to talk to puppets and singing alphabet songs while wearing overalls. Saskia would never dream of doing anything else and she adores her job, it would be just to find someone nice to date too, right?
Yasmin Hart | mid thirties | bisexual | ceo & owner of Hart cosmetics | older sister to Saskia | switch | brooklyn decker fc
Tumblr media
Yasmin isn't really here to take your shit. She works hard and has made an incredible business. She does what she wants and so far that's worked for her. A booming global make up business and a bit of a socialite life, going to parties & events like it's nothing. Don't get her wrong, she's not about to reckless, but she does know how to unwind.
Yasmin is certainly her family's golden child. Despite her younger sister Saskia almost a house hold name in the children's entertainment industry, their parents are certainly more fond of Yasmin & her job, taking it and her more seriously. It's not Yasmin's fault that she's better, right? Obviously, they don't get along.
2 notes · View notes
darthvadersinhaler · 1 year
Text
Rosewood Ship Themes (?)
so I'm trying to do a thing here where I make like Rosewood ship theme songs??? I guess??? Like pick songs that I think fit each of the ships in the Rosewood Chronicles, and so far, I only have three decided, but I thought I'd share my ideas.
Lottie x Ellie - P.U.N.K Girl by Heavenly. This song is more from Lottie's point of view about Ellie, and how their relationship isn't perfect but they're still perfect for each other (oh my god I love them).
Saskia x Ani - Shut Up Kiss Me by Angel Olsen. This song is supposed to be set during Princess In Practice or the beginning of TLP. Like some of the lyrics remind me of their conversation during the prison scene in PIP.
Jamie x Raphael- Only A Dream by Zella Day. Yeah you can already tell where I'm going with this and it's lowkey depressing. But I thought of the song as being from Raphael's point of view after he kinda realizes that Jamie is never gonna like him and stuff.
please let me know if you have any other ideas because I'd really like to hear them!!!!
10 notes · View notes
flyaboveitall · 1 year
Text
closed starter for wen kexing @mvsicinthedvrkdvrk
"You're bolder than I am. I could never pull off a colour like that," Saskia said with a small shrug. "I stick to black, despite how some people find it boring. When someone points it out and asks whose funeral it is I'm going to, I just have a look around the room and say I haven’t decided yet. It's typically a good response, gets people to shut the fuck up."
Tumblr media
3 notes · View notes
saberwitch · 1 year
Text
The steading's dining hall is bustling; a rare moment when all the wayward cubs have come home.
Saskia nudges Stara, seemingly startling her out of a light doze, and points her attention toward the corner, where Meade and Herring are conversing with animated gestures and their heads close together.
"Wonder what they're planning," Saskia smirks.
Stara groans.
"Hopefully not more smoked mackerel ale," she says.
"Hey, I liked that," Saskia protests.
Stara glances toward her mother, framing her in the most familiar light: a fire, her face shadowed by the massive iron stewpot, steam wreathing her like some primordial goddess as she leans in to stir and taste. Beyond her, the open door, letting in a light frost-scented breeze, luring out with the smells of stew and bread. The ebb and flow of breeze and scent is interrupted as a figure fills the doorway.
The comfortable hum of kitchen sounds dies down. The dining hall might as well be empty for all that the newcomer pays attention to anything other than the woman at the fire.
Halennia straightens and turns, and her stern face softens.
"Rue," she whispers.
"Ennie," the newcomer says. Glances are passed between the women at the tables. The nickname is mouthed in wide-eyed wonder.
Stara, for her part, slumps in her chair, eyes rolled to the rafters.
The newcomer is wearing very little, even by Norn standards: a shawl of feathers, bone necklaces, strips of drakeskin held together by string that might only be considered breeches by virtue of them being on her legs. Her hair, shaved on one side, is the colour of moss. Feral yellow eyes, shining like a cat's, focus only on Halennia, on her soft smile. Abruptly she lifts a hand; dangling from it is a brace of coneys, cleaned and dressed.
Halennia's smile widens and she reaches out. The newcomer steps forward, as though into an embrace; she catches herself, and hands over the meat instead.
"Hey ya, stranger," Saskia calls, waving a mug at the newcomer. "Join us?"
The yellow eyes break with effort from Halennia to focus on the dark-skinned necromancer.
"No," she says, just that, and vanishes out the door.
"Ennie," Saskia murmurs, bringing the mug to her lips.
"Oh, shut up," Stara grumbles. But she looks over at her mother. The soft smile is still there.
Sighing, she snares her own mug and tips it up, wondering as she does what the weather's like in Queensdale these days.
3 notes · View notes