#“where's bill? this post should have bill in it!” other half of my followers

[pfffsfic]

robsicle friendship(?) doodles!

[mavrintarou]

[11:16 PM] Sakusa Kiyoomi

It's been a while since I last posted about Omi-Omi. Happy (belated) Valentine's Day!

Warning: mild angst but reconciled and happy smut (18+)

.

Kiyoomi set his gym bag in the usual spot of his apartment. Tonight, his home felt unusually cold and empty.

Switching the lights on, he is met with two floating balloons and a bag with red and pink hearts printed all over it.

He let out a chuckle and grabbed the bag, pulling out the tissue paper that was stuffed inside. He found all sorts of chocolate inside, his favorite chocolates.

Happy Valentine’s Day, jerk.

Y/n

Kiyoomi released a deep sigh. He and Y/n had gotten into an argument two nights ago, he couldn’t even remember what it was about. But it was 48 hours of silence from Y/n, 48 hours of emptiness.

The phone line rang repeatedly until it went to her voicemail.

He’s sent her three texts and they were left unread.

“C’mon…” he whispered, pacing around his place. “Pick up, please…”

A click came from the other line and he exhaled, “Y/n, thank goodness, where – “

“Hi, this isn’t Y/n but I’m her coworker!”

Kiyoomi frowned, and growled, “where is Y/n?”

“We are at a company dinner and she’s here… a little intoxicated…”

Kiyoomi could hear mumblings in the background, “… who is it…”

“Where are you guys?” he asked, heading to the shoe rack to put his shoes on.

He heard muffling but couldn’t hear clearly.

“… don’t tell him where I am…”

“… he’s mean and I don’t – I don’t wanna see him right now…”

His heart dropped.

“Hi, hello? Are you still there? Omi? Is this Omi with a white heart emoji next to your name? The Omi that is mean?”

“Yes,” Kiyoomi answered defeatedly, “this is Omi.”

“Look,” whoever this person on the other line whispered, “she keeps saying you are mean and she doesn’t want to see you but I secretly know she does, women to women, she wants to see you… we’re… we’re at the XXXX restaurant.” She paused before whispering loudly, “come get your girl!”

.

Kiyoomi’s strides were only half their usual length, and he inserted a two-second pause between each step. Y/n, with a gloomy mood, followed four feet behind him.

Arriving at the restaurant, he discovered her sitting sadly at the end of the table, all alone. Her colleagues were accompanied by their partners, but Y/n was left by herself. Kiyoomi felt a lump of guilt in his throat; he should have been there with her.

Their most recent argument stemmed from this issue. Y/n had requested him to cut short his training if possible for one night, but he declined, emphasizing the priority of his training.

“I’m simply asking if you could leave an hour earlier, or even thirty minutes early to make it to dinner, if it’s feasible. Can you not even manage that?” Her voice was tinged with angst.

“No, you understand how important my training is. I can’t simply leave early for something like this.”

Something like this…

Now, he felt the full weight of guilt engulfing him.

He halted and glanced back, noticing that Y/n had also come to a stop, gazing into the distance. Following her gaze, he spotted a small shop with claw and capsule machines.

He is reminded of his snarky comment about her liking such stupid things.

Walking up to her, he waited until she looked at him. “Let’s go,” he said jerking his head towards the shop.

Her cheeks were still rosy from the alcohol, her eyes weren’t as lively as they should be. “No,” she grumbles, looking away with a pout. “It’s just stupid stuff,” she attempted to walk around him when he caught her wrist and began tugging her towards the store. “What are you doing?”

He ignores her question and tugs her gently along until they get to the change machine. Stuffing a few bills inside to exchange for tokens. “What would you like?”

She looked at the handful of tokens and then his eyes, and with a weary tone she asked, “why are you doing this?”

“Because you like it and it makes you happy,” his tone is gentle and careful, “and I want to see you happy.” He puts a handful of tokens in her palm. “Go, show me what makes you happy.”

Still pouty, she closed her fingers around the token and walked around him.

Kiyoomi smiled to himself, knowing deep down she was excited.

.

“Are you satisfied with your wins?” He stared at the bag full of plushies and capsule toys.

Y/n nodded, restraining a bright smile on her lips. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Seizing the opportunity, Kiyoomi extended his left hand, asking, “can you hold my hand?” He let out a quite breath when she placed her palm in his. They walked side by side in silence.

“Where are we going?” she asked quietly.

“Let’s go grab some junk food at 7/11 and... my place?” He prayed she would come over but instead, she looked at him as if he had two heads. Chuckling, he knew why she was looking at him weirdly. He was completely against eating any junk food, let alone anything from a convenience store. “A little junk food won’t kill me.”

“It might make you sick though?”

“Shh, don’t jinx me like that.”

.

Sure enough, it did make him feel sick.

All he ate was a cup of instant ramen, and within less than an hour, he started experiencing stomach churning.

“I told you,” Y/n scolded, yet concern was written all over her face. She quickly ushered him to lie down on the couch.

If it meant for Y/n to nurse him and show him affection again, the stomach ache was worth it.

He groaned, “it hurts…”

Digging through her purse, she tried to look for her pill box. “Here, take this medication. It’ll help with the tummy ache.”

He accepted the small pill and popped it into his mouth, taking it down with water. He grabbed her hand, “rub my tummy like you did that one time.”

Y/n hesitated, staring at him suspiciously before reaching to push his shirt up to reveal his abdomen. She ignored the ripples of muscles and put pressure on a certain area of his body.

Kiyoomi groaned, feeling instant relief.

She reached for his hand and placed it with hers, “when you have a tummy ache, always press this pressure point.”

She was about to stand up when he stopped her. Panicking he asked, “wait, where are you going?”

“I’m just going to make you some rice soup.”

He still pouted, watching her walk away to his kitchen.

A few minutes later, she returned with a bowl of steaming contents. “Bland, just the way you like it,” she mentioned, taking a seat on the edge of the couch. “How is your stomach feeling?”

“It’ll feel a lot better if you do it…”

Y/n scoffed and slapped his hand away, “you’re such a baby.”

“Correction, I’m your baby…”

Y/n narrowed her eyes at him, “who are you and what have you done to Kiyoomi?”

Kiyoomi’s lips turned downwards. “Omi…” he corrected quietly. When she doesn’t respond he bites his lips nervously. “I’m sorry.”

Her brow raised, and she looked at him as if she didn’t comprehend what he was saying.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, louder this time. “I have been a jerk and insensitive to you… I have not been compromising and mean to you and I’m sorry,” he bowed his head. “I don’t want you to be mad at me anymore. I’ll do better, I promise. Please don’t leave me.” His voice cracked at his last part of his sentence.

“Leave you? Who said I was leaving you?”

“But you didn’t want to see me?”

Y/n frowned, confused. “When did I say that?”

“Earlier on the phone, I heard you telling your coworker that you didn’t want to see me…” very quietly he added, “that hurt my feelings.” He felt childish but he wanted to be honest.

“I didn’t want to see you is very different from I’m leaving you,” Y/n clarified. She sighed, running a hand through her hair before reaching for the bowl of soup. She blew to cool the spoonful of soup before bringing it to his mouth. “I said that I didn’t want to see you because I knew I would give in and forgive you.”

He swallows the soup before asking, “please forgive me?”

“I saw your face so I already forgave you.”

He couldn’t ignore the cheering in his mind. “Do you really mean it? You forgive me for being a jerk?”

“Yes, you jerk.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“But you called yourself that too?” Y/n countered, shoving a spoonful of soup into his mouth. “Eat and feel better.”

Kiyoomi smiles, “… kiss me, that would really make me feel better.”

The corner of her lips tugged upward, “you sly jerk…”

He sits up, bringing his face close to hers. “Please, a kiss?”

She pecks his lips.

He pouted, “that’s not a kiss.”

“Yes it is, my lips touched yours.”

He blinked and then frowned, “that was hardly a kiss…”

Y/n raised a brow, challenging him, “then what’s a kiss to you then?”

And he showed her.

He cupped her face, tilting it before pressing his lips against hers. As soon as she gasped, he slipped his tongue in, meeting hers in a tango.

“Omi…” Y/n breathed, pushing him away to catch a breath.

His lips continued to her jaw and down her neck. “Please Y/n…” he begged, tugging at her tucked-in dress shirt. He pulls away and looks at her with dark pupils, waiting for her consent.

She launched at him, knocking him onto his back once more. Her mouth moved hungrily against his as she tugged at his clothes.

“I’m not going anywhere…” he chuckled.

“You will be if you don’t take help take our clothes off…”

Their clothes lay carelessly on the ground seconds later.

Y/n raised herself and straddled his lap. She rocked her hips, gliding her pussy along the length of his cock.

Kiyoomi hissed loudly as his hands gripped her hip tightly, nails digging into her hip bone. “Don’t –“ he choked, “don’t tease me…” He didn’t miss the smirk on her lips.

Having enough of not being inside of her already, Kiyoomi flipped them and shifted her underneath him. His hand found one of hers and threaded their fingers together, clasping tightly. He searched her eyes and she answered by lifting her hips.

“Haa, you’re going to be the death of me,” he sank his cock into her sweet pussy.

He waited a few seconds, savoring the intimate bond. Kiyoomi peers down at her before pressing his forehead against hers and without breaking eye contact, he whispers, “I love you.”

He doesn’t express those three words as frequently as he ought to, but he can observe the way her eyes illuminate when he does. “I love you, Y/n…” he repeated, rocking his hips slowly but deeply. “I know I don’t say it often enough for you but you are my everything… and I never want to be without you again…”

Y/n released a soft whimper and cupped his face, connecting their lips. “I love you too, Omi…”

It was soft lovemaking.

Each rock of his hips was gentle with care, with love.

“Let’s cum together?”

Y/n nodded, tightening her arms around his shoulders and soon their bodies trembled in release.

Kiyoomi pulls Y/n up and they sit down, still connected very intimately. He reached for the bag of chocolate, took a piece, and unwrapped it before placing it into her mouth. Then, he helped himself to a piece as well.

“Thank you for the chocolate,” he murmurs.

Pressing a kiss to his cheek, she whispered, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Omi.”

. . .

E/n: Going back to Teo now...

>>> @queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

[itsnotbird]

Ghosting

Post!Hydra Dark! Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

‘I’ve been ghosting…I’ve been ghosting along, ghost in your house, ghost in your arms.’

Summary: Maybe his tendencies are odd, but maybe the two of you are just meant to be? He doesn’t want to be the ghost that looms around, but what choice does he have?

Warnings: Stalking, dark themes, 18+ content, not intended for minors! Reader gets harassed in the beginning, Bucky is…he’s a little crazy but he means well. Isn’t he so dreamy? Trust the process here.

A/n: I had this idea and I’m going to poorly execute it! Not cannon whatsoever, post Hydra/Winter soldier Bucky but…old habits die hard.

“You want to come back to my place?”

You scrunched your nose. “That’s um…that’s a kind offer, Connor, but I’m kinda tired.” You politely say as you leave the restaurant.

It’s a bold offer for him to make after a first date- a lousy first date. He made you pay half the bill, made subtle comments about your choice of outfit, talked about himself the entire time. Now, he has the audacity to ask for a lousy hook up.

He looks at you with a confused smile. “No? Oh…okay.”

“I don’t know if you were…expecting something but…I just don’t think we’re the best match.” You say honestly.

He scoffs like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Okay, wow, um…I was trying to be nice because you’re clearly desperate-”

“Desperate?” You choke out a dry laugh.

“-but hey, go ahead and be a tease, that’s fine.”

“What?” You squint, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, I’m a little confused.”

“Yeah, it probably doesn’t take much.” He says with a serious look.

“Wow, what a wasted night.” You say to yourself.

“Yeah tell me about it, you sat there going on and on about your parents and I’m not even going to get head? Hey, newsflash! Your parents are probably just disappointed they have a screw up of a daughter. Seriously, you’re so fucking boring.”

You huff in disbelief, not able to wrap your head around how mean his words are.

“I’m gonna go.” You say. “I hope you can find a decent personality.”

As you turn, walking back in the direction of your apartment, he shouts a few choice words in your direction. You only wrap your coat around you tighter.

Though you hate it, tears burn your eyes. Silently crying in the dark, you place a call to your best friend.

“Hey! How was the date?” She asks in a cheery tone.

Immediately you sniffle. “Pretty bad.”

Your soft sobs echo off of brick walls, all the way up to Bucky sitting on the roof of the building you pass. The sound is enticing, causing him to look over the edge at your figure.

Somehow, he knows that he should just stay where he is, it’s really something he doesn’t need to get involved with.

But…he finds himself hopping over to the next roof, following you. It’s like he’s enticed to do it. Part of him - the small part that’s still sane- recognizes how crazy and creepy he’s being.

The much larger part of him doesn’t give a fuck.

Rooftop to rooftop, he’s like your shadow, listening to your conversation, watching the surroundings around you to make sure you don’t get hurt. He aches for you, utterly displeased that you are upset. Which is a crazy idea because he knows nothing about you.

Well, not for long.

See, it’s like the universe is on his side. Because though he’s not trying to keep track of you, you’re constantly crossing his path. Over the next week, he quickly learns your schedule. He learns that you leave your apartment building at 8am to go to work at the overpriced coffee shop down the street, you usually get off at 3pm. Then your night plans alternate, one night you go to a college class, the other you go to a friend’s house where you don’t come back until very late.

You grocery shop at a Whole Foods, you don’t shop for yourself, you like music, you play the guitar. He watches you open your apartment window and sit on the sill, smoking a cigarette once in a while and that’s how he knows you’re stressed.

At first, he ran into you purely by chance.

But it became almost too easy to pin you down when you lived the same, boring life.

On the coming Saturday, you go on another date. He doesn’t know this until you and the man come into the bar he’s in.

You look gorgeous, like always. You seemed to have this classic elegance about you, and this guy…well, he’s wearing brown shoes and black trousers so there’s no hope.

He tries not to stare, but you laugh so beautifully and your smile is sparkling, then he’s angry because this fool is making you laugh and smile.

You have much hope for this guy, Noah is his name. He’s sweet, he’s funny, he…is so insanely boring.

But you push past it and claim that everyone is a little off on first dates. He pays for your drinks and offers to call you a cab home. What you don’t expect is for the way he grips you sharply in the alleyway of the bar, kissing you heatedly. You awkwardly laugh and try to tell him this wasn’t really your style, but he’s rather persistent.

You feel stupid. Did you give him the wrong signs? He was so good the entire night and this is how it has to end?

“Noah, wait. Wait, stop.” You say, trying push his hands off of you.

“You’re really gorgeous.” He huffs, pulling the strap of your dress down so he can suck on your shoulder.

“I- thank you but really, I don’t want you to do this.” You struggle again, only to be pushed back harder against the brick. Your head hits it and pain blooms in your skull.

“No, it’s okay.” He claims, holding your hands down.

You begin to panic, frozen in fear as you start begging him to let you go.

“Hey.” A voice suddenly says.

You look over at the man who has a very scary look in his eye.

“I think the lady wants you to stop.” He says.

Noah rolls his eyes. “Why don’t you mind your own business?”

Bucky looks at your quivering lip and determines that he can’t do that.

So he sighs, then calmly comes to grip Noah’s shoulder and rips him away from you. He stumbles back, aiming to throw a punch before Bucky stops his fist and punches him in the face, hard enough that he falls to the ground.

You gasp, fixing yourself and quickly wiping your face. The stranger turns to you, eyes searching you.

“Are you hurt?” Bucky asks.

“No. Thank you.”

He nods, then motions to the street. “I’ll get you a cab home.”

You aren’t completely sure what to do, it was all so strange. Looking back to Noah on the ground, you quickly get away from him, trusting this stranger more than anything now.

He does exactly what he says and hails you a cab, watches you get in and shuts the door behind you.

There are no other words spoken.

You drive away and that’s where it’s left.

Or so you think.

In all actuality, that little interaction has been fueling his growing obsession. He’s paying closer attention, in every shadow, you could find him there. But you never do.

From the fire escape, he sometimes- lots of times- he sits when he can’t sleep. He sits on the ledge, concealed in darkness, and silently observes you. Bucky determines that you were strategically placed in his life, you had to be.

The universe was never on his side, so why was he being rewarded now? If he didn’t understand it, it’s because his brain is still trying to connect wires back together. Oh but it does make sense, you’re this shining star, you’re the lark bird with a broken wing and who is he? He’s the man to help.

He recognizes the look in your eye, the gaze that searches for salvation in every person, he knows desperation because it’s been under his mask for years. He could be your savior.

He is.

No, no he won’t force anything. You’ll have to ask, admit that you strive for something other than the cards you have been dealt. But you couldn’t do that if you keep ignoring your ghost.

He’ll pull the sheet off of his head, that’s what he’ll do. He’ll strategically plan the way your paths will cross again, like any good soldier does, and it’s going to open that shut door. He won’t have to look for an open window anymore, physically or metaphorically.

Saturday night. You’re dressed up. You leave your flat in heels and a backless dress. You should really put on a coat, that shall around your shoulders won’t keep the chilly air away.

He watches from the adjacent roof top, he makes sure you get in your cab alright.

He knows you’re going to your best friend’s birthday night out at the city’s newest jazz club, a very elegant place, he’s heard you discussing it with her for weeks.

That’s where he’ll be.

Dressed the part in a suit he’s lifted from the dry cleaners, he’ll lurk around the bar, hide within the crowd, stay far away from the dance floor.

Nostalgia seems to make him feel a little sick, the music, the theme, everything seems to be reconnecting him to the boy he was before.

James Buchanan Barnes. That’s who he needs to be now. Charming and all smiles and smooth talking, he could do, can’t he?

Irritation bites at his nerves when opportunity doesn’t present itself for a while. You seem glued to your star-of-the-show best friend. He admires your loyalty, your blind adoration for a woman who tends to brush you off often for much more interesting people.

How dare she? If you were stitched to his side, he’d never make you feel pushed out, he’d give you his attention, he’d make sure you knew you were the most important thing in the room.

He’s bitter now.

He needs a drink. The idea of it soothes more than the alcohol does, given the fact he could drink three entire bottles before feeling something. That’s a painful disadvantage of the serum in his blood, he couldn’t even effortlessly get drunk to forget his troubles.

At the bar, he orders whiskey neat and pushes his hair back in a huff.

“Hi, could I get another glass of champagne?”

There it was, that voice that’s better than every song being played here.

You stand beside him, smiling at the bartender.

“Actually.” You change your mind. “A Martini, please. No- just a double Tito’s with three olives. Please.”

The barman chuckles at your request and begins to make it for you.

You’re here, all elegant in your green silk dress that compliments your eyes, smelling like your nice perfume, the one you spray on your wrists and behind your ear. Suddenly, Bucky is at a loss of words.

He’s waited around all night and you’re finally here.

You sigh in dissatisfaction, it’s a noise he never ever wants to hear from you ever again.

“Thank you.” You thank the barman again as he slides your drink to you.

Bucky watches you take a sip, he envies the martini glass for the way your lips wrap around the rim. Your eyes shut as you taste the alcohol, dark lashes flutter together and you look just like a doll.

“Rough night?” He questions.

You face him, an excuse on your lips but you pause when you recognize him.

“No, no my evening has been fine. I’m sorry, you look so familiar. Have we met?”

He thinks it’s cute the way you pretend you don’t remember him.

“Briefly, I believe. Outside of the-”

“Outside that bar. Right. You…helped me.” You state, obviously feeling a little embarrassed even though he isn’t sure why you would be.

“That guy was a dick, don’t worry about it.” He says, drawing your eyes back to him.

“Thank you…most people would’ve just kept walking.” You say, genuine tone, vulnerable face.

“Most people suck.”

You laugh, and it’s the best sound he’s known. He smiles, watching you tuck away a strand of hair that has fallen from your updo.

You introduce yourself now, giving him your name to hold, not like a secret.

“I’m James.” He says.

“James.”

His name has belonged on your lips for over a hundred years.

“I like that name.” You determine, sipping on your drink. “What brings you here tonight, James?”

He’s quick to think on his feet.

“A failed double date.”

You give him a questioning look.

“How was it failed? She wasn’t a damsel in distress?” You joke, and he smiles at your smile.

“No, she left with another man. Honestly, it’s fine, I wasn’t interested in her.” He lies, adoring the pout you gain on his behalf.

“That’s a shame, you seem like great company, James.”

He hasn’t been told that for as long as he can remember, well, he can’t remember much, actually. But he does know that he loves getting to know you face to face, not just learning from a distance. There would never be a distance again, he knows this, feels it in the way you accidentally touch his arm as you laugh in conversation.

You feel as if you’ve known him for ages, you haven’t but he sure knows you.

“Why look so drab if you’re celebrating your best friend’s birthday?” He asks, watching you toy with your empty glass before the bartender takes it away.

A sigh leaves your perfect lips. “I’m happy, of course I am…I just, well, sometimes I get looked over. It’s fine, it’s not my night, it’s hers…but somehow it happens very often when her and I go out. I suppose it’s just easy for people to forget I’m around, especially her when she has so many people’s attention.”

He shakes his head, you might as well have confessed to a crime. Those words shouldn’t have left your mouth.

“You’re not easy to forget.” Bucky tells you, his clear, blue, eyes heavy in yours. “In my opinion, you’re much more memorable and-and admirable than her.”

He hasn’t spoken this much in forever, he’s surprised he remembers words as big.

You blush at his compliment. “Really?”

“Really.” He coos. “Girls like her are a dime a dozen, but not you. I could tell from the moment I saw you, you have something far more interesting than her.”

You selfishly let his words flatter you for a moment.

“She’s my best friend since high school, she’s really been there for me so for that I am grateful but…well, she has a tendency to make me a sidekick. I don’t like being Robin.” You laugh.

Bucky pretends he knows who you’re talking about.

“You deserve to be the hero.” He chimes.

You giggle. “I am no Captain America.”

That has him at a loss for words.

You don’t notice though. You look over to the stage, the band plays a slow throwback, a smooth jazz song.

The alcohol bas mostly calmed your nerves, and the way your best friend has yet to notice your absence, has you making an offer you’d never make.

“Are you a fan of Frank Sinatra, James?” You ask.

“Never heard of him.” He jokes, definitely finding it far more amusing than you do.

“Do you dance?” You question now, boldly taking his hand.

You haven’t figured out the deal with the gloves he wears yet, but you don’t ask in fear you’ll offend him.

And though he said he’d stay far from the dance floor, he’s blindly guiding you to the space where the others sway, it’s like he’s enchanted by the low lighting on your skin, or the way you’re so willing to let him in. He’s not even sure he remembers how to dance, but he falls right into the rhythm like it’s always been with him.

Gentle, he’s oh so gentle with you, you have no clue how much he’s thinking about the touch he’s giving you.

It’s you who gets flirty, hand sliding over his shoulder to gently hold the back of his neck, you gently press into his rather broad frame.

You can see the way your best friend’s eyes finally find you, and she’s immediately curious.

You’re immediately frightened.

She’s going to want him, she’s always had the same taste as you.

You let out a shaky breath and look away.

“What’s wrong?” He immediately asks in a protective tone as he feels you go rigid in his hands. His defense is up, he looks around the room for a threat.

“Nothing, sorry. I’m sorry, I’m okay.” You let out a soft laugh, laying your head on his chest.

The action immediately distracts him.

Here you were, falling right into him like you were meant to, his perfect girl.

He tucks that loose hair behind your ear, he lets his fingers gently trace down your spine until he comes back to hold your waist.

“Your heart’s beating pretty fast.” He says close to you, not thinking about the possibility of you asking just how he could tell.

“I’m trying not to step on your shoes.” Is all you say with a fleeting giggle.

As the song closes, you’re in some sort of dream land. It’s not the alcohol, even if it was a strong drink, it’s all him.

That elated feeling continues as he pulls you away from the crowd, and it dissipates right when your best friend finds you.

“There you are!” She smiles at you. “I see you’ve made a friend.”

You should just go home.

“This is James.” You say, watching them greet each other.

“It’s my birthday, James.” She tells him in her tipsy tone.

He looks at her birthday sash and nods. “I can see that. Happy birthday.”

“Thank you. You can give me a gift later if you want.”

You should really just go home and put on your sweats and a movie.

But then you feel his hand on the small of your back.

“We’re actually going for a stroll.” He says, because what else is he to say? That your friend’s actions aren’t attractive? How she comes on far too strong in the worst way? Perhaps he’s only in this mindset because he can see the way your face fell when she posed a threat.

She’s no threat, sweet girl. No one is a threat to you, ever, not now that I’m here.

He says it with his eyes as you look up at him in question. The gentle nod he offers has you easing. A stroll sounds nice.

You find yourself agreeing? How is it so easy to agree and tell your friend good night? It’s as easy as your hand around his- large- bicep as the two of you walk the glimmering night streets of the city.

He makes you feel so…secure. Maybe this is how girls get kidnapped and turn up dead in alleyways, but you feel the need to trust him with your life.

You feel the need to grow obsessive over every word and touch he gives you.

Maybe that’s how you end up showing him your apartment. He acts like he’s never seen it before.

And he has not one intention on things going further- well, maybe just one. But he’s a perfect gentleman, drinking the coffee you make him, complimenting your music collection, asking about the instrument in the corner.

It’s all you who gets closer.

And as your lips touch, you can’t help but think this is insane.

You should pull away, but then he grips your waist and deepens the kiss and you completely lose your mind.

He’s a stranger in your home, on your lips.

But is he really?

“I’m sorry.” You immediately say when he pulls back and turns his head away. “I-I don’t do this, a lot of girls say that, but I really don’t do this.”

He knows you don’t, and the fact that you’re doing it with him has him trying to control himself.

“I’m sorry.”

You apologize too much. He’s going to have to fix that.

“No, no.” He says, looking back down at you. “Don’t. It’s me, not you.”

“I’ve heard that before.” You laugh awkwardly, anxiously.

His hand comes to your cheek. “Hey, no it really is me. You’re perfect, I…am not.”

Your brows droop together. “You seem pretty perfect to me…I’m pretty sure I like you. Is that crazy?”

How sweet, how innocent.

He struggles with his emotion like he always does, too confused to put things into words, and the confusion turns into irritation and soon he’s huffing and drawing both hands to your face, like it will help.

“Not crazy.” He says. “I like you too, I’m certain of it…but I am not perfect, do you understand?”

He’s a magician, or he’s drugged you. James speaks assertively and it’s like you’re in a daze, just nodding along.

He sees that spark in your eye, in that moment his suspicions are confirmed. He’s watched you strike out on dates because you try with men who don’t understand what you need. Only he knows, only he knows you want someone to comfort and lead you. That’s how he gets you to do as he asks, which all just consists of changing out of that damn gorgeous dress and relaxing on your sofa with him. But in the long run, he knows you’ll follow with your blind loyalty and never forsake him.

He doesn’t let you be nervous, thinking he’s expecting something from you. He sits and lets you decide how close you want to be next to him, and that’s because Bucky is confident you’ll be following right along in his plan without his assistance.

You sit about five inches away from him, knees curled to your chest in your flannel pants and you bunch your sweater sleeves around your hands. When it’s supposed to be a two way conversation, you hardly notice how he lets you do all the talking.

That’s because he isn’t sure how to go about explaining things to you yet, he has to wait for the moment he’s confident you’re all in on this.

“It’s weird, I feel so comfortable around you…like I already know your presence.”

You do, you just don’t know that.

Bucky hums, then is immensely pleased with the way you draw yourself closer.

“Sometimes people are just like that. Familiar.” He says, slightly stiff as you turn to lean into his shoulder.

“I’m glad you seem familiar, James.”

That’s a statement echoing in his haunted mind, bouncing off walls as he carries you to bed and tucks you in after you fall asleep against him, it’s with him in the following days when he shows up in your life again after you had the fear you were never going to see him. You woke up and he was gone, no note, no number to call and you cried and felt pathetic and yet, here he is now.

Bucky is waiting outside the coffee shop as you come out after your shift, he looms in such a way you almost don’t see him.

“James.” You say in surprise, heart beating a little faster at the abrupt introduction of him. “Hi, I-I didn’t- were you waiting for me? Meeting someone?”

Bucky smiles at your nervousness. “I was waiting for you.”

Interactions like this become common. Before you realize it, you’re getting to know someone who has you memorized perfectly. There’s no concern on how to reach him, because he always manages to find you, he’s always there when you need him. And weeks pass and Bucky wants to hear you say his name a thousand times over, his obsession grows and you know it.

The best part? You don’t mind it. Sure, it’s an adjustment, your whole life has been a constant fight for attention. So when he’s here, physically ignoring people when you’re near him, your first reaction is to think it won’t last.

He assures you through his actions that he is here to stay, because when he wants something, he takes it.

You could classify this as dating, wouldn’t you? Those nights he takes you away to places where it’s just the two of you, those are dates in your mind. To Bucky? There what life is meant to be like forever.

A month after the meeting in the bar, you’re sitting in your lounge chair, murmuring about how much you hate your job and the fact that you can’t seem to get a better one, it’s a conversation Bucky hears often. And somewhere from the moment you’re draped over his lap and his hand nudges your chin up when you get blue, you sigh.

“You never touch me.” You say, large eyes blinking at him.

Bucky grows confused. “That’s not true.” He states.

Your head rests against his collar bone, face almost nuzzles into his neck and you reach for his hand.

“I don’t know the feeling of your skin.”

It’s in this moment that he knows you’re ready for the truth, as much of it as you can handle.

When you started to fall for James, you knew he was different, had a different energy about him. Never in a million years did you expect him to start explaining a story so dark and horrid, and it’s only the version he alters for you, not having it in him to taint your perfect mind with the entire nightmare.

He talks more than you’ve ever heard him talk, for thirty two minutes you sit in his lap with wide eyes and a pale expression, trying to wrap your head around it. You have about a hundred and one questions and can’t fully form any, you wait until he finishes, then he looks at you with something so humble and vulnerable.

“…What?” You breathe. “What!?”

You’re off of his lap, pushing the sleeves of your shirt up and starting a pace while you try to process the information. He sits there, watching you, letting you get through the shock.

“James- you know that sounds crazy, right? Metal arm, wanted by the government, over a hundred years old- crazy.”

You continue to mutter and work through the sheer fear of ‘oh God what did you just get yourself into?’, then after about eight and a half minutes, you settle.

Just like he knew you would. Because that’s the kind of woman you are, able to think things through from an alternate perspective.

You stand before him, hair tucked behind your ears and you breathe.

“I want to see.” You state, sure of it.

“Why?” He questions.

“I might not believe you otherwise.”

You believe him, of course you do, this is something that could only happen to you. The more you think about it, this story explains things. Like the way he always hold you with his right hand, how he goes rigid at the mention of things that could be triggering for him and you had no clue.

Bucky processes it, then stands.

A glove comes off, a perfectly normal, large, right hand is under it.

Then, the other.

You blink, staring at the metal that has been revealed, shiny and silver.

He swallows hard, then pulls at the hem of the henley shirt he wears. It lands on the floor and you don’t move, just let your eyes explore the new discovery. Up his right arm, toned bicep, broad shouldered, expanding chest, down his stomach and back up and then…

His head turns, he looks away when you see it, the scarred skin of his left shoulder. It’s jarred, metal meets flesh and you can’t look away.

Maybe you should be repulsed, but you aren’t. You step forward, hand raised and he flinches slightly.

“Can I? I-I’ll be gentle.” You whisper.

If you were not made just for him, you would have left already, screamed perhaps, anything but let your fingertips graze his skin with no anger or malice behind it.

He continues to look away while you explore, and even though you’re filled with curiosity, a sour feeling stirs in your stomach at the thought someone did this to him.

“What is it?” You ask, your index running down the metal, watching it flex almost human like.

“Vibranium.” He says, tone bare.

“This is like…Stark technology stuff.” You gasp, watching his fingers flex.

He lets out a shaky breath at the Stark name, you make a mental note to not speak of it again.

Your hand skims the expanse of his chest, firm, tense. Had you truly not realized just how huge he is? Down his flesh arm, fingers follow valleys of muscle until they slip right into his. His hand is warm and entirely engulfing yours.

The other, it holds the back of his neck, lost in his hair, forcing him to look down at you, just in time for you to lean up and kiss him slowly.

You’re okay with it, all of it.

Perhaps you’re secretly just as crazy as he is?

With your hand in his, he has no choice but to grab your waist with the thing he viewed as a weapon. You do not hurt, he does not maim you like he has feared, you draw closer to his body and show him kindness and comfort.

There was no going back now, you couldn’t reject him now. Not when you’re shifting your head to allow him to deepen the kiss. The sky outside could be falling and you’d still be here, barefoot in your living room, tip toed to reach him. His hand leaves yours to cup your jaw, fingers flexed into skin like he could sink claws in.

Your hot. It’s a heat that blooms inside out and you find your hand twisting in hair and the other drawing his hips closer. Perhaps your actions shouldn’t come like this after he explained how tortured he is, but he does not stop you. In fact, it’s Bucky that nips at your lip, drawing you away in shock.

“You bit me.” You state, shocked.

“Sorry.” He says deeply.

Licking your lower lip, you shake your head. “No, it’s fine.”

That had to be it, that connection he felt, it’s because you could handle insanity.

Huffing against his lips, you breathe, open mouthed into his. “Is the serum a real thing?” You question before his tongue slips to yours.

Without a word, he’s gripping your sides and pulling you up, feet dangle before your thighs trap his waist, just one arm holding you there.

Okay. Serum’s real.

It’s hot mouths on each other until you tell him to take you to your bedroom.

“Listen to me.” He says as he sits you on the bed. “Don’t give me this just because you think it’s what I want.”

Immediately you shake your head. “No, no, I want this.”

He strokes your hair. “Think this through, there’s no going back after this, okay? You’ll be tied to me, you’ll be guilty by association, if you have me this once, I’ll want to keep coming back.”

Your heart hammers inside your chest, knees press together and your lips hang apart.

“You won’t have to keep coming back if you stay.” You say, reaching out to grip the top of his jeans. “I want it all.”

Psychotic, absolutely psychotic for speaking the words you speak and mean it so deeply. How could you say such things and still look like an angel? And how could you make him feel the way he does when you do nothing at all?

Bucky’s drunk, he’s gone, he doesn’t even know if it’s him or yet another alter ego that is enjoying all of this. But he’s undressing you and feeling every single valley and curve and soft spot. His lips are everywhere, pressed to your bare skin as you trust him with the most vulnerable parts of yourself. He’s kind to you, bringing you to a point where he knows you’re going to be relaxed enough for it. It’s his fingers that draw it out, they’re warming you up, causing your head to tilt back in ecstasy.

It courses in his blood, the rush he gets from watching you twitch and moan.

There’s stars that dance across your vision, they linger and burn, especially when you start to come down from the high you haven’t felt in awhile and he’s kissing your chest while lined up to your entrance.

“You can tell me no.” He offers one last time, but you shake your head fiercely.

“I want it.” You say, hand in his hair. “Do you?”

Does he? What a silly question for you to ask. He wants your everything, he wants to lay his claim and make you belong to with him. He wants to know you inside and out, wants to feel the way you’ll shudder and cry when he pushes you off the precipice.

“Yes.” He whispers, heavy eye contact as he stares down at you. “I want this. I want you.”

Your free hand comes to gently clutch the dog tags that hang from his neck, and you’re slightly breathless as you drag him down to your lips.

“You have me, you have me.”

Those pesky wires in his brain? The ones that are half connected? Well, they’re short circuiting. Maybe the wrong ones connect, because the level of possession he feels now isn’t one he thinks is normal. As the asset, he wasn’t allowed to possess anything, he was the possession…and before? Before the war and the snowy day in Austria and everything, he was sure he didn’t feel this way.

This is new, this is entirely because of you.

One hand braced at your head, the other grips the underside of your knee, keeping it far from the other and he pushes into you, maybe too fast.

The gasp that escapes your lungs is sharp and long, your eyes squeeze shut and he mirrors your drawn brows.

“I know, I know.” He comforts. “Breathe. There you go, just like that, my girl.”

His girl.

Toes are curled into the sheets. Maybe it’s because you haven’t done this in a while, or maybe because he’s so…big. You hide in his neck, chest heaving, fingers gripping his hair in hopes of relieving the pressure.

“Am I hurting you?” He asks, trying to get you to look at him.

“I just- ah, I need a second. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing for things.” He grunts in your ear. “We could stay like this for an hour, if that’s what you need.”

With the slight adjustment of your hips under him, you breathe out. “I-I’m okay, please, do something.”

Your normally soft voice has gained an octave, it’s bordering a whine, pinched and breathless and oh so desperate. And just like that, he slowly drags out and back in and it’s the best feeling he has ever known, better than the relief that comes after the electric shock stops.

He’s courteous, he’s gentle and slow and it’s soothing to the burn between your legs, all the way up until you get comfortable and needy for more.

Holding his jaw, you kiss him deeper, with no concern for how messy it is.

“More, please.” You say into his open mouth.

“So polite.” He teases, moving a hand up to your hip.

You choke on your inhale as he quickens his pace, driving into you in such a vulgar way, you’re threatening to arch off the mattress. But he holds you down and you take it, you take it as well as he knew you would, with nails digging into his back.

“Oh- like this. Ah, James, it’s so good.” You say, slack jawed and whiney.

You sound perfect, because you sound like this just for him. He has to grunt with a face of contortion.

“It’s because you take it so well, such a good girl.”

You blush violently at the moan that you let out, and from the way you flutter around him, he has a feeling you like the name you don’t get called often.

He might not 100% remember doing things like this, but he figures it out perfectly, encouraging you to tell him what you want and how you want it. But you’re so shy. He’s practically buried in your cervix, and you’re acting shy.

He laughs at you.

“You’re too sweet.” Is what he comments before making it his mission to figure out what it is exactly that you want.

That unserious and unspoken thought that you had to be a little crazy in order for you to be so perfect, it might just be true. Because Bucky sits back on his knees and grabs your hips, pulling them up to match the way he thrusts deeply into you, and you love it.

You love it so much, you curse and he gains a look of surprise.

His angel girl is writhing and cursing.

“Fuck, I think you’re in my stomach.” You laugh, you laugh. He’s fucking you in a way soft lovers would cringe at, and you’re laughing with pleasure.

You’re perfect.

Bucky doesn’t even know if he’s fully conscious anymore, he has to be, right? It’s not guaranteed with the haze in his head and the film over his eyes and the voice that whispers over and over.

Take, take, take. It says.

брать, брать, брать.

It sounds good in both languages.

Almost as good as the sound of you practically shouting praise. Maybe it’s intense for the first time, but nothing about this relationship was going to be subtle and calm.

You don’t want it to be.

That knot forms in your stomach, it shoots heat everywhere, your heart beats so loud you’re convinced he can hear it. Your back will ache from the way it’s arched, but it all feels too good to be a concern.

“I’m getting close.” You cry, legs shaking around him, hand over your mouth.

He leans back over you and takes the hand away, caging it to the pillow, under his.

“I want to hear you. I want to hear the noise you make when you come for me.” He tells you, hot breath mixing with yours.

You nod, wide eyes, aimed to please.

Bucky’s fingers curl with yours and that’s how he keeps your hand while the your other is damaging the skin of his back. He is no stranger to pain, and the fact you don’t mean to inflict it has his lips on your throat. His teeth graze the skin, like he’s the wolf ready to rip it apart. When he does bite the skin and you jolt at the feeling, you can only assume it’s a tic that he comes with.

His tongue presses to ease any discomfort, and hips are heavy into yours as he drives you to the point of breaking apart.

It’s high pitched and sob like, how you cry and tense against him. That hand squeezes his to ground yourself, and your head tips back, pressed into the pillow, and you lose it.

He watches in amazement and that voice is so pleased.

Mine, mine, mine.

It all pushes him overboard.

He does his best to work you through it, then he’s pulling out too fast and fisting himself to finish the job, painting across your stomach and he can’t look away.

You mourn the loss of contact, but far too overwhelmed to do anything about it. You look at him with blurry eyes, hot tears have leaked into your hair and he’s looking at the way his spend lays across your skin.

Then, deep blue eyes flick back up to yours and he’s….proud.

“You with me?” He asks in a husky tone.

You nod with a heavy head.

That’s when he finally lets go of your hand, moving to rub your cheek before he grips your jaw. Not tight, nothing to hurt you, but he grips it and your swollen lips part.

“It’s you and me now. You’re mine, do you understand?”

You shouldn’t love the sound of that but you do. So you nod, eyes heavy, skin aflame. He wipes tears, kissing you sweet and like he’s following orders, he cleans you up wordlessly.

Later, he’ll watch you sleep because you can’t fight it anymore, and he’ll know that feeling in his chest has settled. He’s a ghost with a home now, he’ll stay because you invited him in.

[art-is-the-life]

just for one night, please?

paring: joel miller x reader

words: 2.6k

i wanted to write a little thing because honestly joel has my whole heart. i don't usually post on this blog, and especially not writing but you know. there are no physical descriptions of the reader but there are a few uses of the nickname "honey" throughout. also i wrote this with the "sharing one bed" trope. technically there are two beds, but joel and reader only use one, anyway i digress. no smut only fluff! the only editing was grammarly so please forgive me. anyway, enjoy!

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“Shit..” Joel half-whispered in front of you, raising his hand to rub across his jaw. 

Looking into the dimly lit room the two of you just broke into, you notice the source of Joel’s expletive.

“One—” you begin to say, but you’re suddenly interrupted.

“Bed!” Ellie shouts, bringing up the rest of your trio, and Joel glares at her. She cringes with a falsely guilty smile and pushes you and Joel past to head into the shabby hotel room.   

“This place ain’t good, honey,” Joel begins in a low tone while Ellie tosses off her pack and flops on the bed. A dust cloud poofs around her when she hits the moth-bitten sheets, and you smile sheepishly and Joel. The name makes your heart flutter, but you push it away with a mental shake. You can’t be doing that.

“At least it has a bed?” You offer the same sheepish smile with your shoulders up to your chin in a defensive manner. 

“C’mon, old man, lighten up!” Ellie calls from the bed, looking up at the two of you huddled nervously around the door. 

“It’s just one night, Joel,” you sigh and look around the highly dusty room, “You don’t even have to sleep in the bed; you can keep watch all night.”

Joel follows your eyeline around the room until he meets your face again. He takes a moment to glance over your face, and you try to smile more convincingly. Behind you, Ellie is starting to snore, which you take as a sign. Gesturing to her on the bed, you tilt your head towards Joel, and he rubs his hand again across his jaw. 

“Please, Joel? This is one of the only places where we have been covered from the elements since we left Bill and Frank’s.” You put on your best doe eyes. “Please?”

“Fine, just tonight,” Joel grumbles, and you smile bigger, “But I don’t want you on second watch.”

You shrug, “Works for me.” You pull Joel further into the room and shut the door behind you. It’s a little beat up from the force you used to get in, but it still latches, so you consider it a win. You walk over to the bed in the corner and glance at Ellie, who is now sleeping soundly on her side and snoring quietly.

You sigh and grab her pack from where she abandoned it on the floor. You sling yours off and prop them up against the small kitchen island with a slight frown. Unzipping yours and digging through it for a moment, you find a slightly crushed granola bar you snagged from Bill’s apocalypse bunker. Ironic. You hear Joel rustling behind you, so you pause for a moment to listen to his heavy boots tread around the probably rotting floor of this old hotel. 

When you stand up, you notice another door slightly ajar, and it looks like it has something interesting in it. Slipping your gun from your hip, you slowly walk towards the door and nudge it open with your foot. Looking around carefully, you can see no Infected in this room either. You breathe out heavily in relief, poking further into the room. It looks identical to the room you, Joel, and Ellie broke into. One bed with a tiny kitchen and a large water stain leading out of a closed door. You think for a moment you should go in, but then Joel calls your name. 

“Another room?” Joel asks when you turn to see him leaning against the doorway you just went through.

“Looks like it, probably one of those old package deals where you can buy both rooms and have your kids in one and you in the other,” you reply, gesturing around the room with your gun while being careful not to point it near Joel. 

“‘S got another bed and everything, huh, honey,” Joel says, keeping his voice low to not wake Ellie. 

“Yeah, seems like it.” You respond and trail off slowly, putting your gun back where it’s stored on your hip and pointing to the closed door with your elbow. “What do you think is in there? It’s got a stain, and I want to assume it’s water.”

“Maybe it’s best not to check,” Joel says, but you huff nervously.

“What if there is something in there?” You mumble with a nervous flit at the end of your sentence.

You watch Joel’s jaw tick momentarily as he considers the options. On the one hand, you don't want to go in there and have to suddenly flee because you woke up something, or you just leave it and everything is fine. Or, again, in the worst-case scenario, you’re all bitten in the middle of the night, Ellie is left all alone, and this whole mission would be for nothing. 

“Joel?” You ask nervously again, and he shrugs. He’s more nonchalant than you want him to be about this, but you suppose at least one adult needs to be calm right now.

“I guess we gotta look,” he responds with his jaw still clenched. Slowly pulling out one of his many guns, Joel strides purposefully past you towards the door. You follow him, once again slowly pulling your gun back out along with a flashlight, and routinely cross your wrists over one another. Just like Tess taught you to. The thought makes your heart ache, so you push the idea from your mind and focus on the task at hand. 

Joel reaches the door, you right behind him. He turns the handle slowly, pushing the door open, and you both point your flashlights into the room, frantically searching for something that doesn’t seem to be there. You sigh in relief, and Joel seems to do the same because you can see his shoulders deflate slightly.

“Nothing,” you say, “Nothing is good, right?”

“Nothin’ is good,” Joel says, “Must’ve just been a leak that happened before the water was all turned off.”

“Right, right..” you take the arm of Joel’s jacket and pull him from the dark bathroom. Turning off your flashlight and tucking it and your gun into your right hand, you glance at the other bed.

“Y’know, this place is pretty secluded, and we haven’t seen anyone in this hotel. Maybe you don’t have to keep watch, just for tonight?” You try to keep your tone even and casual and not too suggestive of you and Joel sleeping in the same bed.

Immediately, this seems like a terrible suggestion because Joel tenses back up again and shakes his head, “No, I gotta keep watch. It‘s not safe no matter what.”

You straighten back up in response and nod quickly, “Yeah, yeah, you’re right.. Sorry. I’ll just take this bed and leave you to keep watch.”

Joel notices your stiffness and quickly shifts his demeanor, “Honey, don’t be like that.”

“Nah, I understand; please, go; I gotta fluff these sheets out,” you reply with a half-shrug, using just one of your shoulders.  

You begin to pull back the sheets, but Joel grabs your hand. You look up at him with wide eyes, and he looks back at you with an unreadable expression. He sighs and runs his free hand through his hair. 

“I didn’t mean it like that, honey,” he says in a low and gruff voice. “I just… I can’t sleep in a bed. Not with you.”

Your heart skips a beat. You’re not sure what to say. You want to ask him why, but you’re afraid of the answer. Joel seems to sense your hesitation. 

He takes a deep breath and continues, “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just… I don’t trust myself.”

You tilt your head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Joel looks away, his jaw clenching and dropping your hand. It’s still warm from his and it sends tingles up your arm. “I’m not a good man. I’ve done terrible things. I don’t deserve to be with someone like you.”

You reach out and touch his arm with the same hand he was just holding. “Joel, everyone has done things they regret. It doesn’t make you a bad person.” Joel just shakes his head in reply. 

“You don’t understand. I’m a monster.”

“No, you’re not,” you say firmly. “You’re a good man, Joel. You’re kind and caring, and you’ve protected Ellie and me from so much.”

Joel looks at you, his eyes filled with pain. “I don’t want to hurt you, honey.”

“You won’t,” you say softly. “I trust you.”

Joel nods slowly. He takes your hand again and squeezes it gently. “Thank you,” he whispers and you squeeze his hand back supportively.

You smile. “Come to bed, Joel. We’ll both keep watch.” 

Joel hesitates for a moment, his movements jittery, and then nods. He moves around to the other side of the bed, and you grab the corner of the sheets you are closest to. He holds his side and, in tandem, flips up the sheets and shakes them out vigorously to get the dust out. It works almost too effectively because your eyes start to water, and you inhale too much of the musty, dusty, almost moldy, sheet smell. Trying to suppress your coughs not to wake Ellie, you turn away from the bed while Joel finishes the job with his shirt over his nose.

You slip yourself underneath the sheets when he seems satisfied with a job well done. You move over to make room for him, and he lies beside you. You turn on your side to face him, and he does the same. You just lie there, looking at each other for a long time. You can feel the tension between you, but it’s not bad. It’s a tension that’s filled with unspoken words and desires. Eventually, Joel breaks the silence.

“Goodnight,” he says softly with your name, and you feel your heart clench.

“Goodnight, Joel,” you reply. You close your eyes, but you don’t sleep. You can’t. You’re too aware of Joel’s presence beside you: his warmth, scent, and breath on your skin. You know you’re playing with fire but can’t help yourself. You’re going to do something you regret if you’re not careful. Especially with Eillie in the next room, it’s too risky. As you and Joel lie side by side, the silence is filled with unspoken words and the soft sounds of the night outside the hotel. There aren’t many ambient sounds these days. The hum of electricity or cars rolling down the roads doesn’t happen like before. You feel Joel's hand brush against yours, which shakes you from your thoughts, whether intentionally or not, and your heart skips a beat.

"Are you okay?" Joel's voice is barely above a whisper, rough yet tender.

"Yeah," you reply, turning to face him in the dim light. "Just... a lot on my mind."

Joel nods, understanding. "I get it. It's hard to find peace these days."

You both fall silent again, the air thick with tension. After a few moments, you decide to take a risk. "Joel, about what you said earlier... You're not a monster. You've done what you had to do to survive."

Joel's eyes flicker with pain. "You don't know the half of it, honey."

"Then tell me," you urge gently. "Let me in, Joel. We don't have to carry these burdens alone."

He hesitates, but a look in his eyes tells you he's considering it. Just as he's about to speak, a sudden noise from the other room startles both of you. It's Ellie, mumbling in her sleep. You both relax when you realize she's just dreaming.

"She's been through so much," you say softly, your heart aching for the young girl. "But she's strong, just like you."

Joel's expression softens as he looks at you. "I don't know what I'd do without you and Ellie."

"You don't have to find out," you whisper, squeezing his hand. "We're in this together."

Joel sighs, a sound that's almost a release of the tension he's been holding. "Maybe... maybe you're right."

The moment is interrupted by a scratching outside the door. Both of you instantly go on high alert. Joel sits up, grabbing his gun, and you follow suit, flashlight in hand. The noise gets louder, and you realize someone, or something is outside.

"I'll check it out," Joel says in a low voice, and you nod, staying close behind him.

As Joel slowly opens the door, you shine your flashlight into the hallway. It's empty, but the sound continues. Following the noise, you both move stealthily down the corridor, alert for any signs of danger. You turn a corner and come face to face with a stray dog rooting through some old trash. The relief is palpable as you both lower your weapons. But the idea that a dog got in fills you with dread. What if there is an owner, and this is a human sniffing dog, and soon you’re about to be found.

"Just a dog," you whisper, laughing softly in relief but anxiety clawing at your chest.

Joel seems to be thinking the same thing you are, especially since you’re only on the first floor of the building. It would be possible for other people to find their way into this—people like raiders, who are just as dangerous as those who are infected. Joel stays alert momentarily, watching the dog root around by the other doors. Most of them are boarded up or entirely doorless. The two of you remain silent and still for several minutes; the only sound is your combined breathing, which is slow and steady. But you can feel your heart beating out of your chest, and you're shocked it isn't making an audible sound against your ribcage.

After a while, Joel finally chuckles, too, a rare sound that warms your heart. "Let's get back before Ellie wakes up, freaks out, and wonders where we are."

Back in the room, Joel tightly shuts the door again. You glance around momentarily and pull over one of the only non-broken chairs that used to make up a small dining set in the room. Joel shimmies the chair under the door and looks up to see if most hotels' old locking mechanism remains intact. Finding it hanging off its hinges, you suck in a breath of air. Joel seems satisfied with the chair, so you can trust his judgment. Heading back through the door that connects the room, Ellie is into the room you found; Joel drags over another chair to place under the main door in this room. Even though it was boarded up like most doors in this place, he still fits the chair under in added protection. 

“Good?” You ask quietly, feeling yourself slip slowly out of adrenaline. 

“Think so,” Joel replies gruffly, so you nod in agreement. 

You settle down again, and Joel slips in beside you. Despite locking the doors more securely, Joel still pulls out his handgun and rifle to sit on the molding bedside table. You figure you should do the same so the harsh metal doesn't dig into your skin the whole night. You stay silent while Joel rummages around in his pack for a while and smile when he comes up with a small lantern he took from Bill and Frank’s. A certain sort of calm replaces the earlier tension, and when you turn back to Joel, he’s already looking at you. 

“What?” you ask with a smile, and he responds by wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close.

"Just for tonight," he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. You can feel your heart skip a beat but appreciate what he does nonetheless. It’s a step in the right direction and at least a little confirmation that you’re not alone in your feelings. So you nod, feeling a sense of safety and belonging in his embrace. 

"Just for tonight," you agree, but deep down, you both know that something has changed between you. As you drift off to sleep, you realize that the walls Joel has built around his heart are starting to crumble, and for the first time in a long time, you feel hope for the future.

--------------------------------------------------------

[nettleofthedead]

Hello everyone. I feel very embarrassed to have to make a post, but I’m dealing with some urgent dental issues that need to be treated ASAP.

I have two teeth that need root canals. The molar tooth might need to be extracted and done as an implant, but I won’t know until they look at it. I also have a bad cavity that formed last night (exposing some of my dentin) next to the other tooth that needs a root canal. Infection is starting to form bad in there, as well. I’m not currently in any pain, but I’ve been getting sick lately because of it.

Using the cost estimator for my dental insurance, the total [estimated] portion of my half for my treatments is going to be $1,455. This is including the two root canal costs, and the new cavity that formed. I’m going to see my dentist ASAP, so the total cost may be adjusted after he checks it out. That said, I believe that my estimate should be accurate.

I’m in a very bad financial situation where I can’t save up the money for the treatment. I’m almost $4,000 in debt, and struggling to crawl myself out of it while barely being able to pay for rent and bills. I’m not asking for assistance on that mess though.

I have a scheduled appointment on my birthday, on April 1st. However, I’m only going to be able to reschedule the appointment back by another month. I really don’t want to, though, because of my health being affected.

I’ll be updating this once a day, apologizing for the spam.

Goal: $20/$1,455

Paypal: dead.nettled@gmail.com

Cashapp: $deadnettled

I don’t have other payment methods yet, but I can look into them if needed. Even if you can’t donate, I have very little of a following, so reblogging would be extremely appreciated. If anyone knows of other resources for me to look into (I can’t do CareCredit), I would appreciate it also.

[noa-ciharu]

I'm not sure if I'm onto something here but this page/explanation plus everything that follows has always been suspicious to me

First and foremost: blood poisoning isn't most peaceful way to die, far from that. If poison is so lethal Dazai and Fyodor are supposed to die in 30 mins symptoms would have started showing right away - and yet throught whole Meursalut escape arc we see none. Not a single 'I'm feeling weak'. It's stated that Fyodor spent 5 mins just waiting for Chuuya to arrive so I'm really doubtful whole sequence of him and Chuuya nearly drowning, then killing time halting ability user, trying to drown Sigma and Dazai, Fyodor's and Sigma's confrontation and Fyodor's escape could have happened under 25 mins. Of course, it could be that whatever Nikolai gave them takes more than half an hour to kill a human but that still doesn't explain 1) why no symptoms 2) why neither Dazai nor Fyodor seem to be in the hurry to leave

Therefore my assumption is that whatever Nikolai gave them wasn't lethal in the first place.

But why lie then? Why organize the whole game to begin with?

Well, it's certainly challenging to determine motives of character as unpredictable as Nikolai. His absurdist life philosophy of seeking freedom by trying to escape himself and what makes him human certainly doesn't help the case. One of guesses can be pure entertainment, just for sake of it. For an entertainer it fits the bill. But I think there's more to it.

Except he doesn't really. By now we know whatever Fyodor's ability is that it isn't combat one - if Nikolai wanted to kill him he wouldn't necessarily need to know what it is. Not to mention Sigma can extract info from corpses, meaning they can kill Fyodor and then find out about his ability. While I'm certain Nikolai doesn't really want Fyodor dead, I can't claim with absolutely certain at that point in manga he's aware of that himself (of course he is after Fyodor 'dies' later on).

Much rather than that I think Nikolai is trying to kill what Fyodor evoke in him - feeling of being understood and wanting to understand other in return. That'll explain the game, trying to break Fyodor out of the prison without being too straightforward about it because he himself cannot decide what he really wants and stick by one decision, putting trust on test, wanting to know about Fyodor's ability and generally about Fyodor and so on.

While it's definitely arguable if Dazai would receive an antidote if he just killed Fyodor without actually escaping, it's also worth noting he was leisure with time (aka had time of his life soft bulling Sigma). Of course, chapter where Dazai talks with Nikolai post all the mess is yet to come out so it's impossible to tell in advance, but I have a hunch Dazai knew right from the start there's no danger of blood poisoning. Or at very least took gamble on that. Nikolai said something among "my apologies I have to poison you too but he (fyodor) wouldn't take the syringe otherwise" so it's clear right off the bat Dazai doesn't really hold his interest in that whole game. He's there for Fyodor and brought Sigma with him to extract information out of him.

As for Fyodor, did he knew blood poisoning wasn't a thing? Before chapter 111 I would have said yes given he too didn't seem to he in the hurry to escape, had no symptoms and didn't take the antidote right off the bat when Nikolai gave it to him. But then we have this:

Does Fyodor mean poison or game itself? My guess is poison because if latter that'd imply Fyodor expected Nikolai to help him break out of Mesaurlet which would imply broken trust. And we all know Fyodor and placing trust in others is like oil and water

To me Nikolai looks straightout dejected here. He's a performer that revels in these types of high stakes game, he should be grinning like a madman - but he's not. So in my opinion he was searching something from Fyodor here that he didn't quite get. It could be just in this scene/exchange or in whole game. But if my hunch that Nikolai was trying to get Fyodor out of Meursalut just needed Fyodor to place iota trust in him is correct, then Fyodor stamping over that hope and failing to see Nikolai's intention wasn't to kill him despite his theatrical proclaims it is would be reason for dejection. Whatever bids for connection he was looking in Fyodor likely won't be returned because of Fyodor's mistrust in people and abiding by cold rationale rather than intuition/emotions.

Therefore my conclusion is that whole Gogol game was a test:

- for Fyodor to put trust in others when he has no rational basis to (his major character flaw) - and that's precisely why he lost in the end. I could go miles here how Dazai put trust in Chuuya (and even Sigma) and how those bonds are very reason he managed to win but that's for some other time gives there's a lot to be talked about soukoku, I'd like to focus on doa trio here.

- for Sigma to realize the difference between being used and being of use, aka realize difference between transaction and a bond. I'd say he did well by placing trust in Dazai but it's yet to be seen if his decision to take Fyodor's hand was the 'right' one. His character arc ain't over, it heavily depends on what info he extracted from Fyodor so it's too early to tell how it'll go. Also this depends on Dazai's actions anime hasn't shown, like will he stick to his promise to save Sigma or not. Given promise he made to Oda 4 years before, I think it's definitely in character for Dazai to come back for him, fetch comatose Sigma and bring him to Yokohama.

- for Nikolai himself to realize what he wants to do with feeling of emotional/intellectual connection he deemed as 'imprisoning'. He's at conundrum himself what he wants to do with Fyodor: help him or kill him - accept the instinct or fight against it for no other reason than to oppose very self - lose sight of himself in the end just like Fyodor said. If we go by anime ending (I doubt manga one will be much diffrent), he came to realization how Fyodor changed his life and how he actually never wanted him dead but it was too late by then. Now haunted by realization only one who ever understood him and only person he ever felt connected to is dead, Nikolai will come to realize true hell of being imprisoned by own mind without means of escaping.

All three of them had some sort of downfall induced by their 'cardinal sins'; their own 'decays' as downfalls source from inner character flaws, so to speak.

[skaruresonic]

Unpopular take but the Shadow manga was pretty dissapointing from art wise to how different the characters behave from what we have seen in he older games. I just feel like the manga is getting overly praised because " its not idw or american or flynn therefore its good!' While not looking at the short story critical enough.

...What is there to criticize yet? People have been jumping the gun with assumptions that Black Doom retconned Maria's death when we quite literally don't know that for sure. This is the first issue. Maybe give it some room to breathe first.

I plan on reading the issue in full once I buy it, although not knowing Japanese will hinder my comprehension. I likely won't understand the dialogue, but it's not bad, at least from what few snippets I've seen. Certainly, it's no Tolstoy, but like. Does a manga need to be?

You also have to keep the Shiny New Thing(tm) phenomenon in mind. Lots of us have been asking for a Sonic manga for years and now we finally have one. Everything new will initially receive hype before people reexamine it with a critical eye.

Back when dinosaurs roamed the earth and IDW was just starting out, most of us were, in fact, praising the book and getting hyped for new issues. We weren't yet privy to the steep nosedive it'd take in quality following the metal virus.

---

I just feel like the manga is getting overly praised because " its not idw or american or flynn therefore its good!'

Hey now, that's not entirely true: I also enjoyed the Schadenfreude of dunking on "Shadow was tortured on the ARK" headcanons. To say nothing of the quality Shadria and that tasty Parasite Eve reference :P

Look, I know I have Shadria goggles strapped on so tight they're practically cutting off circulation to my head, but I feel like that's a little unfair to say considering we've only seen bits and pieces of issue one and have to rely on fan translations to know what's happening on any given page. It's not like we're 15 volumes in and Shadow's done nothing but brood. And just because I wasn't tempering my gushing with "Shadow looks weird in some panels" doesn't mean I wasn't silently thinking the latter. Trying to give the manga the benefit of the doubt here.

When you wander the Fauxteur Desert for years, even cloudy water will look like an oasis. In a series where the majority of fans and creators view the source material with disdain, as something to be mutilated in order to be considered "good," beggars can't be choosers. You have to take whatever Ws you can. It can be simultaneously true that I think the manga is good on its own merits and good because it's better than its contemporaries. One doesn't necessarily negate the other.

Besides, at the risk of sounding massively hypocritical... Is it so bad to feel relieved when you finally get served some decent food in this Chili's and you discover you're not as emotionally broken as everybody says you are? IDW fans gaslight you day in and day out with "you can't read," "you don't understand the characters," "you hate the series," and "you need therapy," and when you find something that brings you joy, for once, amidst the sea of phoned-in spinoffs tha pussyfoot around being faithful to the games at best and regard them with disdain at worst, something that doesn't feel like pulling teeth to read? You realize how full of shit they were.

The Shadow manga is better, objectively speaking. And I don't think it's quite fair to imply that comparisons to IDW should be off the table when we keep getting IDW forced down our throats as the cultural touchstone that defines Sonic, sometimes taking top billing before the games. I had to listen to everyone parrot "Eggman can't plan" as if it were Ohshima-given fact for three and a half years. Certainly, people can handle me going "omg Shadria <3" for a few posts.

The art is better. The blocking is better. The emotional beats land by virtue of being competently executed, instead of thinking we'll be won over by five-paragraph monologues. Sometimes the art carries the story! Wow! Compared to other media where the characters never shut up long enough to let us draw our own conclusions - a problem shared by Archie, IDW, Prime, the films, and Boom - that actually is a lot, all things considered.

And, yes, suffice to say, if fan translations are accurate, the writing is better, if only because it seems to come from a rare place of respecting the source material.

That probably sounds like I have no standards, but you have to realize the bar has been placed in hell and writers continue to cha-cha slide right on under it. IDW has Starline knock Shadow out with a freaking log, whereas in the manga Shadow stops a bullet in midair. I'm sorry I can't shut off my initial gut reaction of "holy shit that was bad ass."

It's not even like he stopped the bullet psychokinetically a la Neo, he caught that shit mid trajectory. Unlike the scene where Shadow gets knocked out with a log, nerfing him in order to hype up an OC, thinking about the logistics of the speed and precision needed to intercept a bullet in such a manner just makes it even cooler.

Good writing is enhanced by the application of thought. It doesn't punish the reader for considering the implications. The writer doesn't tell you to "go read something else" if the narrative disappoints.

This isn't even a contest.

...I know, dude. I'm aware it's not the best thing since sliced bread. It's a serial manga. Not expecting Shakespeare here. I just need it to be relatively faithful to the games and not emit an air of arrogant superciliousness towards the source material.

My standards are incredibly low considering how much higher they could be, and that's because 90% of spinoffs fail at clearing the first bar. If I maintained as stringent a standard as my adoring fans say I do, I'd have absolutely nothing to read lol.

[serendark]

About my tags on that "You seem really odd and your blog intrigues me. Do you want to have philosophical conversations or perhaps talk about fictional characters?" post I just reblogged: My Gravity Falls fic list at the moment is something I upkeep on a personal Discord server, originally so I could find them again later easier, and also because I didn't want to 'lose' them, I suppose. I thought of it as a list of my favorite fics, but it ended up just turning into fics I liked a lot in general or found otherwise noteworthy, rather than being my most favorites. I have marked out a relatively small section of my top favorites of all the favorites I've read, though, and a sort of secondary tier for my top favorites that aren't that high.

I have it organized into categories and subcategories and everything! It's actually gotten so long that I've deemed it no longer sustainable to keep organizing on Discord, so I started assembling a Google Doc for them. I've only gotten a few of the fics transferred over there from Discord though; it's kind of a tedious process and will take more time so I've been procrastinating, haha.

The categories and subcategories are as follows! Note that these can be pretty arbitrary, loose, and/or based on vibes, haha. Oh, and the overarching categories like "Sea Grunkles" and "Canon-Compliance / Mid-Canon" count as places for fics to be, too! They don't have to just be in the subcategories. For example, I have "Elemental" by Voidfish and "Saltwater" by interlude simply in the Canon-Compliance tab rather than being further organized into any of the subcategories since these fics are about moments across characters' lives, thus don't really sort into specific time periods particularly cleanly. "A Mariner's Guide to the Unexplained" by mariezies, "A Steady (Heart) Beat Goes 1, 2, 3, 4" by JackyRubou, and "Ever-newer Waters" by dorbee are all simply under Sea Grunkles since they're more about the Grunks in a general sense post-canon, or the situation they're dealing with isn't an Adventure, exactly, which is where I'd put them dealing with anomalies. There's a lot of overlap with categories and subcategories, so I think of them more as "what does the primary focus of the fic seem to be about" and focus on vibes. Like I said, arbitrary and loose! I haven't really read any Reverse Falls stuff yet, so I don't have a category for it, among other AUs I'm sure I'm missing. Billford - Pre-Betrayal - Post-Betrayal

Sea Grunkles - Adventures - At the Mystery Shack - Introspection / Repairing Bridges - Mental Health / Trauma - Amnesiac Stan-Related - Nightmares

Post-Canon - Bill's Theraprism - Post-Weirdmageddon Woes - Piedmont - Holidays - Amnesiac Stan-Related

Canon-Compliance / Mid-Canon - Summer 2012: Before Ford - Summer 2012: After Ford - Portal Era - Ford's Portal Adventures - Researcher & Mullet Pines 80's Era - Stan Twins Childhood

Canon Divergence - Summer 2012 - Portal Era - Researcher & Mullet Pines 80's Era - Stan Twins Childhood ----- Ford Leaves Home With Stan AU / Hobo Stans AU / Homeless AU ----- Stan Re-Enters Ford's Life during Backupsmore AU

(I should probably move those two into the misc. AUs section for consistency...?)

Portal-Related AUs - Portal Mabel / Drifting Stars ----- Relativity Stars AU ----- Grifting Stars AU - Portal Stans ----- Blind Faith AU ----- Bounty Hunter AU - Reverse Portal ----- Portal Stan - Other Portal AUs

Other AUs - A Better World - Ghost Stan AU / Ghosts - Journal of Missing Links (JOML) / Grim AU - Mystery Trio AU ----- Frankenstan AU - One and a Half Stans (1.5 Stans) AU - One of Us AU ----- Reverse One of Us - Relativity Falls AU / Inverse & Inverted Falls - Timestuck / Timetrapped AU ----- Reverse Timestuck AU ----- Twins in Time AU ----- Misc. Time Shenanigans

[konahrics]

I once made a post about the DG dlc and how it didn't live up to its potential, but every time i read it i feel like it's just a wall of disjointed text lmao so here's a better version for those interested:

- Harkon should have been more insane. His personality is fine, he should just be more obviously bonkers while being a haughty power-hungry mf, and it would come into play later for the radiant quests

- I wish the Volkihar members were more interesting. I haven't really counted how many npcs have backstories/unique lines in the Dawnguard vs the Volkihar so i won't talk numbers, but the Dawnguard npcs are just more memorable overall imo.

- Serana should lead the Volkihar at the end if you side with the vamps, not the pc. I know every questline in Skyrim ends up making the pc the leader of their faction, with the Dawnguard being an exception, but Serana just fits the bill better: she's a pure-blood while the pc is a half-blood, she's much more experienced in vampire politics and she's Harkon's daughter.

- For players who actually want to lead, it could be an option once you've done a lot of radiant quests, like how you restore the Ratway to its former glory in the Thieves' Guild questline, except instead Serana goes "hey yknow what? I don't even want to lead and you've been doing a lot. Here's your new crown."

- THE RADIANT QUESTS. Omg the potential. For the Volkihar: that's the part where Harkon having become obsessed with the prophecy would play a role. He's been neglecting his territory, other clans are encroaching and he either didn't even notice or didn't care. Now it's your problem. Also, you need to cull vamp numbers in the province so people don't make Dawnguard 2: electric boogaloo, both because of vampires invading from other provinces to take you territory and because of newly-formed covens, and you need to recruit more actual Volkihar by turning people (i like the quests that are already there for turning npcs tbh). For the Dawnguard: oh shit turns out the Volkihar were keeping other clans at bay and culling their own numbers, and now that they're gone, it's your job ig. The in-game quests are already pretty good, but introducing foreign clans would add to the world, essentially.

- Why does it feel so much like a good vs evil plotline? The Dawnguard admittedly has some nuance to it (they're good people who want to protect others from the vampire menace, but their leader has a torture chamber next to his bedroom...), but the Volkihar literally live in a castle whose floors are splattered with blood and have human cattle in the basement. I wish at least once Harkon is defeated, if you were on the vamps' side, you could choose how to run the faction. Maybe the "cattle" could be volunteers only and not kept in cages, or something, my point being that it should be left up to the player. Ngl, every time i side with the Volkihar, i feel bad about it.

- While the Dawnguard are making moves and recruiting in preparation for their fight against the Volkihar, the vamps are kinda just sitting there. There could be an internal struggle between those who are loyal to Harkon and those who believe he isn't fit to rule anymore (instead of the Vingalmo vs Orthjolf feud being about which of them can lick boots better, they could each represent the pro- and anti-Harkon sides), the result being that they're still not really reacting to the Dawnguard threat, but now there's a reason; they're too busy plotting against each other. And once Harkon's dead, the surviving vampires can work together and be less likely to stab each other in the back, which in turn sounds less exhausting for whoever ends up leading them.

Tbh the whole reason behind this rant (i guess "these rants" now...) is that some custom followers don't trust or react badly to a vampire pc, and with the game as it is, it makes total sense, so i wish Skyrim vampires weren't mustache-twirling villains. Also maybe i'm planning a fanfic with this Volkihar headcanon and wanted something to reference so people wouldn't think i'm misremembering the hell out of this game lol

[user-rui]

Soulmate!Seme!Male!Reader x Soulmate!Uke!Male!Insert

(U/n) = Uke name

(Y/n) = Your name

This is a text that has you inserting yourself and another male of your choice. Put anyone you want maybe it'll work out (though I've written it with male x male in mind). Also cross posted on Ao3 right here.

Soulmate AU: There are a few different versions but the one I'm doing is where an hour before the new year a red string will appear on two soulmates' pinkies (if one's soulmate is not born or dead, it will not appear). The string will disappear once it turns to the new year. Might experiment with other versions in the future. Enjoy~

-(Y/n)'s POV-

Hi! My name is (Y/n) (Seme last name) and I'm one of your average members of society. Nothing too special about me, just working my ass off to pay bills... like everyone else. This year is the 14th year I've been trying to find my soulmate. Yeah, I know. I've managed to miss my soulmate for 14 years. Whoever my destined partner is is gonna murder me once I find them. Honestly, after missing them for the fourth year, I kinda gave up and just took up the fact that I would be forever alone.

All of my friends had found theirs within the first or second year. But this lonely feeling in my heart kept on growing and growing and I really couldn't bear it anymore. I've earned enough money to live relatively well for the rest of my life, but money isn't going to get me a partner. Which is why I'm out at 12:46 right now, desperately following a glowing red string to wherever it'll take me. 

I turned a sharp corner and stopped myself just in time before rushing out onto the busy streets. "Holy shit, how much further?" I growled, looking down at my watch as I waited for the street light to change. 11:57... I'm gonna miss it again... I thought as I started to dash again. "5! 4! 3! 2! 1!" Fucking- "Happy new year!!"

Fireworks were set off as I turned a corner, praying that the string wouldn't fade away. But I was still too late, the once glowing red string faded into nothingness. I was too busy watching it to notice another person turning the corner as well. "Ow!" He and I yelp simultaneously. Rubbing my head, I looked up, wincing slightly to see what I had bumped into. Coincidentally, the other person also looked up and we made eye contact. His (uke eye colour) eyes are beautiful… 

A worried (and angelic, might I add) tone suddenly broke my train of thought. "Are you okay?" he asked, sticking out his hand so I could grab it. "Hm? Oh yeah, I'm fine. How about you?" I answered, taking his hand and pulling myself up. "No major injuries," he chirped, releasing my hand and dusting a bit more snow off of his legs. "Just a bit wet."

We went to a nearby hotel (cause they have laundry service there) and got a room. While our clothes took their sweet time getting clean, the male, who's name I learned is (U/n), and I talked a bit about the situation from before. He said that ever since he was born, there had been a red string every year and he was desperately trying to find his soulmate.

"That's quite some courage. What are you going to do if you can't find your soulmate?" His (uke eye colour) orbs had a hint of question as he thought about it. When he answered, he said: "As long as the string is there, I’ll make sure I find them!" I chuckled at his enthusiasm and got up to check on the washed and dried clothes. "You'll definitely find your soulmate before I do."

Another year has passed and it was about time single pringles would run around the streets trying to find their other half. I had been working out, along with (U/n) who decided that we should keep in contact. I was ready for this annual run, and I was determined to reach the finish line this time. (U/n) said he wanted to try a different neighbourhood and wanted to test his luck there, so I drove him there and dropped him off.

I found a crowded plaza close to him and parked my car, waiting for this ghost of a red string to appear once again. I dozed off thinking about what my significant other could look like. It would be nice if they had (uke hair colour) locks and stunning (uke eye colour) orbs... whoever it is could also have (uke skin tone) skin and be (shorter, taller, about the same height) as/then me...

I felt a rush of wind go past me as I see others running about the plaza, following what I see as nothing. I looked down and saw my own red string and snapped out of my thought. "Oh fuck, precious seconds I'm never getting back..." I cursed as I joined the crowd, running. Wind rushed through my sweat filled hair as I ran around the streets following the thin red string as it took me to... the neighbourhood I dropped (U/n) off at?!

"Damn it... if I knew they’d be here I would've stayed with (U/n)... What a waste of time..." I muttered, following the string, winding up and down the long roads to find (U/n) being harassed by a group of shady looking people.

"Come on! Just give in already! Your soulmate doesn't want you anymore so just stay with us! We'll make you feel so good!" 

I rushed over and punched the bitches in their ugly ass faces and snatched (U/n) back from them. "Fuck off! He has a soulmate and it definitely isn't any of you!" Those very shady people must've seen my angry expression cause it didn't take them three seconds before they were running for their lives. After scaring them off, I looked down at (U/n), who was currently holding the sleeve of my jacket. “Did they hurt you anywhere?” I worriedly asked.  "N-no... (Y/n), look at your- I mean our hands..."

I looked down and finally saw what I've been wanting to see for at at least a decade. The end of my red string was attached to none other than (U/n), who was admiring our hands like an art sculpture in a museum. His (uke eye colour) eyes were sparkling in the night, as he mumbled, "so maybe it was fate that we bumped into each oth- Mph?!"

I grabbed his face and hastily connected it with mine, just as fireworks fired off signaling the end of another year. Except this year would be the start of an everlasting relationship, bound together by lovely red strings of fate.

[bunnylovesani]

Don’t let anyone tell you they own any concept of a character they didn’t even come up with in the first place.

I wrote hella stories or one shots for bill skarsgard characters and if I saw something that inspired me, I wrote my own version or twist but it was never stealing an idea or plagiarism. Everyone of my posts is straight from my brain to my phone while I’m waiting at the dmv, or in line at Disneyland.

And the idea that stalker anakin is a new concept is literally insane. Just for the kids in the back, let me list what is not unique and never has been an original idea in any fandom:

Stalker

Toxic

Dilf

Ex

Mechanic

Dominant

Submissive

Jealous

Possessive

Trashy

Mafia or criminal type

Drug dealer

Drug addict

Fighter

Biker

Rockstar

Frat boy

Professor or teacher

Boss

Cheater

Married

Psychiatrist

Cop

Model

Photographer

Actor

News reporter

Influencer

Abusive

Lifeguard

Doctor

Lawyer

Rich boy

Fuck boy

Vampire

Pro athlete

Race car driver or street racer

Pilot

Stepdad

Stepbrother

Dads best friend

Brothers best friend

Your best friend

Your best friends boyfriend

Hot neighbor

Hot coworker

I could keep going, but that’s just what I came up with off the top of my head.

You keep doing your thing, and if anyone doesn’t like my opinion, kindly take it out on me and not this girl.

I don’t know how well you deal with getting harassed but most people don’t like it.

Anybody wanna argue or insult or be a cunt, come on over to my blog and pick on me. This is a safe place where we can express ourselves and rewrite the stories, we wish ended differently or make our favorite characters even more toxic than they started.

This is not the place to act like the mean girl, geek squad, gate keepers from the cunty castle in a galaxy far, far away!

I wasn’t going to comment on the situation any further but this message was so nice I had to reply and say thank you so much for the support ♡

I understand if you’re going to be a part of a community then you should have ‘etiquette’ and I would normally follow that but in this instance I genuinely don’t think I took her au and half the people getting involved haven’t read and compared the two fics. I’ve also seen stalker Anakin fics on ao3 and wattpad before so I don’t think it’s original enough to claim as your own idea.

MOREOVER, you could argue my Anakin isn’t even a stalker: a stalker is a person who ‘pursues someone obsessively to the point of aggressive harassment’. This does not fit the bill for my character at all.

On a side note that list is very handy for future fic inspo!

Thanks again for the nice words from you and the other lovely people in my inbox, I see them, I appreciate you all and I’d love it if we moved on now ♡

[unpopularly-opinionated]

Random update on my journey to become a pretentious film buff:

I've been trying to push for a movie a day, at least. Sometimes two if I'm lucky. Sometimes none if I'm lazy. But after my last post where I watched the entire Alien Franchise (sans AvP and Romulus), here's what I've been watching:

Psycho: Yes, I finally watched the original Psycho. To be honest, I've always had a problem watching older movies, so I was surprised at how easy it actually was to watch this one. It was pretty good, though perhaps for the wrong reason. I was honestly laughing through most of it over just how bad these people were at committing crimes and getting away with them. Like that girl was acting so incredibly sus in front of that cop for no good reason. Anyways, 4/5 stars I guess (I'm using Letterboxd to keep track of this).

X & Pearl: In case you don't know, those are two separate movies but they're related via the main character. I watched X first, and Pearl second. Not sure what the intended order of it actually was though, but whatever. It wasn't too bad in that order. Both I thought were pretty good, though I kind of preferred X to Pearl because I thought the "antagonist" motivations in X were...let's just say unique. I can't recall a time where I've seen that particular motivation used. I gave X a 3/5.

Pearl was still pretty good, I just liked X better. Unless you're an idiot like me, the connection between these two movies is pretty obvious, but it tripped me up at first so I didn't wind up understanding it until the very end. Anyways, this movie's good. 3/5 stars (these are arbitrary lol).

Boy Kills World: The one and only non-Horror movie I watched recently. I'm not exactly trying to focus on horror, it's just sort of accidental at this point. I'm in a horror mood so I'm just bingeing horror movies I haven't seen. I swear I watch other stuff too lol.

Anyways, this movie was about as good as one could probably expect it to be. It's just a cheesy, dumb action flick. The plot is middling, but it works. The plot twist is alright. I didn't see it coming exactly, but I also wasn't like "omg no way, what!?", it was just a thing that happened, ya know? Overall, I think my only criticism is that it felt like it was missing a second act. Bill Skarsgard is insanely nice to look at throughout the entire movie though so that's a plus. 3 1/2 stars.

Brightburn: I'm gonna be honest, I didn't care for this movie. It tries to go with the whole "bad guys win" ending that, to me, just fell flat because I don't really give a shit about the bad guy. I'm not sure if I'm meant to feel for him inherently because he's a child, but he's a pretty boring as fuck child so I wound up not caring when he inevitably won. 2/5 stars.

Smile: This movie was OK, but it really felt like that scenario when someone asks to copy your homework and you tell them to just change a few of the details. The one who's homework they're copying of course is It Follows. They have very similar premises, only instead of the monster passing through sex like a shitty STD, this monster passes through trauma like a shitty ex. Personally, I think It Follows did it better. 3/5 stars.

The First Omen: The last on this update, I just finished this right before writing this and it was alright? So, perhaps controversially, I've yet to see The Omen (watching it literally as I type this) so this movie didn't do much for me. I understand it's setting up The Omen though, so that's where the supposed payoff is, but I personally think movies should be able to stand up by themselves, even if they're connected to a franchise, and I'm not sure this one does.

This movie left me confused. It focuses hard on this young girl, leading you to believe she's vitally important and you reasonably assume she's the key figure or "MacGuffin" in this movie, only for us to find out that she's not, and it's actually the main character who's the important one. But then I'm left wondering why I spent the last hour and a half of this two hour movie focused on a red herring.

Not to mention, there's a lingering question I had by the end when everything is burning down which is... if y'all have the actual fucking Devil chained up in your basement as your demonic sperm donor, why the fuck do you need the antichrist so bad?

I'm also just kind of curious about their overall motivations here. Like, we're told that they belong to a different sect of the church who believes that they need to make bad things happen so that more people are drawn to the faith, which at face-value I'm like okay cool, reasonable motivation I guess. But then what is the plan with the antichrist then? They have him get raised by some well-off politician (to set up the Omen) but then what? Presumably you intend to kill him at some point? Is the idea to let him get powerful enough to show everyone he's the legit antichrist, but not so powerful that he doesn't wind up destroying the world like he's meant to? It's just confusing is all, I don't know. Hopefully the Omen explains it. Or the Omen II. Or III. Or IV lol. Anyways, 3/5.

[a-force-dyad-in-space]

A Fanfic Update

Hey guys, I thought I should give you an update about what's going on Ongoing-WIPs-wise just in case you've had some worries.

The short of it is that the writing juices haven't flowed well for a while now and I'm trying to get them back but it is a struggle. I've worked a bit on this fic or other but haven't made significant progress in a few months. I absolutely hope that will change soon but I unfortunately can't force it. It doesn't help that I'm going through some stuff IRL right now that I have to take care of (I am unfortunately an adult who has to do adulting and pay bills and shit 🥲). I try not to be too stressed out about it, but the more time passes the more the anxiety sets in. Wish me luck. 💪🏻

Anyway, here's a fic-by-fic overview, split up by fandom.

THE UNTAMED

The Angsty SongXue Fic — I'll be honest, I've written a little bit since I last updated you guys but I still haven't finished the buffer chapter (at this point I'm thinking about posting chapter 51 even though 52 isn't done yet), so nothing really new here. I really want to get back into a writing flow but so far it hasn't really worked. I am still working on it, though, so don't worry, I'm not going to drop it.

The It Follows AU — I'm ashamed to say I didn't even realize I posted that fic almost two years ago and I still haven't written the second half. I'm so sorry it's taking so long! I definitely still want to finish it! I might rewatch the It Follows movie before I do that, though.

The Observer Series — Oh yeah, remember that smutfic series I started a few years ago of which I've only posted part 1 so far? Yeah, I still need to work on that. I did write chapter 1 of part 2 a while ago, so it's not like it's forgotten, I just need to get my ass up and write the rest of part 2 before I can post it. 🙈

The Color Rush AU — Okay, technically I haven't posted that one yet but I did share a snippet along with a gifset a few years ago, so you guys know it exists. I haven't worked on it in a long time, though, and I don't know yet when I will find the spoons to continue writing it but I'm still intrigued by the premise and want to give it a go. Thank you for your patience!

The Somewhat Sweet, Somewhat Angsty XuanXian Fic — Again, haven't posted that one yet but I've been posting about it, so you guys know it exists. Nothing new on this front. I did want to rewrite the whole thing because I wasn't really happy with the way I wrote it thus far, so I'll probably go back to it at some point and do that, I just don't know when yet.

WORD OF HONOR

The Xie'er Deserves the World Fic — Listen, guys, I love this fic so much, I just haven't worked on it in a while. I'll probably re-read what I've written so far and go on from there, I've just been struggling with the latest chapter ever since I started writing it years ago. It's not dropped, though, I will get back to it! Pinky swear!

SAILOR MOON

I've mentioned here and there that I'm working on part 1 of an epic that is based on a doujinshi I started when I was 13 or 14. Unlike my other WIPs, this one really is 100% self-indulgent to the point where I don't even care whether people will read/like it once I post it when it's completely done. I'll just put it out there to make my teenage self happy because this story has been simmering in my head for over 20 years, and so that my IRL friends can read it if they want to. So, this one will be a long way out, but it exists. I'm only really mentioning it because I've mentioned it a couple of times before and because it's the fic that's been on my mind the most lately.

STAR WARS

You didn't think I forgot about TROBS, did you????? I did work on several beginnings of a draft during NaNoWriMo last year and I'm getting more and more of a clear picture of how I want it to go. For those unfamiliar, TROBS (or The Rise of Ben Skywalker, though I already changed the name of the fic again) is my attempt at an Episode IX fix-it fic that essentially replaces TROS. This one has been simmering in my head since early 2020 and I really want to get it out of there and onto the page for catharsis. I've even held off on reading any other TROS fix-its because of it, even though I've heard there are some really amazing ones out there (and I can't wait to read them once I've gotten my own out of my damn head). I really need to finally finish that beast. Wish me luck. 🥲

UNPOSTED WIPs

I still have so many notes for other fics (mostly for The Untamed) that I want to write at some point. Will I be able to get them all on the page? I honestly don't know, but I'll see where they take.

Anyway, that's all!

[misscammiedawn]

Charmed! 2023 Recap - (Day 2: Thursday)

Part 1 link

Part 2 (you're here)

Part 3 link

Part 4 link

Part 5 link

As before this is an edited version of my personal therapy journal tailored for public posting. All scene names and stories included are done with permission. - This entry was half written at the con and edited for internet so there will be times where the tensing refers to events in the future and in the past. Apologies for that confusion

I slept from 1:45am-7:30am, my heart raced as the narrative of a scary dream pulled me to wakefulness.

Not the kind of heart racing I was hoping for to begin my day, alas. But the timing was *perfect*. Daja had just at that moment sent a message that she was starting her route. She was less than 5 hours away.

“Come to me.” I softly commanded, extending my presence far across the distance.

My heart ached, my lips could feel the air where they desired her lips.

“I am here, waiting for you. Come to me, my dear.”

And so the countdown begun.

I took a few moments to hug my plushie familiar who goes where I goes and come down from a dream which should not have terrified as much as it did. My boyfriend, Copper, and I were to share a coffee before he went down to the museums.

I had a coffee date! It was time to change!

Charmed! Outfit 1: Sunrise's dress.

Perfect for being plugged into brainwashing devices and reunions with long distance loves ~&lt;3

While I did that my COVID test pinged negative. I grabbed a snapshot.

I maneuvered to add my gender dysphoria protection, my “chicken cutlets” but a somft voice in my head scolded me for the effort. “This is me.” It insisted.

We're going in to the con on our own esteem then? No augmentations? Good to know.

I went to grab my badge and got the 4th one. Nath, one of my metamours, was 2 spaces ahead of me so got a brief hug. Nath is a good friend, though I tend to be shy around my metamours. A little bit of that old programming from a life before keeps insisting that any love I take from a partner is taken away from their other partners and I should feel guilty about that.

Life doesn't work that way. Love doesn't work that way. But the thought persists. That's mine to deal with. I try not to burden other people with my baggage until they ask for it.

There was not enough time to do a full reunion though as Copper and I had our coffee date–

PERSONALLY CATERED BY A PANDA!

A playful and bouncy panda billing itself as "Panda Express" which is both adorable and charming.

It was so lovely! Drip coffee with a smooth flavor that lingers pleasantly!

Happy chats and calm comfort!

There was talk of plans and recounting of the prior night’s fun, including the plane ride. Hair coloring. Hopes and fantasies and the relief of feeling Seen.

I had long awaited my moment to meet with Panda and the Triad that it belonged to. I am overjoyed that it didn't disappoint.

But it had plans, Copper had a trip and there was a convention to begin!

Everyone scattered and I thought about diving into the con--- but perhaps first some weekend prep!

I was too excited to get started and went straight to outfit and mild make-up without a super grooming session. Checked my phone for the temporary GPS of Daja's car. A countdown I could follow for her arrival. She's not here. Not even close. Not yet! I couldn't begin all the fun stuff we had prepared and negotiated. The plane scene was only the start.

I couldn't do the fun stuff, but I could do a ton of ironing to save time for when I was able to enjoy things a bit more!

While I ironed I had a big conversation with my Counterpart Puppet and Sleepyhead. I got emotional about my inconsistencies and volatile personality. Started crying for no gosh darn reason for I am a silly Kitty x.x;

Sad to say this would be the first of a ton of times my emotions caught me off-guard this weekend x.x;

Don't worry, I'm editing the meltdowns out for the public facing recaps! Y'all know where my BPD tag is <3

With ironing done there seemed to be less than an hour until the promised arrival. A morning well spent and a heart full of cheer, I moved on to greet Daja!

The original plan was to do the dommey “come to me!” moment but my heart was too explode with joy so I just glomped. Daja woke up early for me! “You’re the only Sunrise worth waking up for!”

I am squishy melty squee! So so happy!

It was a short-lived reunion as her trance card had other names on the list above mine, but she was sure to show me all the ways I would later be doomed. Mind melting VR headsets and hypnotic orange chocolate. As well as a surprise tool which we may need later.

-

The afternoon was fairly lowkey. I found some familiar faces in Turq and Mazirian in the common area and took some time to discuss simple things like anime and wrestling. I was introduced to some of the more flavorful acts and some of the feats of incredible strength such as picking talent up by their ankles and hammer throwing them like Miss Trunchbull. Made me think about the fact that people picking me up is one of those horseshoe things. Right on the border between ABSOLUTELY NOT red and ...please....? green...

Only one person is allowed to pick me up. I am Excalipurr.

Turq and I have a decent enough relationship as metamours. I share the same shyness with him that I work hard to conquer with Nath and Puppet. It's a shame because Turq and I have a *lot* in common. We can talk about anime/manga and focus on the classics. We enjoy wrestling, Transformers, video games and we both are quite fond of a certain lass.

Maz is someone I have had very limited contact with. We flirt online openly, which is fairly rare for me, but he is firmly in the circle of people I have marked as Trusted. He's vouched for by my Goddess, my girlfriend and is partners with one of the fleeting few connections I had with the hypnosis community in the 2000s. He's fantastic with hairplay and---

--if I may be a little self-obsessed in my self-obsessed journal? ...he makes me feel attractive. His compliments on my hair, the genuine flirting... it makes my gender dysphoria go away. I present myself as an attractive woman a lot, especially in these spaces. I don't know how he does it, but he makes my mind forget that it's something I'm presenting as. It's just something that I am.

It was nice to just enjoy some gentle social energy and try to get added to the trance card of a lovely friend who worked with me briefly at Beguiled. I also finally got to meet Glitter-Spiral who is a very important human that I have evaded meeting for 3 years worth of events.

Glitter-Spiral has not let up on complaining to Daja about the fact that I have been RIGHT THERE for all this time and we keep missing one another. It was nice to finally meet her the energy that she exudes is so bright and forceful. Sassy and flooded with color. I could see instantly why she was scheduled to teach bratting.

As I enjoyed breaking street-date and hugging GS, Turq looked at his phone and audibly responded to the message “She’s sitting right next to me and I can ask for you.” Apparently Daja asked her spouse, Turq, if she could use the room to spend some time with me.

So I rushed upstairs and we worked a little on a couple things.

Firstly, practice for the Presence class. We ran some drills on the Big Moment we had discussed as an endcap to the hypnotist side of the demonstration. Something flashy and showy that I just needed practice with and we discussed blocking for the showy end of the hypnotee segment.

I had run many of these drills over and over with Sleepy but the script was not sticking to my mind and my nerves kept me from embodying my Top Space. I kept telling myself "we'll just read the script and do it live." "Trust that performance will give you the push you need." - another case of that dysfunction where my brain cannot accurately or coherently visualize the future and so lets all that hard work and practice disintegrate.

That used to be a big issue for me when I was a coder, but that's a story for another time.

The reason I mention it is because after running those drills with Daja, I finally felt prepared. I finally think I can teach a class!

Second on the agenda was working on an amnesia suggestion which will come up later and lastly installing a kiss summon trigger– because kiss summon triggers are my thing.

Daja returned the favor by plugging me into a 20 minute custom VR session to add in a few suggestions and gently scrub perception of them away.

During the session Daja installed two suggestions, both of which I shall lose memory of the moment I finish typing, the first is that when I nuzzle her I will drop deeply into trance and the second is a return of the summoning trigger from Beguiled.

(Future Cammie edit!: I now have full memory of this. As part of my therapy I journal daily and this was written on the day. I will make notes in the text when I am typing from after the convention)

There was a point where she heavily reminded me of Goddess’ control and that no hypnosis at all would work without my collar. I was told I reached for my collar and held it as I drank in that suggestion.

The aftercare for the scene progressed and triggers were tested and promptly forgotten once more.

-

From here on I type from after the convention. My memories of the above session remain with me both while working on the journal, for Daja ensured I could always journal reality, no matter what my mind perceived in a hypnotic compulsion (especially if I allowed myself to forget again afterwards) - but more crucially those memories will go with me back to Minnesota.

My hope is that by typing these words they may not fade as far too many tend to.

After the wonderful scene had been completed and sweet Cammie was puddlified and programmed, we agreed that it was a good time for food. My room contained myself, Sleepyhead and Puppet. Daja's room was her and Turq. We agreed that the two rooms should be a bubble for both COVID safety and meal sharing when appropriate.

The original plan was to connect Daja and Cammie rooms so we could just Kramer in to one another’s space all weekend. I feel that may have been a benefit to all had it have happened.

Alas. We had to walk a *whole flight of stairs!* Unacceptable.

Dinner for the night was a local Italian restaurant’s pizza. For Puppet a pasta dish (which required Daja and I to run over to Oikos Prime (remote) and grab cutlery, while saying hello to my Goddess Lady Ru’etha as well as other Oikos household members Jukebox and Copper… as well as sweet Timbit, the most adorable floof in the world) Sleepy got a 14” and for Turq, Daja and I we split a 16”. Sleepyhead had AGDQ on and insisted on showing Turq the AIRBOAT run, a modded Portal run that used Half-Life 2 objects on spawn to proceed through the testing facility instead of the normal portal guns.

The meal was well enjoyed and ended with Turq heading off to mingle and Daja had some more time put aside for scenes with other partners.

I decided that if I were going to get into a headspace less puddlified and a little more casual for the night then perhaps I would need to stop wearing my Sunrise dress, which was typically used for subby bliss scenes, such as the mind melting machine.

But my Dawn outfits were booked out for later in the weekend… so I made a quick change based on my proposed Travel Day outfit:

Charmed Outfit 2: Cozy Camden Winter-wear

For after brains have had time to be melted and one wants to drink coffee and see some familiar faces for no reason beyond socializing.

Socializing, as intended, was not as simple as I had assumed it would be for the majority of the time. In fact I felt quite overwhelmed. I am told that Pre-Pandemic Con Lifestyle involved a lot of group lunches and comfortable hangouts which were more accessible to making connections and melting shy exteriors. As it stood, I had a number of people do the “hey, it’s Cammie!” Moment and I never really worked out how to capitalize on it.

My own fault, really. Shyness is a crippling affectation and I cannot always be a forceful personality capable of running movie theatres or mingling on command.

But all too soon, Daja let me know that her personal jewelry commission from one of our lovely vending friends (whose I will edit in a name for if I get permission) was finished.

The commission was a blue bottle. A blue bottle because of a conversation the two of us had from when the vendors were showing off their wares. 

As I typed on the final day of our last meet-up:

We did clean up. She packed away the summoning trigger and any other things which may have been picked up. I put away the blue fire, which I hadn’t intended to become a trigger, but Daja’s eager and clever brain picked up on it without hesitation. It was placed inside a glass bottle, waiting to be revealed again.

Blue Fire. The gift of perfect obedience. A trigger I had worked with in our last meeting, based on a story from the Tammy Pierce books Daja and I each love. A finger to the forehead. A magical blue fire. Then the enchanted individual would awaken having completed a single command. Whether it be as simple as climb down a tower or something unthinkable.

We had placed the magical blue fire which could melt her mind away inside a blue bottle, a reference in itself to Ocarina of Time.

We had agreed to unbottle the fire and return it on the night of the Soiree and use it to get Daja all nice and dressed up for the event while I offered her “my heart”, knowing she would return it in time. Theoretically it could be used in mingle with another scene we had that weekend, though.

Daja wanted to break street date and get to enjoy the blue flame for the entire weekend. I told her I was willing to go ahead and do that for her, but only if she was certain she wanted it.

Now, Miss Dawn is a Fae. This has been true since the days she was simply an expression of gender euphoria in tabletop scenes and LARP. She was not going to accept a simple “I’m sure” as a method of consent.

“Please, Miss Dawn. Uncork the bottle.”

You must say it of your own volition three times. Uncoerced and unbound by a fractionated mind. Say it three times and I shall uncork the bottle and unleash the spell which effortlessly bewitches your mind and engulfs you in the flame of Pure Obedience. Knowing that once that spell takes hold and melts your mind away there will not be a single thing you will not do for me when I command you under its enchantment.

“Please, Miss Dawn. Uncork the bottle.”

I lowered myself and took her arm and kissed her fiercely. Looked her in the eyes and held her gaze. I reminded her that she would act without any memory of her actions, that she would be giving me complete control of her and doing so without a long thought was simply unwise.

“Please, Miss Dawn. Uncork the bottle.”

Utilizing a previously installed trigger I commanded her to kiss me and enjoyed the moment. My fingers laced around the bottle. If she were to ask me one more time then I would be bound by my Fae Contract to comply and control her.

Was this really? Truly? Deeply desired?

“Please, Miss Dawn…”

I gave her hair a tug and looked her in the eyes.

“Please uncork the bottle.”

As you wish, my love.

What else could a Fae say when bound by a contract? I followed the pre-negotiated scene, which had some lovely amnesia laden suggestions hidden within. Because I am a tricky Fae and if the airplane ride and the MMM scene had not already proven, Daja and I studied for this test and had written a dissertation on how to make these scenes work.

I am also editorializing a little bit because I have a broken brain that doesn’t remember things and imagines things between the gaps.

“Hand me the bottle, my dear.”

And it was at this point, Daja learned that her arms were hanging loose at her side. She couldn’t reach up. She couldn’t unclasp it. If she couldn’t unclasp it she couldn’t hand it to me. If she couldn’t hand it to me, she couldn’t receive my gift of Perfect Obedience.

Daja noted her inability and I teased the chain. “I need you to offer it to me, my dear.”, my honey sweet voice taunting with my knowledge that she simply could not obey.

“Please, Miss Dawn. Please.”

Energy flowed between the pair of us and the Perfect Obedience trigger was tested. A finger to the forehead and Daja’s mind was set ablaze by blue fire. Her eyelids rolled up so beautifully and she would do *anything* I asked.

I am particularly proud of the two times I was able to show it off for an audience.

With the Obedience trigger installed and some more fun had, it was time to prepare for the morning. We were to go to Nath’s class, Daja and Tenn’s and then mine.

In order to go to mine we needed to have me ready to spend the night. So I masked up and rushed back to my room to perform the Walk Of Shame. Which I find lovely and amusing, given Nothing Was Going To Happen. But I got my pyjamas and tomorrow’s outfit and transported them to Daja’s room so I could Spend The Night. <3

I was still a lil’ bit overwhelmed and frazzled and made some silly mistakes like forgetting(?) my Precious. Precious is supposed to go with me and I forgot her!

It’s okay though. Miss had Faithful, Precious’ twin, and let me hug him while I slept…

And curled up with Miss and Faithful… I did sleep.

Part 3 link

[seewetter]

Fact-Checking All I Post Since Dec 12, 2023

Hi.

This is a pinned post that explains my current ideal method of verifying information.

Firstly: I will always state what work I did (or didn't do) to fact-check a post.

This post will be pinned to remind me how to do my due diligence.

What to do to verify information?

Step 0: Notice suspicious aspects of what I'm reblogging

Calls to Action (can cause people to act without thinking first)

False sense of urgency: use of ALL CAPS as if people weren't going to read it otherwise indicates THEY ARE WRITING FOR AN AUDIENCE THAT THEY DON'T EXPECT WILL READ EVERYTHING including the fine print?

Judgemental statements: somebody is describing something by using insults, loaded language.

Factual errors

Jumping to conclusions

Step 1: Read beyond the Headline

If there is embedded articles, did I click through to read it?

How much did I read?

Who is the source? Do I know the source?

If I trust the source: why? What makes them trustworthy?

If I don't usually trust the source but am sharing anyway, why?

Step 2: Find a Credible Source

Did i check the web address (URL) to make sure the website is not impersonating another source?

Find other sources. I read in a magazine once that its recommended to have at least 3 separate sources confirm something. That way there is likely expert consensus and not a rogue editorial board or a compromised source.

Sometimes 3 sources agreeing might mean they are colluding, so the goal here is to document who is saying what and get a picture of where the information is coming from and how it's being shared.

Did I do a cursory check of the Tumblr user sharing the source?

Step 3: Verify Online Source is Authentic

I use startpage.com (a search engine that Google's things for me so Google doesn't know who is googling & thus won't tailor content to me)

As an IT student, I know that when links show up in purple in search engines that is a feature offered by my browser history, not by the search engine. So if I follow a link on Tumblr, then check with Google or Startpage (or Yahoo or Bing or DuckDuckGo), I can see if the website can be found normally through a web search.

I can also use Internet Archive (Wayback Machine) to check older versions of a story. So far, I don't know of any case where the Wayback Machine has deliberately censored or removed information.

Step 4: What else can I do?

read full article of each source

return to the article weeks later to see if corrections have been posted

check the website. Under "Contact" there should be information about the source. Who are they? I can look them up on Wikipedia to see if the source is known to have issues.

Step 5: Offer my followers some info on how they could improve on my work

Articles I haven't fully read can of course be improved by reading the whole thing

Sources can lie.

Read different opposite perspectives (use search engine to look up keywords that might pop up an opposing perspective)

Read primary sources. Did I reblog about a law being passed? Find the official government website where the law is posted.

If a story seems obviously favour one partisan group, then: A basic question for opposing groups or individuals is (A) did they read critiques of themselves (B) do they have a response (C) does their response contain a kernel of truth or is it appealing somehow (can it be steelmanned?) of maybe even they are more right than they seemed and (D) does their response feel sincere? (E) do they have a sense for what might go wrong with their counter-proposal (F) does their response need a better counter-response?

Step 6: Justify sharing things that I half-research.

For example: I shared this because the idea (perhaps mistaken perception / fantasy) of an internet censorship bill scares me.

Reason: My followers get an idea for why I think the information is valuable and can critique me better.

Step 7: Explain: Will I share more on this story or do more research?

In many cases, I reblog things and not think about them any further unless it circulates around and generates more conversation.

As a person with limited financial means and little interest in policy discussions, I want people who read my blog to like...know about (possibly) serious developments, but I'm convinced the main point of reblogging is to increase the statistical chance that it reaches people who are keenly interested and more dedicated than I am to doing something.

That's unfortunate of course (I always worry about how wars and other nightmarish things exit the media cycle even while still ongoing!) but I don't run this blog to be a downer blog and I also don't run it to be discussing topics that only interest me in that I'd like to see people (including myself, when that is feasible) work together to solve them.

Hopefully (if anyone even reads this) people can relate and won't think the worst of me. Not like I'm the best person anyway. Uh, thanks for reading.

[alexcaldownapier]

KEEPER - Lens Tests and Personal Development

Through the early part of this term, I have been trying to get to grips with the new equipment available in my fourth year, develop my overall understanding of cinematography and attempt to find more work in the camera/lighting departments.

During the summer, I spent some time with MTP on set in a work experience/shadowing capacity. This was very interesting, being able to watch a camera and lighting team work on a commercial for a day. I was picking the Gaffer and Cinematographer's brain and observing how the light was being used on this set. One thing I was missing in my lighting knowledge was a bit of clarity on using soft light. In my mind, I had associated the softness of a light with what materials it passed through, instead of the size of the source. I realised I had used the diffusion totally incorrectly on The Play, a short from last year. I was trying to put more layers in front of the light to soften it without widening the beam. For example, I had a light shining through a window which I had skinned with half-white diffusion, but, hadn't allowed the light to fill out the entire window. On Longboard Nights, the last short I shot, I was using primarily hard light which I think matched the mood of the piece, however, I wasn't controlling the bounce correctly. I was wanting high-contrast images and thought hard light would do most of the work for me. However, in a house with white walls, creating high contrast really relies on the minimising of bounce and spill. That set also showed me something I should've used all the way through the shoot of Longboard Nights which was: when trying to shoot night interiors during the day, skinning the windows with blue gels and ND can give a dusky ambience to the room, which can then be accentuated by any planned lighting. While this was a great day that taught me a lot and introduced me to great people, I am kicking myself that I had to turn down a job offer that I got off the back of this, because I was still working hospitality and it was late notice. This is something I'll need to work out the balance of upon graduating: paying the bills while also being available for any career moves.

Wee Alex in the background, on set doing some really impactful interviews for "Don't Say Gay", find the teaser here: https://vimeo.com/885958871

In the first month of term, I spent a few days working as a Grip on two projects - one a documentary, the other a scripted drama short. Again, I was learning a lot about the importance of soft light in an interview setting, but also working with natural light on the drama short, something I have taken into the test shoot for Keeper this term. It was also interesting to see how the cinematographer worked with the director. I really enjoy the way Ben and I work together and I think it opened my eyes to the things we do well (our communication is very clear and the trust is there, I think) and where our methodology for how we tell the story is lacking. This is something we reassessed after the Test Shoot which I will expand on in another post.

Then, with our first few classes this term, I was having a couple refreshers on Lighting, where I could put this developed understanding into practice. We also spent the time learning how to use the Alexa Classic which I then used on the Test Shoot in November.

I have always believed that the cinematography must follow the story instead of having any motivation around beauty or interest. So, the script development phase is the perfect time for me to be developing my overall skills instead of trying to develop the look of the film.

However, once I had a clear idea of what the story involved, I was able to start conversations with Ben about the perspective of the piece. We agreed that the film should be entirely from Will, the protagonist's perspective. In my previous work, the camera's perspective was mainly designed to accentuate emotion - for example, The Play's wide frames and locked off camera accentuated the emotional distance between the characters. But, this approach was an observational one, the audience's emotions are being played as an observer, without a direct association with the psychology of any of the characters. For Keeper, we feel that the only way that the full drama and impact of the story can be felt is if we are with our protagonist throughout, so we can see how much he cares, how hard he works, how his insecurities are brought forward and how hard it hurts when he realises he will never get what he wants. So, as a guiding principle for this film, we will only be seeing Will or what he sees, how he sees it.

With this idea pretty much locked-in, I was able to test the lenses available to me with an eye for how they would impact this idea of perspective. Here are the results (I forgot to export the subtitles which specified the lens but I know, and when we made decisions we knew which we were choosing, just take my word for it). Probably best to watch at 2x speed, it's a bit long...

A close-up on a 24mm, 50mm and 85mm

I knew the frame sizes and views we would most likely be relying on: close-ups on Will, wides of the pitch, mids of Graham at a distance. I found during these tests that for the early parts of the film, I would want to be watching Will in a 24mm as it gives a view wide enough for us to see him and his environment without being so short as to be distracting in it's warping and unconventional rendering of a face. But, as the film progresses and Will becomes increasingly insecure and loses sight of anything but his own performance, we move onto the 85mm via the 50mm. This approach also worked for me with the changing room scenes that sit either side of the training session.

Will sitting in a MCU on a 24mm

In the first changing room scene, we can see some of his team mates' shoulders, his clothes hanging up - we are situated in the space. But then, when he returns, he feels totally alone. This is where we could still go in two directions. One is to come in close, to analyse Will's emotions in this moment and the other is to go wide to feel his isolation and loneliness.

An inspiration still from Win Win (2011)

Another building block of Will's perspective is his watching of Graham, the coach, whose opinion of Will determines his future. I wanted to see Graham in an over the shoulder to better emphasise the perspective and by blocking part of the frame with Will's shoulder, it pushes us in closer to Graham, adding intensity without needing to be tighter in. This I liked most on the 85mm, again, this was due to a balance of environment and subject.

A comparison of Get Out (2017) 's clean single and the dirty single from my tests

Another view I wanted to have was the expanse of the pitch, to see Will looking out at too much for him to handle. I wasn't able to frame up properly during my tests as I had a limited time and I was both operator and stand-in, but I think the 24mm, was again the right choice for this view.

An example of what I wanted to achieve and the result of my test

I edited all the tests together and talked them through with Ben and he agreed with my preferences. Now, we have narrowed our lens choices to the 24mm, the 50mm and the 85mm for the vast majority of the film.

Following on from my previous post where I talked about maybe using a wide shutter angle during the free-kick scene, I also did a test of this at the same time as my lens tests. But, after the test and talking with Ben and Rosie we actually decided to go in the opposite direction and gor for a 90-degree shutter angle for the majority of the film (I took some persuading). We watched the classic example of a 90-degree shutter angle - Saving Private Ryan (1998) - and I found it to not suit our story.

Saving Private Ryan's 90-degree shutter angle sequence

My main issue was the way the shutter angle exacerbated camera shakes, making them stick out far more than at another shutter angle. I felt the film's environment was sterile and controlled, which any camera shake would undermine. However, when Ben and Rosie explained to me how it would better fit Wills emotional state, I came around. Will being hyper-aware and adrenaline fuelled throughout the training session lends itself well to a crisp image, with minimal motion blur, not to mention that audiences are also used to seeing sport shot at higher shutter speeds so it would feel more realistic. On top of this, the idea of sterility and control can be achieved in a multitude of other ways, namely the lighting, production design and lack of handheld camerawork.

Anyways, after these tests, I was in a more informed position to be making some decisions about the look of the film. I had lots of discussions with Ben about the tone which helped me decide on lighting approaches. The realist tone of the film meant that I had to be very motivated with my lighting, making sure it made sense for the world. A lot of the script dictated how I was to light the film which really helped as Ben has such a clear idea of how it needs to feel. One thing that the script specifies is the fact that the session takes place at night, under floodlights. This means that high contrast imagery is necessary for the realism of the space but also contributes well to the intense tone of the story. This also applies to the changing room sequences, where these spaces are almost universally lit top down in real life. Again, this also creates a moody and intense feeling to the lighting, adding shadows to the eyes and neck. This was even something we practiced in class when recreating this shot from Get Out (2017).

A class exercise

Ben and I also had a big brainstorming session about how we could draw out the themes and ideas of the film.

Big scribbles, wee ideas

To expand on these small scribbles, this is how I see us exploring these themes:

The Pressure we feel comes from the stark, high contrast lighting and slowly lengthening lenses throughout the course of the film. As Will feels more pressure, we zoom in, making each action more specific and weighty. Another aspect of this is that the scenes at the football club will be shot at a 90-degree shutter angle to minimise motion-blur, allowing the audience to feel the adrenaline-fueled hyper-awareness of our main character. He can’t miss a thing, so he doesn’t.

The Religion of our main character is football. We want to show how someone can become dependent on a culture and how when this culture is harmful how hard it is to extricate oneself from it. This is primarily communicated through the bedroom scenes that bookend the film, where Will sits in his bedroom that is adorned with football memorabilia. I want to shoot these two scenes in a way that changes the meaning of the room. We begin with a brightly-lit, colourful space with multiple practical lights, shot on wide lenses, letting us soak it all in. But, when we return, the room feels suffocating, shot on longer lenses, compressing the space and it is lit by a single light in the corner, giving it a sad, gloomy feel. 

Pragmatism is an idea implanted in Will by the coach. Instead of feeling that he can take on the world if he tries hard enough, he is left feeling that he is doomed to fail. So where before we would move the camera alongside Will, now we are locked off. His mobility has been cut off.

The Hierarchy between Will and Graham is a simple matter of eyelines. We look up at Graham and, when Will is feeling small, we look down on him.

Most of this went into the final pitch deck (minus of course the jib motion as we realised we didn't have the equipment to pull this off). It also allowed Ben to fully communicate what he wanted to explore with the film. I then wrote down everything I liked in my little scramble document, here's an excerpt:

Scrapbookin

At this point, we needed to focus on our pitch deck and presentation which was a useful exercise not just to practice pitching but also to collate all the research and clearly define the approach to the cinematography. I will post the pitch deck next as a summary of the research I have been doing.