#I don't really know what else to type here.

[amethystarachnid]

BET

⤷ JAMES B. “BUCKY” BARNES

ᯓ★ Pairing: James B. “Bucky” Barnes x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, angst and fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: not requested but taken from MARVEL bingo

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 10k (damn this surprises me too)

ᯓ★ Summary: When Bucky Barnes suddenly starts talking to you you don't think much of it and when he asks you out on a date you couldn't be happier, Bucky truly is everything you could ever want in a man, a man that really loves you...At least that's what you thought until you discovered that it was real all just a bet.

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of virginity and virginity loss, small mentions of a smut scene

ᯓ★ AU: college au

ᯓ★ Request: not requested

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests closed)

ᯓ★ Masterlist

ᯓ★ If you are a Charles Xavier fan click on this link!

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language and this isn’t proof read

The music is loud, pulsing through the walls of the frat house as Bucky sits slouched on a couch, one arm draped lazily over the back. The night is already wearing on him, but he knows he’s going to be here until Sam and Steve call it a night, which—based on the collection of red solo cups by their feet—might be a while.

They’re all trading stories from the semester, voices buzzing with that blend of laughter and cheap beer. Sam is in the middle of recounting his latest dare when he nudges Bucky’s arm, catching his attention.

“Bet you couldn’t last a month with someone like her,” Sam says, nodding toward the corner of the room.

Bucky glances up, following Sam’s gaze until he spots you. You’re perched near the bookshelf, alone and fidgeting with your drink as you flip through a book someone left behind. He’s seen you around campus before, usually with your nose buried in a novel or surrounded by a pile of textbooks. There’s something unassuming about you, something quiet and untouchable. His friends know he’s more the type to go for a party girl—someone loud, someone who doesn’t ask too many questions.

“What, the bookworm?” Bucky scoffs, raising an eyebrow. But his friends don’t let up, and soon Steve and Sam are egging him on.

“You’re always chasing the same type,” Steve chimes in. “What are you afraid of, that she’d actually challenge you?”

Bucky laughs, rolling his eyes. He knows he should shut it down, but their teasing digs at him, scratching at that competitive edge that’s always lurking just beneath his smirk.

“All right,” Bucky finally says, shrugging. “I’ll do it. One month.”

His friends exchange knowing grins, slapping him on the back. But as soon as the words leave his mouth, Bucky feels a strange knot settle low in his stomach—a feeling he’s not used to. He brushes it off. It’s just a game, a challenge. It’s not like he’s actually going to care.

The next day, you’re tucked into your usual corner in the library, surrounded by a fortress of books. You barely notice him when he walks up, leaning against the edge of the table with a casual confidence that doesn’t match the usual quiet of the space.

“Mind if I join you?” His voice is smooth, low enough that you almost have to lean in to hear him clearly.

You glance up, surprised to see Bucky Barnes standing there, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You’ve seen him around campus—he’s hard to miss with that leather jacket and effortlessly messy hair, the type of guy who always has someone laughing beside him.

“Sure,” you murmur, unsure of what else to say as you move your books aside, offering him a seat. You’re used to people mostly ignoring you here. It’s your refuge, your sanctuary. So when he sits across from you, stretching out as if he belongs there, it feels jarringly out of place.

“You look like you’re buried in work,” he observes, nodding at the mountain of papers in front of you. “What’s got you so busy?”

You hesitate, but something in his easygoing manner convinces you to answer. “Just…assignments. Trying to keep up with everything.” You give him a small smile, your guard still up but feeling oddly curious.

“What’s your major?” he asks, and the question catches you off guard. Most people don’t bother to ask; they assume or don’t care enough to wonder. He listens as you talk about your studies, nodding, asking small questions. Before you know it, you’re telling him more than you intended, falling into an easy rhythm that surprises you.

It becomes a pattern. Over the next few weeks, he finds reasons to run into you—at the coffee shop, in the library, even in the quad between classes. Each time, he stays a little longer, asks a little more, his eyes holding yours with that subtle intensity he wears so well. At first, you’re wary, cautious of his attention. But Bucky is good, easing his way in like he has all the time in the world, his jokes and questions slowly weaving a thread of trust between you two.

And Bucky? He’s surprised at how much he finds himself drawn to you. Each time you laugh, he catches himself watching, feeling something strange and warm unfurl in his chest. There’s a gentleness in you, a quiet intelligence, that keeps him coming back even as he reminds himself this isn’t supposed to mean anything.

But the longer he spends time with you, the more he feels the weight of what he agreed to, creeping up on him every time he catches your smile, every time you look at him like he’s someone worth knowing.

He tells himself it’s just part of the bet. But deep down, he knows he’s starting to cross a line he never meant to touch.

It’s been a few weeks since Bucky started spending time with you, and against every reminder he gives himself, he’s found himself looking forward to it more than he wants to admit. He tells himself it’s harmless—he’s just getting to know you, just finding ways to pass the time. But he knows he’s lying, especially when he starts finding excuses to see you outside of the library or when he catches himself glancing at his phone, hoping for a text from you.

One night, back at the frat house, he’s lounging with Sam and Steve again, half-listening to their conversation when Sam nudges him.

“So, Barnes. How’s it going with the bookworm?” Sam asks with a knowing smirk. Bucky rolls his eyes, trying to brush it off, but Sam isn’t so easily deterred. “Don’t tell me you’re catching feelings.”

Bucky scoffs, forcing a laugh to keep the truth buried. “It’s going fine. Like I said, a month’s no problem.”

Sam exchanges a glance with Steve, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Let’s make this interesting then. If you really want to win this thing, you’ve got to take it further.”

Bucky’s jaw clenches. “Further?” He has a bad feeling about where this is going.

Steve raises his eyebrows. “Come on, Buck. You’ve been hanging out with her, sure, but we’re talking about actually making her fall for you. Ask her out, and, you know—” He raises an eyebrow meaningfully.

“Sleep with her,” Sam adds bluntly, laughing. “Seal the deal, and there’s two hundred bucks in it for you.”

Bucky hesitates, that uncomfortable knot tightening in his stomach again. He tells himself it’s just a stupid bet. He’s done things like this before—gotten close to people just to prove he could, had plenty of meaningless hookups that never meant a thing. He’s Bucky Barnes, the guy who doesn’t do commitment or complications. But for some reason, picturing it with you makes him feel…off.

“Fine,” he says after a beat, his voice steady, betraying nothing of the uncertainty he’s trying to ignore. “Two hundred bucks. Done.”

The next day, he texts you, his fingers hovering over the keys a little too long before he finally sends, Hey, you free Friday? Let me take you out somewhere nice.

When you see his message, your heart skips a beat. It’s been a while since anyone has asked you on an actual date, and even longer since you’ve felt genuinely excited about someone. Bucky’s been different from the start—warm, attentive, and surprisingly easy to talk to. You’ve caught yourself looking forward to his company, replaying the moments he laughs at one of your jokes or leans in close enough for you to catch a hint of his cologne.

After a second, you type back, Yeah, I’d love to! You add a smiley face, feeling almost giddy as you press send.

The days leading up to Friday drag by, each one marked with bursts of nerves and anticipation. You spend a little more time getting ready than usual, finally deciding on a simple but pretty dress that makes you feel confident. When Bucky picks you up, his usual leather jacket replaced with a dark button-up, you feel a thrill of excitement. He looks genuinely happy to see you, his eyes scanning over you appreciatively as he gives you a lopsided grin.

“You look amazing,” he says, his gaze warm. There’s something softer in his eyes, something that makes you blush.

“Thanks,” you mumble, smiling as you walk beside him. He leads you to a small Italian place tucked away from campus, the kind of cozy, dimly lit restaurant you wouldn’t have expected him to know about. The conversation flows easily between you two, laughter spilling out as you talk about classes, hometowns, and childhood memories.

The night feels magical, almost surreal, and you start to wonder if maybe, just maybe, there’s something real here. Every time his hand brushes against yours, a spark shoots up your spine. And when he reaches across the table, fingers lightly grazing your wrist as he laughs at something you said, your heart flutters in a way that’s both thrilling and terrifying.

After dinner, he suggests taking a walk, and soon you’re strolling through the quiet streets, the chill of the night air making you shiver just slightly. Without a word, Bucky slips his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. It feels so natural, like you belong there.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been on a date this nice,” you admit, smiling up at him, your voice soft.

He chuckles, though it sounds slightly strained. “Really? I find that hard to believe.”

You shrug, trying to brush it off. “I guess I’ve just never…met anyone like you before.”

There’s a flash of something in his eyes—guilt, maybe, or regret. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced with that charming grin. He steps closer, his arm slipping from your shoulders, and you hold your breath as he cups your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

“You’re pretty amazing, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice low.

You feel like the world has stopped, your heart pounding in your chest. This is the moment you’ve been dreaming of, the moment where everything finally falls into place.

But for Bucky, something sharp and painful twists inside him. He can feel the weight of what he’s doing pressing down on him, can see the way your eyes look at him with such unguarded trust, and it’s enough to make his stomach turn. He’s never felt guilty over a stupid bet before, but right now, the idea of hurting you feels unbearable.

“Hey,” he says softly, his hand still on your cheek. “You trust me, right?”

Your eyes widen, and you nod slowly, too caught up in the moment to notice the tension in his gaze. “Yeah,” you whisper, a small smile forming on your lips.

He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours as he takes a steadying breath. “Good,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. Because if he’s going to go through with this, he tells himself he has to believe that none of it matters—that he won’t let himself care. But even as he kisses you, his lips soft and warm against yours, he knows he’s lying to himself.

The days after that first date drift into a series of moments that feel surreal, almost like they’re happening to someone else. You find yourself checking your phone at odd times, waiting for his texts, smiling down at your screen whenever his name lights up. Bucky is a part of your routine now, and it feels strange, thrilling even, like there’s this magnetic force that draws you to him despite every bit of caution you try to hold onto.

Every time you’re with him, the outside world fades. He makes you laugh with stories about his friends, leaning in close, his voice warm and low as if he’s sharing some secret just for you. You catch yourself stealing glances when he’s not looking—at the way his jaw clenches when he’s lost in thought or how his eyes soften when he looks at you, a mix of curiosity and something you can’t quite name.

It’s after one of your study sessions at the library that Bucky invites you over to his dorm room for the first time. He tells you he’s got some old movies you’ve probably never seen, and, honestly, he’s right—you’d never pictured Bucky as the type to own black-and-white classics, but that’s exactly what he has, a surprisingly large collection lined up on a low shelf near his TV. He insists you pick one, and soon you’re sitting side by side on his couch, your legs tucked up beneath you, feeling almost shy in the soft glow of the screen.

The movie starts, but his arm stretches along the back of the couch, barely brushing your shoulders. The faintest touch sends electricity through you, but you stay quiet, not wanting to ruin the moment. Then, halfway through the movie, he shifts, glancing at you.

“You can get closer, you know,” he murmurs, his eyes glinting with something mischievous yet gentle.

Your heart flutters as you scoot closer, until you’re tucked into his side, his arm draped around you in a way that feels possessive yet comforting. He smells faintly like cedar and something distinctly him, a scent that’s becoming familiar. Before you know it, your head is resting on his shoulder, his hand absently tracing patterns on your arm, and you feel like you could stay there forever.

Time slips by in a collection of small, perfect moments. There are more dates—little coffee shops tucked away from campus, a bookstore where he buys you a copy of a novel you mentioned in passing, a late-night diner where you both end up after laughing so hard that you can’t breathe. You never expected him to be so attentive, so eager to listen to your stories and learn every detail about your life. He even surprises you with your favorite snack on study nights, tossing it to you with a grin before leaning in close to steal a bite for himself.

One evening, after a long day of classes and a surprise text from Bucky inviting you over, you find yourself curled up on his couch once again. This time, he’s stretched out beside you, one arm tucked under his head while the other rests around your shoulders. His fingers brush against your arm absently, and you can’t help but notice how natural this feels. It’s terrifying, too, the way he seems to melt into your life so effortlessly, as if he’s always been there.

You glance up at him, catching him mid-laugh as he recounts an embarrassing story about Sam, who apparently tried to show off on a skateboard and ended up with a sprained ankle.

“You’re terrible,” you tease, nudging him with your shoulder, though you’re laughing too.

“Oh, come on. It was hilarious,” he insists, grinning down at you. He tilts his head, his gaze dropping to your lips for just a second, and your laughter fades as something shifts between you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask softly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He shrugs, the corner of his mouth twitching in a faint smile. “I just…can’t believe you’re real sometimes.”

The words catch you off guard, and for a moment, you’re too stunned to reply. But then he leans down, his lips brushing yours with a tenderness that makes your chest ache. The kiss deepens slowly, each touch feeling like a promise, and you lose yourself in the warmth of his embrace, forgetting every doubt, every insecurity that ever kept you guarded.

As the weeks pass, you find yourself falling harder than you ever expected. Bucky seems to find every crack in your armor, every scar and hidden fear, and instead of pulling away, he draws closer, listening to your stories and letting you into his own in ways that leave you breathless. He’s there to listen on your tough days, wrapping his arms around you and murmuring words of reassurance. He’s there on your good days, too, laughing with you, pressing kisses to your forehead as if he can’t believe his luck.

One night, you’re back on his couch, cuddled up under a thick blanket as a storm rages outside, the rain tapping against the windows. You’re nestled against him, his arm holding you close, and he’s quiet, his fingers tracing patterns along your shoulder absentmindedly.

“Bucky?” you ask, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Hmm?” he murmurs, his gaze dropping to yours, his eyes soft and warm in the dim light.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. “For everything.”

He frowns slightly, shifting so he can look at you fully. “You don’t have to thank me for that,” he says, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Being with you…it’s the easiest thing in the world.”

You smile, warmth spreading through your chest, and he kisses you again, slow and soft, like he’s savoring every second. It’s moments like this that make you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re finally safe with someone, that this is something real.

But for Bucky, each moment with you is a double-edged sword. He’s never felt this way before—this calm, this…connected. Every time you laugh at one of his jokes or lean against him, trusting and unguarded, he feels that awful twist of guilt, the memory of that stupid bet lurking in the back of his mind.

He’s supposed to ask for more. That’s what Sam and Steve were expecting, weren’t they? They wanted him to win the bet, to seal the deal and prove he could pull this off. But every time he thinks about going further, about pushing this relationship into a place where he can’t turn back, he feels that nagging ache, that quiet, gnawing feeling that he’s crossing a line he can’t uncross.

He knows he needs to tell you. He needs to come clean, but every time he opens his mouth, the words get stuck in his throat. You look at him with those bright, trusting eyes, and he can’t bring himself to shatter the way you see him. So he holds his silence, hoping that somehow, he can bury the truth forever, that maybe you’ll never have to know.

One evening, as you’re lying together on his couch, you let out a contented sigh, resting your head on his chest as his hand traces lazy patterns along your back.

“Bucky?” you whisper, your voice soft.

He glances down at you, his fingers pausing as he meets your gaze. “Yeah?”

You hesitate, then take a steadying breath. “I…I think I’m falling for you.”

The words hang in the air, vulnerable and open, and for a second, his face goes still, his eyes widening just slightly. Then, his expression softens, and he tightens his arms around you, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. But as he kisses you, the warmth of his touch hiding the flicker of guilt behind his eyes, a single thought haunts him.

She deserves the truth.

That night, Bucky barely sleeps, lying awake with the knowledge that he’s in far too deep to ever come out of this unscathed. Every soft breath you take beside him reminds him of how much he’s risking by staying silent. He knows he has to tell you, but he’s terrified—terrified that this fragile, beautiful thing you’ve built together will shatter, that you’ll look at him with betrayal instead of trust.

In the morning, he makes a decision. He’ll find a way to tell you, he promises himself, but he wants one more day, one more memory before he risks everything. Just one last perfect day where he can pretend that none of it was ever a lie.

So he takes you out, leading you down to the pier just as the sun begins to set, casting the sky in hues of pink and gold. You laugh, leaning into him, and he wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur, watching the waves lap against the shore.

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice soft. “It is.”

But as he stands there, holding you close, he knows that the beauty of this moment is fleeting, that the truth waiting in his chest is too big to ignore. And tonight, when he finally gathers the courage to tell you, he knows there’s a chance he’ll lose you forever. But for now, he lets himself savor this last quiet moment, memorizing the feeling of you in his arms, the warmth of your laughter as it fills the air.

For now, he holds onto the hope that maybe, somehow, you’ll understand.

The sunset fades, leaving the world painted in muted purples and blues, but neither of you seem ready to break away from each other. Bucky holds you close, feeling the steady rhythm of your breath against his chest as if it’s his own. He knows he should say something—that he needs to say something—but the words seem so impossible now, tangled up in his chest. The truth would ruin this moment, shatter whatever he’s built with you. And so, he tells himself it can wait just a little longer.

As the evening slips into night, Bucky leads you back to his dorm room, his hand intertwined with yours. You can feel the heat of his palm, the way his fingers wrap around yours as if he never wants to let go. The air feels charged, every touch electric, each shared glance simmering with something that feels fragile and exhilarating. Neither of you says much, as though speaking would break the quiet spell between you.

Once you’re inside, Bucky hesitates. He turns to you, his expression vulnerable, softer than you’ve ever seen it. "You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand.

“I want to,” you say, the words escaping before you can even think. There’s no hesitation in your voice, only a gentle certainty that makes his chest tighten. The way you look at him, so open and trusting, makes his heart ache with a mix of guilt and longing.

Bucky’s eyes search yours, lingering for a moment that stretches into forever. He reaches up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before his fingers trail down to your jaw, cradling your face as if you’re something fragile and precious. Slowly, he leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s softer than any before. It’s unhurried, tender, as if he’s savoring every second.

The kiss deepens, and you can feel yourself melting into him, your heart pounding so hard you think it might burst. His hands move to your waist, steady and grounding, and he pulls you closer until there’s no space left between you. You can feel the strength of him, the warmth radiating through his clothes, and it makes your head spin.

Before long, you find yourselves tangled together on his bed, the world outside fading into nothingness. Each kiss is deeper than the last, each touch laced with a longing neither of you can deny. There’s a gentleness to Bucky’s movements, a quiet patience as he explores the curve of your shoulder, the softness of your waist, as if he’s memorizing every inch of you. He’s slow and careful, constantly looking at you as if to make sure this is what you want.

“Are you okay?” he whispers, his voice rough with barely-contained emotion.

You nod, feeling breathless but certain. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

His eyes darken, filled with a tenderness that makes your chest ache, and then he’s kissing you again, deeper this time, his hands skimming over your skin with a reverence that leaves you feeling cherished. You lose track of time, surrendering to the way he makes you feel—safe, wanted, like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

When you finally fall back against the bed, your bodies wrapped around each other, you’re exhausted yet filled with a warmth that feels all-encompassing. The reality of what just happened settles in, but instead of feeling nervous, you feel at peace, secure in the quiet intimacy that has grown between you.

Bucky shifts beside you, pulling you closer until your head rests against his chest, his arm draped protectively around your shoulders. The steady thump of his heartbeat lulls you into a peaceful daze, and you feel his fingers trace small circles on your back, soothing and grounding.

You’re both quiet for a long time, the silence comfortable as you bask in each other’s presence. Eventually, though, you feel a need to tell him something you’ve been holding back, something you hadn’t planned on revealing but that feels right to share in this moment.

“Bucky,” you begin softly, lifting your head to look at him. He gazes down at you, his eyes warm and attentive, as if you’re the only thing he sees. “I…I want you to know that this was my first time.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re afraid he’ll pull away, that he’ll think you were too inexperienced or that you should have told him sooner. But he doesn’t flinch or hesitate. His hand moves up to gently cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin.

“Your first?” he echoes, his voice filled with a mixture of surprise and something that sounds almost like reverence.

You nod, feeling your cheeks heat as you look down, suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah…I wanted it to be with someone who made me feel safe. Someone I trusted.”

Bucky’s chest rises and falls slowly as he takes this in, his expression softening. He seems almost humbled, like he’s just been given something rare and delicate. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead before resting his own against yours.

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. There’s a vulnerability in his gaze, as if he’s holding back a hundred things he wants to say but can’t find the words for.

You smile, the last traces of your nervousness melting away. “Thank you, Bucky…for making it so special.”

He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you like he’s afraid to let you go. “I’d do anything to make you feel special,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

You nestle into his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling safe and cherished in a way you never have before. And as you lie there, drifting between sleep and wakefulness, you wonder if this is what it feels like to be truly, deeply in love.

But as you fall asleep in his arms, Bucky lies awake, his heart heavy with the weight of everything he’s kept from you. He knows he should be content, that he should just let himself savor this night and the closeness you’ve shared. But the memory of that stupid, careless bet gnaws at him, a dark cloud looming over everything.

He runs a hand through his hair, staring up at the ceiling, feeling torn between the desire to protect you from the truth and the fear that he’s already crossed a line he can’t uncross. The realization that you trusted him enough to give him something so deeply personal makes the weight of his lie even heavier, almost unbearable. He swallows hard, tightening his hold on you as he resolves to tell you the truth—soon, somehow, even if it means risking everything.

But tonight, he lets himself stay silent. He closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of your hair, the warmth of your body against his, and allows himself to believe, if only for a moment, that this can last.

The morning sunlight filters softly through the blinds, casting warm, golden patterns across the bed. You stir beside him, your movements gentle as you wake up, and Bucky watches you with a quiet awe, his heart racing as he takes in the peaceful expression on your face. For a moment, it feels like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

You blink up at him, your face lighting up with a sleepy smile that makes his chest tighten.

“Good morning,” you murmur, your voice soft and a little shy, as if the night is still too fresh, too beautiful to fully believe.

He grins, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Morning,” he replies, his voice low and warm. His fingers trail down to your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, and you squeeze back, a shared moment of silent understanding passing between you.

The morning stretches on in a gentle haze of quiet touches and soft words. Bucky makes you coffee, insisting you stay curled up under his blanket while he brings it over to you, and you laugh, watching him with a mix of affection and disbelief. This side of him—the playful, thoughtful side—is something you never expected to see, and it makes you fall for him even harder.

You’re both lounging on his bed, your legs tangled together, talking in low voices about everything and nothing. He tells you stories about his childhood, tales about him and Steve getting into trouble, and you share your own memories, laughing as he reacts with wide eyes and exaggerated shock.

It feels so real, so natural, that you almost forget about everything outside this room, about the possibility that this could be something fleeting. You feel like you’ve found a place that’s safe, a person who makes you feel more like yourself than you ever have before.

But in the quiet moments, when you catch him staring at you with that far-off look, you wonder if there’s something he’s not telling you, a hesitation lurking behind his gaze. You don’t press, not wanting to shatter the peace between you. But part of you wonders if you’re seeing a glimpse of something deeper, something you’re not yet ready to confront.

As you leave his dorm room later that morning, he kisses you softly, lingering as if he’s trying to memorize the taste of your lips, the feel of your hand in his. There’s an unspoken promise in his touch, a silent assurance that this isn’t the end.

Later that afternoon, you make your way back to the frat house, humming softly as you climb the steps to Bucky's door. You left your notebook there, a little blue book you’re pretty sure you’ll need for your upcoming assignment. You barely slept last night, too caught up in the warmth of his touch, the memory of his whispered words that lingered long after you left his dorm this morning. You’re nervous, too; you feel so much for him that it scares you.

As you approach his room, laughter drifts out into the hallway, low voices filtering through the partially open door. You recognize Bucky’s laugh, the familiar sound stirring warmth in your chest, but the laughter feels different, carefree and loud. And then you hear a familiar voice—Sam’s—cutting through, low and joking.

"Guess she fell for it pretty hard, huh?" Sam’s voice sounds amused, lighthearted, as if he’s talking about something trivial.

You freeze, your hand hovering inches from the door. Something about his tone makes you hesitate, a strange, unsettling feeling creeping into your chest.

"Come on, Bucky," Sam presses, “don’t act all innocent now. I saw you this morning, looking like you just won the lottery.” You can hear the grin in his voice, a laugh bubbling beneath it. “So? How was it?”

Bucky laughs, the sound uncomfortable, but he doesn’t argue. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, his voice casual, light. “It was… good.”

You feel a stab in your chest, a faint panic that tells you to leave, to walk away before you hear any more. But your feet don’t move, and you find yourself listening, every word driving another splinter into your heart.

Steve’s voice joins in, chuckling. “Well, you earned it, man. She had no clue, huh?”

“No clue,” Bucky murmurs, his voice softer now, almost unreadable. You can picture him there, maybe rubbing the back of his neck the way he does when he’s nervous. But the words are there, undeniable.

Sam laughs again, louder this time. “And hey, bet’s a bet,” he says, and then there’s a pause before you hear the unmistakable rustling of bills being exchanged. “Two hundred dollars, as promised. Can’t say you didn’t earn it, though—you even managed to get her into bed. Didn’t think you had it in you, but here we are!”

Your vision blurs, the words echoing in your mind, distorting into something raw and jagged. Every affectionate touch, every gentle kiss, every whispered promise from the past few weeks twists into something ugly, something unrecognizable. You feel sick, the image of Bucky’s earnest smile, his soft words about wanting to make you feel special, tainted beyond repair. Everything you felt for him, the trust you’d handed him so freely, crumbles beneath the weight of their laughter.

Slowly, you turn and leave, gripping the strap of your bag tightly as you make your way out of the frat house. You don’t let yourself cry, not yet, not when you still feel the echo of his betrayal throbbing in your chest, too raw, too painful to acknowledge fully.

Hours later, you’re back in your dorm room, your heart aching as you sit in silence, the truth settling over you in waves. Part of you wants to believe it was a misunderstanding, that maybe there’s an explanation you’re missing. But the memory of their laughter, the casual way Sam handed him that money, makes the truth impossible to ignore.

A knock on your door interrupts your thoughts, and your heart skips a beat as you hear Bucky’s voice calling your name softly from the hallway. It’s just him now, his voice hesitant, almost as if he senses that something’s wrong. You take a steadying breath, steeling yourself before you answer the door.

When you open it, Bucky’s eyes light up, and he steps forward, a soft smile on his face as he reaches for your hand. “Hey, you,” he murmurs, his voice warm. But when he sees the look on your face, he pauses, his smile fading. “What’s wrong?”

For a moment, you can’t bring yourself to speak. You can only look at him, trying to reconcile the gentle, caring person you thought you knew with the man who took a bet to seduce you. You pull your hand away from his, ignoring the confusion in his gaze as he watches you.

“Were you even going to tell me?” Your voice comes out quieter than you intended, a dull ache threading through every word. “Or were you just going to take the money and pretend it never happened?”

Bucky blinks, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Tell you what? I—I don’t understand.”

A bitter laugh escapes your lips, and you look away, wrapping your arms around yourself as if it’ll keep you from falling apart. “Don’t play dumb, Bucky. I heard you. I was at the frat house earlier, and I heard everything.”

He freezes, his face going pale, and you see the truth in his eyes, clear as day. He opens his mouth, stumbling over his words. “Y/N, I—I didn’t… I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”

The admission twists the knife deeper, and you feel yourself trembling as you look back at him, tears stinging your eyes. “So, it’s true, then? All of it? This whole… this whole thing was just for some stupid bet?”

He reaches for you, his expression desperate, his hands hovering just inches from your arms. “Y/N, please. Just let me explain. It wasn’t like that, I swear. It started that way, but then… then it became real. I fell for you, okay? Everything we did, everything we shared—it was real.”

You shake your head, pulling away from him, the anger and betrayal simmering beneath the surface. “Real? You think that makes this okay? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Your voice breaks, and a tear slips down your cheek before you can stop it. “I trusted you, Bucky. I thought… I thought you cared about me.”

His face crumples, and he takes a step closer, his hand reaching out as if to wipe away the tear on your cheek. “I do care about you. More than anything, Y/N. That’s why I wanted to tell you, I just—”

“Wanted to tell me?” you interrupt, your voice shaking. “When, Bucky? After you cashed in your winnings? After I found out on my own?”

The silence stretches between you, heavy and unbearable, and Bucky’s shoulders sag as he looks away, guilt etched deeply into his face.

“Do you even realize how humiliating this is?” you continue, your voice a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “I trusted you with something… something I’d never given anyone. And the whole time, it was just part of a game to you.”

His eyes snap back to yours, filled with anguish, his voice barely a whisper. “It was never just a game, not after the first night. I swear, Y/N, I was going to tell you everything. I just… I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You didn’t want to lose me?” you repeat, laughing bitterly. “You lost me the moment you made that bet. You had no right to… to play with me like that, to make me believe that any of it was real.”

He looks at you, his blue eyes full of desperation, his voice breaking. “Y/N, please. I know I messed up. I know I hurt you, but I need you to believe me when I say I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“Just stop,” you whisper, the weight of it all crashing over you. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to make me feel sorry for you when you’re the one who lied.”

Bucky’s face falls, and he drops his gaze, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I know. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But please, just… give me a chance to make it right.”

Your heart aches, torn between the memories of every gentle touch, every whispered word, and the undeniable truth of his betrayal. Part of you wants to believe him, wants to believe that somewhere in all of this, there was something real. But the pain is too deep, the wound too fresh, and you don’t know if you can ever look at him the same way again.

“I can’t do this,” you say, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I can’t just forget what you did. You hurt me, Bucky. And right now, I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

He flinches, as if your words physically hurt him, and he nods slowly, a look of resignation in his eyes. “I understand. I’ll… I’ll leave, if that’s what you want.”

You nod, wrapping your arms around yourself as he takes a step back, his gaze lingering on you one last time before he turns and walks toward the door. Just as he reaches it, he pauses, his hand resting on the doorknob as he glances back at you, his voice soft, broken.

“For what it’s worth, Y/N… I love you. I know I don’t deserve to say that, but it’s the truth.”

You don’t reply, staring at him with tear-filled eyes as he finally steps out of your dorm, the door closing softly behind him. The silence that follows is deafening, and you sink to the floor, the weight of everything crashing down as you realize that the person you thought you loved never truly existed.

The days blur together in a haze of heartbreak and emptiness. You go through the motions, attending classes, completing assignments, and showing up to study groups, but it all feels mechanical, like you’re on autopilot. It’s as if something inside you has shut down, leaving only an echo of who you were before you met him, before he became the center of your world.

It doesn’t take long for your friends to notice the change. They ask if you’re okay, if something happened, if maybe you just need a break. But you give them the same answer each time—a nod, a small smile, and an assurance that you’re just tired. It’s easier than explaining the mess of emotions tangled inside you, the hurt that seems too big to fit into words.

Late at night, lying alone in your dorm room, you can still feel the warmth of his arms around you, the softness of his voice in the quiet hours when he’d whisper promises you thought would last forever. The memory feels cruel now, tainted by the knowledge that it was all built on a lie. And yet, despite everything, you miss him. You hate yourself for it, but you miss the way he looked at you, the way he made you feel safe, special, as if you were the only person in the world who mattered.

Bucky isn’t doing any better. In fact, he’s a mess. Days have passed, but the guilt, the emptiness—it lingers, gnawing at him, refusing to let him move on. He can barely sleep, haunted by the look in your eyes, the betrayal, the hurt he put there. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees you, hears the way your voice cracked when you told him you didn’t know who he was anymore. And the worst part is, he doesn’t blame you. He knows he did this, that he ruined everything, and now he has to live with the consequences.

Sam and Steve notice almost immediately. Bucky, the confident, charming guy they’d known for years, looks hollow, as if he’s carrying a weight he can’t shake. He barely speaks, keeps to himself, and they rarely see him at the frat house anymore. Instead, he spends most of his time shut up in his dorm, a shadow of the person he used to be.

One evening, as the sun dips below the horizon, Sam and Steve exchange a glance, silently agreeing that they need to intervene. They knock on his door, and when he doesn’t answer, Sam pushes it open, finding him lying on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Hey, man,” Sam says, stepping inside. Steve follows, closing the door behind them as they both approach Bucky’s bed.

Bucky doesn’t react right away, his gaze still fixed on the ceiling. But eventually, he sits up, running a hand through his hair, looking exhausted and defeated.

“What’s up, guys?” he mumbles, though his voice lacks any real curiosity.

“We should be asking you that,” Steve says, his tone softer than usual. “You haven’t been yourself lately. Ever since things ended with Y/N, it’s like… you’re a completely different person.”

At the sound of your name, Bucky’s face falls, and he lets out a long, shaky breath. “Yeah,” he says quietly, almost to himself. “That’s because I am.”

Sam frowns, studying Bucky’s expression, the guilt etched into every line of his face. “Look, man, we didn’t mean for things to get this serious. But if you cared about her, really cared… why didn’t you just tell her the truth from the start?”

Bucky shakes his head, his hands gripping the edge of the bed so tightly his knuckles turn white. “I don’t know,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I was scared, I guess. I knew I’d screwed up, and every time I tried to tell her, I just… couldn’t. I thought I could fix things, somehow, make it up to her without her ever finding out.” He lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Stupid, right?”

Steve sighs, sitting beside him on the bed. “Not stupid, just… a mistake. A big one, yeah, but you’re not the first guy to mess up. You’re just… Bucky, this isn’t like you. I’ve never seen you like this over anyone before.”

Bucky looks away, a sad smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That’s because I’ve never felt this way before. Not like this. I love her, Steve. And I threw it all away over some stupid bet that meant nothing. I hurt her in ways I can’t even fix.”

Sam places a hand on his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “So what are you gonna do about it? You can’t just sit here, wallowing. If she meant that much to you, then maybe you owe it to her—and to yourself—to try and make it right.”

Bucky laughs, but it’s empty, hollow. “And how am I supposed to do that, Sam? She told me herself she doesn’t know who I am. She doesn’t trust me. I don’t deserve another chance.”

Steve exchanges a look with Sam, and then he says, “Maybe. But you can’t just give up without trying. If you really love her, Bucky, you have to prove it. Show her that you’re not just the guy who hurt her, that you’re willing to fight for her. And if she doesn’t take you back… at least you’ll know you tried.”

Bucky sighs, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stares at the floor. “I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me. I don’t even know if I deserve it.”

Sam crosses his arms, his expression softening. “Look, man, I get that you’re hurting. But don’t you think she’s hurting, too? She’s probably out there feeling just as broken, wondering if anything between you was ever real.”

Bucky swallows hard, his chest tightening at the thought. He knows you’re hurting, knows you trusted him with something precious, something he didn’t deserve. And knowing that he’s the reason for your pain… it’s a feeling he wouldn’t wish on anyone.

Over the next few days, Bucky wrestles with himself, caught between the fear of making things worse and the desire to show you that he’s truly sorry, that he wants to be the man you thought he was. He writes and rewrites texts he never sends, shows up outside your dorm but never works up the courage to knock. He’s terrified, but he can’t ignore the way his heart aches for you, the empty, gnawing feeling that only seems to grow with each passing day.

Finally, he decides to try one last time. He doesn’t know if you’ll listen, doesn’t know if you’ll even give him a chance. But he has to try—to give you the truth, no matter how painful it might be.

And so, as the evening sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over campus, Bucky finds himself standing outside your dorm, his heart pounding as he gathers the courage to knock. He knows this is his last chance, that this is the moment that will decide everything. And he only hopes, as he takes a deep breath and raises his hand to the door, that you’ll give him the chance to show you that he’s not the man who hurt you—that he’s ready to fight for you, no matter what it takes.

The knock on your door is soft, almost hesitant, but it’s enough to pull you from your thoughts. You’ve been lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to find the strength to move forward, to somehow patch yourself up after everything that happened. When you open the door, you see him standing there, his eyes filled with an uncertainty that’s almost heartbreaking. He’s gripping a small notebook in his hands—your notebook, the one you left in his room—and his gaze is fixed on you with a desperation you’ve never seen before.

“Hi,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You don’t reply right away, the sight of him dredging up the familiar ache in your chest. Part of you wants to slam the door and hide, to keep yourself safe from any more hurt. But you don’t. Instead, you meet his gaze, forcing yourself to remain steady.

“Hi,” you reply, your voice guarded.

He shifts on his feet, glancing down at the notebook before offering it to you. “I, uh… you left this. Thought you might need it.”

You take it from him, feeling the familiar weight of it in your hands. “Thanks.”

A heavy silence hangs between you, one that neither of you seems willing to break. Bucky swallows, his face creased with an anxious, uncertain look that makes him seem vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen before.

“Can we… can we talk?” he asks, his voice almost pleading. “Please. I know I don’t deserve it, but I just need to say a few things. If you don’t want to listen, I’ll understand, and I’ll leave you alone. I just… I need you to know the truth.”

You hesitate, but finally, you nod, stepping back to let him into your room. He steps inside, closing the door softly behind him, and takes a seat in the small chair by your desk while you remain standing, arms crossed protectively over your chest.

For a moment, he just looks at you, his gaze heavy with regret. Then he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“I know you have every right to hate me,” he starts, his voice barely steady. “I know I messed up in ways I can’t even fix. And I know… I know what I did was horrible. I just—” He swallows, his throat tight. “I just need you to know that it wasn’t all a lie. When we started this… when we first got close, I didn’t expect any of this to happen. I didn’t think I’d feel the way I did.”

You look down, his words stirring a fresh wave of pain in your chest. “But it was a bet, Bucky,” you murmur, your voice trembling. “You… you did all of that just to win some money. To you, it was just a game.”

He flinches, guilt flashing in his eyes, and he nods. “I know. I won’t make excuses for it—I was stupid, and I hurt you. But somewhere along the way, it stopped being about the bet. It stopped being a game. And I started… I started caring about you, more than I’ve ever cared about anyone.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you force yourself to keep your voice steady. “Then why didn’t you just tell me the truth?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair again, his expression tortured. “Because I was scared. I was terrified that you’d look at me the way you’re looking at me now, that I’d lose you. I know that doesn’t make it better, but it’s the truth. I tried to find the right time, tried to find the right words, but I kept putting it off, thinking maybe… maybe I could make it up to you before you ever found out.” He looks down, his voice breaking. “But that was stupid. I should’ve just been honest with you from the start.”

You take a shaky breath, feeling the full weight of everything he’s saying. Part of you wants to believe him, wants to forgive him, but the wound he left is still fresh, still raw. “I trusted you, Bucky,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “I thought… I thought what we had was real.”

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with a desperate sincerity that takes you off guard. “It was real. For me, it was real. And I know that doesn’t change anything, but I need you to know that. I never meant to hurt you, and I’ll spend as long as it takes to make it up to you if you’ll let me.”

You study him for a long moment, searching his face, trying to find some indication of sincerity, something to show that he’s truly sorry. And when you see the remorse in his eyes, the sadness that mirrors your own, you feel something in your chest soften, just slightly.

“Bucky,” you begin softly, forcing yourself to stay strong, “I can’t just go back to how things were. I can’t pretend this didn’t happen. You hurt me more than anyone ever has, and it’s going to take time for me to get past that.”

He nods, his expression resigned, but he doesn’t look away. “I understand. And I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. I just… I just want the chance to prove to you that I’m more than the guy who hurt you. Even if we can’t go back, I want to be there for you, even if it’s just as a friend.”

You let his words sink in, feeling a flicker of hope amidst the ache in your heart. Part of you still longs for what you had, for the closeness you shared, but you know that you can’t rush back into it. If Bucky truly wants a second chance, he’ll have to earn it, piece by piece, day by day.

“Maybe…” You hesitate, feeling vulnerable but determined. “Maybe we can start as friends. Just… friends. No promises, no expectations. If you’re willing to do that, to rebuild things from the ground up… then maybe, someday, I’ll be able to trust you again.”

Relief floods his face, and he nods, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll take that. Anything you’re willing to give, I’ll take it. I’ll prove to you that I can be better. I’ll prove that I’m worth your trust.”

You give him a tentative smile, and for the first time in days, you feel a flicker of hope. It’s small and fragile, but it’s enough to remind you that maybe healing is possible.

Over the next few weeks, Bucky becomes a constant but careful presence in your life. He shows up when you need help with an assignment, offers a listening ear when you need to vent about a long day, and joins you for coffee on campus, keeping the conversation light and easy. He respects your boundaries, never pushing for more, never expecting anything beyond friendship. You’re surprised at how attentive he is, how willing he is to wait, to prove that he’s serious about making things right.

Slowly, the walls around your heart begin to crack. You start to feel comfortable with him again, to let your guard down, if only a little. You catch him glancing at you sometimes, a soft, almost wistful look in his eyes, as if he’s seeing something precious he thought he’d lost forever. It’s in these moments that you remember why you fell for him in the first place, why his smile used to make your heart race, why his touch felt like home.

One day, as you’re both sitting on a bench by the campus pond, he turns to you, a hesitant smile on his face. “I know we’re just friends right now, and I’m okay with that. But I want you to know that I’m grateful for every moment I get to spend with you, even if it’s just like this.”

You feel a warmth spread through you, a sense of peace you haven’t felt in a long time. “Thank you, Bucky,” you say softly. “For not giving up. For being patient with me.”

He reaches out, hesitating for a moment before resting his hand on yours, his touch warm and steady. “I’ll wait as long as it takes. I’ll prove to you that I’m here for you, no matter what.”

And as you look into his eyes, you feel a flicker of something you thought was lost—a tentative, fragile hope that maybe things could be different this time. That he could truly be the person he’s trying to be, the person you wanted him to be all along. And though you know there’s a long road ahead, you’re finally willing to take that first step with him, trusting that maybe, this time, he won’t let you down.

The night is alive with music and laughter as you step into the crowded frat house. It’s your first time back here since everything happened, and you can’t deny the nervous flutter in your stomach as you take in the familiar scene. But tonight feels different—Bucky is by your side, watching you with a gentle smile as he guides you through the chaos of people, his hand warm and steady on your arm.

Over the past few weeks, things between you and Bucky have been slowly mending. He’s proven himself time and time again, showing up when it mattered, respecting your boundaries, and never pressuring you for more than you were willing to give. He’s become someone you can lean on, someone who’s earned back your trust bit by bit. And, to your own surprise, you feel something new blossoming between you—something deeper, stronger, and more genuine than before.

When you reach the main room, you spot Sam and Steve near the keg, both of them giving you a thumbs-up as soon as they see you with Bucky. You laugh, rolling your eyes, but Bucky just grins, shrugging as if to say, They’re harmless.

“Glad you came tonight,” he says, leaning closer so you can hear him over the noise. “I was worried you might skip.”

You shrug, glancing up at him. “Well, I figured it was about time I faced the frat house again.”

He chuckles, a warm, rich sound that sends a spark of something familiar through you. It’s the same feeling you used to get when you first met, when you were just getting to know him, before anything got complicated. Only now, it feels even better—because you’re finally on solid ground with him, without secrets or lies standing between you.

As the night goes on, you find yourself enjoying the party, laughing with friends, and even dancing a bit. Bucky stays close, his presence a comforting, steady anchor amidst the noise and chaos. He’s attentive, offering you drinks and glancing over every so often to make sure you’re comfortable. And every time you catch his gaze, you feel your heart race just a little faster.

At one point, as you’re talking with a friend, you feel Bucky’s hand gently touch your arm, and he leans in close, his voice soft and intimate against your ear. “Want to get some air?”

You nod, letting him lead you through the throngs of people until you step out onto the back porch. The cool night air is a welcome relief from the warmth inside, and you breathe deeply, taking in the quiet calm of the evening. Bucky leans against the railing, watching you with a soft, almost nervous smile, his hands tucked into his pockets.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you something,” he begins, his voice low and steady, as if he’s thought about this moment a thousand times. “I know we’ve been rebuilding things, and I know you wanted to take it slow. But, Y/N… being with you these past few weeks, even just as friends, has been everything to me. And I can’t stop thinking about you. About us.”

Your heart stirs at his words, and you feel a warmth spread through you, a sense of longing that’s been building quietly since the day he asked for a second chance.

“Bucky,” you say softly, stepping a little closer. “I… I feel the same. It’s been hard, letting go of the past. But I think—no, I know—I’ve forgiven you. You’ve shown me who you really are, and… I like that person.”

His eyes brighten at your words, and he reaches out, his hand brushing your cheek as his thumb strokes gently across your skin. He leans closer, his gaze searching your face as if to make sure you’re truly ready for this.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers, his voice barely audible in the quiet night air.

You feel your heart skip a beat, and you give him a small, almost shy nod, your pulse racing as he leans in, closing the distance between you. The moment his lips meet yours, it’s like the world melts away, leaving only the warmth of his touch, the softness of his mouth against yours. It’s gentle at first, tentative, as if he’s afraid of breaking the spell. But as you respond, his hand slips to the back of your neck, pulling you a little closer, deepening the kiss with a quiet, aching intensity.

When you finally pull away, he rests his forehead against yours, both of you catching your breath, sharing a smile that’s equal parts relief and joy.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice full of warmth, “I promise, I’m not going to mess this up again. I want this with you—for real, no games.”

You smile, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. “Good, because you’re stuck with me now.”

He laughs, pulling you into a tight hug, and you bury your face in his shoulder, feeling a happiness you haven’t felt in a long time. You’re finally ready to move forward with him, to start fresh, knowing that this time, it’s real.

maybe I should've made it more angsty? I love angst, request angst people! lol

[boofeine]

complicated freak – lsk

pairing: dk x fem reader

genre: smut one shot

synopsis: you feel horrible for pretending to pay attention at anything he might be rambling in front of you right now; your thoughts wherelse, at the image of his thick cock.

warnings: mdni, fingering, dirty talk, roleplay (kinda), one single spank, cum, riding, mention of face riding, fighting dominance, descriptive, protected penetrative sex

song: baby said by maneskin / complicated freak by harry styles / ironically shhh! by viviz also came out :)

tags: @huen1ngk4i @aaniag @svteensworld @unlikelysublimekryptonite

Seokmin is a lot of things, but what he's most known for is his sweetness and kindness. That's what draws you in on first place. He's so welcoming, makes your heart flutter just from receiving his attention. You were done for, when you got yourself just a little bit way too into it, into him, the way butterflies come to your stomach when he gets shy on your presence.

It came as a surprise for you too, when he turned a completely different person between sheets. You have no idea in which point you got yourself in here, but it's definitely not your last. You got your body against his more times than you could admit, and crave it more than you think you should. The problem is that he's so soft, it makes you feel dirty for having this thoughts when he's not burried on your pussy.

You feel horrible for pretending to pay attention at anything he might be rambling in front of you right now. Your thoughts wherelse, at the image of his thick dick. He rests his back on the sofa, his spread legs on the floor not doing any good either as you stare at his side profile while he talks.

The outline of his nose making you remember how deliciously it pokes at your clit while he tongue fucks you, a rush of heat spreading on your body up to your cheeks as your core suddenly feel needy for his attention. Every time he looks up to the ceiling like he's thinking what he will say next, gathering his thoughts, your mind is wilding in how you want to climb up that couch and sit on his pretty face.

"What do you think?" Seokmin's voices echoes, making you blink at him, having not a clue what he's talking about as he stares back at you, waiting for some type of response.

"Hm? Sorry?" You tilt your head, not going unnoticed that you weren't paying attention, your heart dropping to a whole, feeling guilty.

"The movies on saturday? That is this one new movie I was talking about..." He starts again but the ache on your pussy is getting unbearable.

"Hum... Hum... Sounds good" You let out. Your hand shamelessly caressing his biceps, going down his arms as you slightly pull it to you. It's not innocently that the motion makes his soft fingers grease against your exposed thighs. You suppress a gasp, your mouth agape, his hands close enough to where you need him the most.

"Oh, sorry" He says, resting his hand on the side of your body instead, as you tug to his arm. Fuck! Why is he so sweet?

He starts talking about something else again. The same guilty creeping through you as you don't pay a single attention, your body going further as if he will be able to read the signs.

"Seokmin, baby..." You interrupt him mid word, his face moving to look at you, the pet name coming out as a surprise to him "I know you want to talk but my pussy is so fucking wet right now" You shamelessly confess as his eyes bulge.

"Oh-" It's all he's able to reply. Your hands that haven't left his arms, pulling it to your legs. His eyes following your motions and back to your face "You know I'm a little sad you weren't listening to me" He says, not true to his words.

"Seokmin... I-" You try.

"No, No" He cuts off immediately "I was saying something that I really wanted you to know but all you can think of it's my cock on your pussy" He mocks, his big hands gripping a hand full of your thighs this time.

"I'm sorry" You pouts and he giggles a little.

"You should be" He says, restraining his hands from your skin as he takes this to where you left it "So, as I was saying, there's this restaurant..."

You groan, your head going back as you get tired of waiting and being nice "Fuck, Seokmin! Shut up" You let out, your hands grabbing and guiding his hand to your pussy. He laughs, he fucking laughs at how desesparate you are. Pushing the skirt of your dress up to expose your clothed core, his fingers greasing over the material as you relax at his touch, your head going back, eyes shut at finally feeling something.

"They do have really good food" He says back about the damn restaurant to provoke you as you grunt, frustrated. He leans a little closer to your face, cupping your cunt through the thong "But don't worry, the only thing I can think of eating is you right now" He lowers his tone to whisper it to you.

"Good" You answer "Thought you'd never shut up" Your smart mouth takes over as he smirks.

His hand pulls your thong to the side, taking a long stroke at your folds as you mewl, a heavy breath getting out like it needed to. Your hips bulking to his hand and legs spreading almost instinctively.

"Shit, you really are wet" he responds. Seokmin gathers the slick up to your clit, massaging the muscle in small circles. the grip you have on his arm getting stronger each motion of his fingers. You're wet enough to hear the sounds of it as he goes down to enter you with his digits. Your nails dig to his skin, your head lowering as your forehead rests where his shoulders and arms meet. The gasps turning into moans as he fucks you. He moves slowly, watching you break.

"Seokmin, baby..." You say gripping his wrist this time. That fucking pet name again, he wont ever get used to it, his cock tightening on his pants. "Wait" you push him out, your cunt pulsating with the loss but just enough to get up and take your thong out and sit on his lap. He welcomes you like he always does, watching you undo his jeans to be met at the sight of his hardening length pressing on his boxers. But before you can even drink in the sight, he's back at pushing two fingers inside you. Your back arch when he curls them inside, getting on your sweet spot.

You moan out his name as he presses the spot continuously with the tip of his fingers. You can't help but roll your eyes, the knot forming on your stomach as an unimaginable amount of arousal slip out of your entrance. "Fuu- ah! Minnie... Not yet, please!" You beg as you feel your legs shake.

Like he's so obedient to you, he stops, restraining his hands as you squirm over him. "You made a show to have it, and now you're going back?" he spits out as you still try to calm down your breathing, eyes slowly opening.

"I want..." You try.

"What? Say it" he demands as his wet hands from your slick goes under his boxers, taking his cock out with a gasp of relieve. You stare at it, the way he spreads the wetness on his cockhead making you whine at the view.

"I want your cock... inside me" You plea as he starts to bump himself, letting out a groan.

"Of course you do" He says smartly with a smirk "Go get a condom on my wallet" He says. You reach for his pocket, knowing he came with anything else, his wallet soon found as you open it, the package on one of his spaces as you take it from it. You throw it somewhere beside you as you immediately start to open the condom. He hands his base, aligning it for you as his other hand digs to your hips, pulling you to him, watching you take over, pressing up on the plastic before sliding it down his length.

He holds you firmly as you take his base instead, guiding his head to your entrance when you get your body up to receive him. You press him inside, feeling the delicious stretch, your body threatening to give up while you slowly sit down on him. You can see his breathing pace fastening, his chest rising and falling, but you're no different, your head going down, your foreheads getting together as you can feel each others breath. You finally bottoms out, your body relaxing while he takes your mouth on his for the first time today. It's all too much, a whine coming out on his lips when his tongue asks for space. The kiss airy and needy as you make out.

When you feel the neediness again, already adjusted to his size, you start rolling your hips, low moans coming from him as he guides you with his hands on your waist. "Fuck!" he swears under his breath, feeling your walls pulsating around his cock. "Was this what you needed, hm? Was that all running on that head while I was talking?" He says, and you just moan, picking up your pace as if it was going to answer him. "The pretty heads, always the nastiest thoughts, isn't it?" But he isn't any different, he thinks. Those thoughts run just the same for him, too.

You are not answering in words but going faster on him. Until even this, It's not enough. Your hips going up just to sit back in. His head going back with a roll of his eyes as you start to bounce on his cock. His hands going back to your ass cheeks, spreading them apart. "Stopped me just to use my cock as your little fuck toy... so unpolite" He speaks again and you groans.

Your palms fastening to press against his lips as he yelps, but you can see the smirk from his eyes. "You don't ever shut up, do you?" You spit out, your thrusts going faster, the skin slapping sounds starting to fill the room "I guess next time I should take my first plan of sitting on your face. At least then you can talk between my legs if that's something you want so much. How does that sound?" You get closer to say those words, your hand prettily silencing him as you stare at his watery glistening eyes. You can feel the way he twitches inside you and the muffled moans coming out. You know he loves it.

You suddenly calm down your pace, turning it into firm deep, slow thrusts. The heat and pleasure building up as you push yourself to the edge. Your walls hugging him tightly as he starts to feel his balls tightening too. "Cum for me, baby. Come on... make it worth it" You talk him through it, his knuckles white from gripping your ass so hard, leaving red marks of his big hands on it.

It comes at a surprise when he bites the skin of your palm, your hands jumping out of him as you yelp "Fuck, Seokmin! Are you crazy!?" You scream, your cheeks turning red. He hands you in place, starting to fuck you instead, thrusts meeting up your hips. You moan, your hands driving its way to his hair so you can tug on something.

"You should learn to behave and talk nicely" He grunts out, the throaty voice and drool over his lips doesn't go unnoticed. Heat collecting around your bodies, both of you getting close to cumming. "Someone has to teach you a really good lesson" He says lastly, his palm arriving to your skin with one loud hard slap on your ass cheek. The skin tingles, your body going stiff and mouth agape, like you stopped breathing for a second, before you finally let it go. Your body shaking as you cum with a breathy moan. Your pussy clenching nonstop as he cums with a loud gasp right after you. His load emptying on the condom.

Both of you rolling your hips messily trying to ride off your highs, until you're tired and giving up. The wetness is thick enough to make him slide out unintentionally as you both whine from the loss.

You sit back on his thighs, staring while he takes off the condom from his flacid length, tying it up with a knot. His balls and inner thighs glistening with your own juices as you hince at the sight, "I'm sorry..." You say it smally, but he smiles.

"It's ok... I love it" He replies, pulling you to him. And for a moment, you two just stay there, tangled up on each other before gathering corage to get up and clean up the mess.

[darqx]

What are your best tips for making an OC? (IT'S ME AGAIN MUAHAHAHAHA)

I actually have some tips over here for fleshing out a character! :) Well it's more for fleshing out a character physically but the tips can be applied to general creation. Here are some more that might be helpful to think about:

🤯 ACTUALLY, DONT THINK TOO MUCH

This might seem like contradictory advice (because wait don't you HAVE to know everything about your charac?? Eh???) but what I mean by this is; if you have to really force something onto a character then it wasn't for that character to begin with. This applies to anything - names, likes, actions etc. The more you force, the more stiff and unnatural your charac is going to be, because at that point they will be less of an organic charac and more of a personal dress up doll you keep throwing things at. You and your audience are going to notice this.

Let things come naturally, if possible. If you have a thought and you're like "actually yes this is so my charac", that's exactly the type of feeling towards details you are aiming for.

📝 If you're feeling like something DOESN'T work, put it on the backburner and come back to it later to see how you feel about it. If you're still 🫤 about it then it's most likely not for that charac.

📷 KEEP IT REAL

I mentioned this in my other post and I'm going to mention it again because it is actually the best tip - pretend they are an actual person. What is important to them as AN ACTUAL PERSON? What would AN ACTUAL PERSON WITH THEIR PERSONALITY do in [x] situation? How would you describe this ACTUAL PERSON THAT YOU KNOW? You don't need an entire checklist but you should at least know the general gist of them.

When you do this, you naturally flesh out your charac and make them believable. You're also more likely to avoid the pitfall a lot of creators tend to trip into which is THIS TRAIT = ENTIRE PERSONALITY*.

*This means that a creator takes ONE element of their character and...makes it the entire character. For eg if the charac is gay, then everything else about the charac becomes secondary to the fact the charac is gay. This makes for very flat characs, as the thought process behind them then becomes "what would a GAY character do?" as opposed to "what would THIS character do?". Ideal for if you're legit trying to create an extremely tropey charac though I guess...

📝 Write elevator pitches for your characs and story. Elevator pitches distill the main essence of your characs and/or story into one succinct sentence.

💭 PICK A FEELING

If you're really stuck when developing your charac, it can be helpful to think about how you want your audience to perceive them, and how they need to be in order to achieve those feelings. The key concept of this tip is that you need to step back and look at your character from an audience viewpoint, and not from your own "this is my baby" rose-tinted lenses. Are you portraying your quirky character as fun and quirky to the audience or are you portraying them as annoying? Is your sassy character actually cool and sassy or are you portraying them as a raging jerkass bitch?

This helps in balancing your character so that you don't accidentally make a "likeable" protagonist that people actually hate or antagonists that are simply straw men.

📝 Get honest feedback from your friends about the kind of personality etc they think your character has. Does it correlate with your view/your intended perception of them?

[burningcheese-merchant]

Psst, hear me out: The Beast being fucking yanderes with the ancients.

You Get It™️ I mean... Did you guys see episode 6? Burning Simp Cookie is already a yandere lol. He's been there and he refuses to leave. And Shadow Milk is honestly not that far behind, he feels some type of way towards Pure Vanilla and it would be cute if it wasn't so sad and creepy lol

Really though, I just love hero/villain ships in general (always have, since long before Cookie Run ever existed) and I get a kick out of villains acting stupid over crushes (read: obsessions), and acting stupid in general. There's just something about a villain being in love with the hero to a psychotic, comical degree, and the hero rebuffing them at every turn that's just really amusing to me lol. Like what Joker sort of has with Batman, you know?

Here are my Yandere Beasts in bare-bones terms:

Burning Spice: come on, if you've read my stuff, you know EXACTLY what Yandere Spice is like lol. If not, I'll refer you to this and this, as well as my fics on AO3. If those don't tell you what Yandere Spice is like then idk how else to help you lol

Shadow Milk: if the final boss of theater/drama kids had a crush but was also a malignant narcissist of some sort lol. Absolutely DESPERATE for Vanilla's attention at all times. If he's not actively trying to worm into Vanilla's brain and harass him in his thoughts and dreams, he's in the real world brainstorming better ways to do that lol. He does not grasp why the creepy puppet shows and gaslighting attempts aren't convincing Vanilla to fall in love with him. Will attack and torment and insult Vani in one breath and then praise and love and worship him in another, because he's a histrionic clown freak with whirlwind emotions. But above all else, he literally thinks he owns Vani and is meticulously plotting the horrible and hilarious demise of any and all he perceives as a threat to their union

Eternal Sugar: World's Laziest Stalker™️. Almost exclusively haunts Holly in her dreams (I have to assume that that's what her power will entail, as the Beast of Sloth); however, she's more "effective" in her wooing attempts due to her past experience as the Herald of Happiness. She actually goes out of her way to construct dreams and the like that have things in them that make Holly happy (or what she thinks makes Holly happy; she, as well as the others, has big tunnel vision and is very selfish and self-absorbed, and thus pays more lip service to her own wants than those of who she loves/obsesses over). Thankfully doesn't run into Holly in person often because that's work... but sometimes she DOES work up the nerve to go after her for real, and... well

Mystic Flour: Denial, denial, denial. Not just a river in Egypt the Golden Cheese Kingdom, but she'll say and act like otherwise. No, she does not like Dark Cacao. He robbed her of her volition and the chance to enact her will. He prevented her from freeing the world from pain and suffering. He is a stubborn fool who refuses to understand the truth. He... is very handsome. She does not like how handsome he is. It is distracting. She doesn't like dwelling on her memories of him and their encounters. She doesn't like how she came to harbor a single kernel of respect in her heart after he stood his ground against her; a kernel that she inadvertently nurtured and cultivated slowly but surely, until... no. No, she doesn't like Dark Cacao. She doesn't think about him all day. She doesn't want to try to lure him back to her land so she can trap him in the flour fog with her again. She doesn't miss feeling his dark eyes on her. She doesn't deeply resent his attachment to his people, and seek to transfer that attachment to her instead. No, she... damn it, he's ruined her. He's made her feel things again. He's made her succumb to selfishness and greed, to earthly desire and attachment - desire for HIM, attachment to HIM. All of her hard work and enlightenment gone to waste... She doesn't want to like Dark Cacao, she recognizes the folly in such a thing, but she's stuck - and so stuck is she that not only does she not really see a way out, she doesn't WANT one. She's become too content with her attachment to him too quickly. Now she has to agonize over her own foolishness, and try to keep denying that she doesn't care while also longing for his attention and wanting to do away with all that steals his attention away from her

Silent Salt: probably the least awful of the five, but he's still creepy and that's not a high bar to clear anyway lol. Has a better grasp on "normal" behavior than the others (like... he pays attention to what White Lily likes/wants and tries to adjust accordingly), but he's following her around everywhere and acting extremely violent and territorial over her towards anyone who he catches approaching her. He's legitimately, surprisingly sweet and gentle towards her; he brings her flowers, he listens to her when she asks/tells him something, he's more or less respectful of her personal space (he will try to be as physically close to her as possible, but actually backs off a little if she asks him to, only to try again, and so on and so forth)... but he's still a villain, he's still violent and creepy, he still gets angry when she pays attention to other people for too long and he has brought actual harm to others out of jealousy. He's the best of the worst but that really doesn't mean much of anything, he's still a psycho creep like the others

In short, they form a tight-knit coalition of absolutely fucking deranged freakazoids and they should all probably die :)

[clubsmarties]

"A lot of mishaps," he laughed, licking his lips after that small make out. The green apple aftertaste leaving traces on his lips. He would have thought she'd be a cherry type of girl but no even with chapstick she managed to surprise him. "M&M I call her that, she loves to be read stories. That's what we do every Friday night. It's why I only have that one class on Friday to make sure I've done my homework when I call her." He shrugged thinking by now he should be used to not having a home. He never had one before the Phillips scooped him up. "It's okay. I'm used to it. Maybe one day I'll find home." Eli's smile widened at the thought of getting stories of her. "I'll take it. Embarrassing? I highly doubt that. Any and all stories about you I'll be glad to hear."

"You're more than dust. You have a glow just some people can't see it. It's on them not on you." He gently squeezed her hand and smiled. "And that's enough. Always will be." Just because her mom didn't see her like that didn't mean she wasn't special. "Good. After all you can't dim your light for others. Not fair to you." Cooking and having a knack to learn seemed like a good combo. "Sounds like we're a match in kitchen heaven."

He couldn't help but smiled amused. "Carry a portable fan with you at all times. That way I don't have to be too far away from you. I know. It wasn't the brightest idea to move here but I also think it lead me to you. I am not sure if I believe in that but also not really a coincidence we met before we actually met. It was like," he thought about it. "A string pulling me toward you. Have you ever felt that?" Nodding his head he didn't think she'd take him up on it so quick but was glad she had. "Winter break coming up. Let's do it. I'm sure my sisters will love to join if you're okay with that. I need to see if they can come or one will be missing. Not sure Isa and hia schedule." He had to think hard on if he did go anywhere he had wanted to. "No. We stayed local or if we felt really adventurous we went to Colorado. But bucket list items for sure. Brazil? That is cool. That reminds me of one I forgot. Panama." He bumped into her and gave her a look. "Neither am I very good at sharing."

Eli turned around and sighed trying to find his sweater he hadn't worn in the week. Once he did he took it out and found bottoms that would fit her. Last time Inez bought him pants they were a little too tight so now they seemed like they'd fit Laurel. "Here, get comfortable. You can't stand or sit on the floor. You're my guest. I insist." His black striped hoodie was the one he gave her and handed her the bottoms. "These should fit you. I have an extra toothbrush in the drawer in the bathroom so feel free to use that. I promise it's brand new." Now he was thankful the Phillips siblings gave him so much in their care package. "If you need anything else let me know."

Cloud nine was too low for the blissful feeling she was experiencing as he returned her kiss. Laurel hoped, but didn't expect. Feeling him so close to her, well, it was impossible to melt while in his arms. "Clearly many talents," she agreed breathlessly, happily remaining in the daze he left her when he pulled away. Her knees felt weak, and she couldn't be more thankful for the seat she was on. There was no denying, she had fallen for him. It was a thing, right? Love at first dance? "The baby whisperer," the title made her laugh, picturing him as the ultimate babysitter. "Oh that sounds so cute, watching her grow up. You probably have some really good stories from your babysitting days. I can see why she's so close to you, big brother duties." Laurel rested her chin on her palm, listening to him talk more about Chicago. "I'm sorry to hear that, losing a home is not easy." Optimism wasn't her forte, despite the positivity she was trying to display, so she was familiar with his sentiment. It just saddened her that he didn't feel connected to a home, the sadness only increasing with his comment on his parents. Is that what led him here? "Maybe this place helps you find some hint or some direction to a new home. You still have a long time." After all, they were still so young. So much could happen, right? Wasn't that the world's big promise - adventure and twists/turns to find their place? "I know they'd love to meet you, hm I don't know about those stories though." Still, a resigned sigh followed. "They'll be eager to share the most embarrassing stories about me."

She had called herself an open book, so Laurel meant to deliver, even in the topics she tried avoiding. Her big one? Her family life. It often led to some variation of, that's family, you need to understand. The warmth from his hand soothed the turmoil she began to feel with the topic, like settling a storm that hadn't even begun. It was nice to hear otherwise for a change. "She's just...particular about what she wanted. You see past the dust then?" His reassurance brought a smile to her face, "careful what you wish for, but don't worry. I've been learning to be myself, promise." It helped to be in a new place with her dad, no more nagging in her ear. "You like to learn, and I like a challenge, hm...we'll be a good pair. We will add cooking to the list, finding a new recipe, and hope we don't burn the place down."

She was glad that he agreed, because it was the simple truth. It felt like a cliche to say that from the moment she saw him, but things really had not been the same since she spoke to him. "Good, consider it your new nickname. Pretty green eyes," how easily it flowed. "It could be, don't be surprised if I call you that in the middle of class." Or the middle of campus, that'd be funny. Would it embarrass him though? "You picked one hell of a state then." Not that she was complaining, Laurel probably wouldn't have met him otherwise. "Heatwaves are the standard here, but good to know you get irritable. I'll have to keep you near an a.c. unit."

Her eyes seemed to brighten just a smidge more, filled with excitement. "Really?" Laurel was basically a kid at Christmas. "I'd really like that. You can show me what I've been missing. We should totally plan it!" The thought had momentarily crossed her mind, thinking holiday plans and wanting to make the cabin idea happen for him, just to see him smile. Getting carried away was in her nature. But, him suggesting it? Well, that gave her free rein. "Have you visited any of them, or have a list of top three you'd like to visit? I'd like to spend any day with you, outside or inside. So, sign me up for this nature tour." She nodded without hesitation, confirmation was sitting right in front of her. "Nerdy is hot, absolutely. Sharing," she hummed in thought, even if the answer was already at the tip of her tongue. "No, I'm not a fan of sharing at all. Hope that's okay."

"Tell you what, you come over to my place. Well, my dad's place. We do that cooking lesson, and I can bring those pom poms out of retirement to see if the clap clap cheers stuck." Her voice was laced with amusement, using the words he used earlier. "I'm intrigued to hear these ideas you're thinking of. That would be great, company is really all I want, but I do love fun facts." Taking her hand shouldn't surprise her, but it still sent a light jolt of electricity through her. Laurel loved it though, how things flowed between them with barely any awkwardness. She felt like she had known him for ages, and not just weeks. "Green is a good one, might be becoming my favorite color too. Wow, you know all the good places. Madrid seems like a fun spot, and food..oh my god, probably so good. Me? I have a whole list of places, but top would be Brazil or Japan. Brazil for their carnival, but it also just looks so beautiful." She stepped into his room, offering him a smile as she looked around. "Thank you, I'll be alright." Couldn't get that cold, right? "Okay, I'll be here," she teased, knowing there was no intention to leave.

"Comfy looks good on you." No outside clothes. Well, Laurel was out of luck there. She was not exactly carrying an extra pair of pajamas in her backpack. "Makes sense, I'll just avoid your bed then. And, now I know the outside clothes thing, for future reference."

[panpanghost]

part 2 of this thing:

Macaque heard them coming, Wukong's new friends. They were here when he first woke up, actually the strange kid was the first person he saw when he opened his eyes. The little fella looked so scared and worried about him, he even promised to find a way to save him no matter what. Such a nice kid.

But, he doesn't know who the kid is... After he left last time, Macaque asked Wukong about his identity but Wukong, strangely, just looked at him shocked and never gave him an answer, after that Macaque got the idea that he lost a part of his memories.

Macaque has been trying to get his memories back, but it's like shovelling through a mountain, he can't remember anything from the past years, he can't tell how long it's been. He tried asking Wukong about it, but, for some reason, Wukong is lying, he knows he's lying. He tells him not to think about it too much and just enjoy the present, Wukong won't answer no matter what he asks, he'd either avoid the question or lie.

But Macaque doesn't doubt Wukong, he knows he still cares about him, sure he was acting weirdly when Macaque went to sleep and shower with him, but he didn't kick him out or throw him away... he was acting strangely though... maybe... maybe they aren't that close anymore, maybe they drifted apart and haven't been together for a long time and Wukong is letting him stay because he feels bad for him-

No, no that can't be it, if it were the case then Wukong would've straight up told him to leave and he hasn't done that yet, in fact he's doing the complete opposite, he won't let Macaque leave his sight let alone the island. He's also been a lot more physical... not that Macaque is complaining about that... but still, that is not how you treat someone you want to get away from.

Maybe he can ask the kid, but would that upset Wukong? Shit... He can't stay like this.. Damn it. He'll deal with Wukong when he has to.

_"Hey Wukong, your friends are coming. Should we go greet them?" he asked playing with Wukong's hair, under the shadow of an old tree,

_"They are?!" Wukong got up from Macaque's lap dusting and putting himself together as if he was caught doing something he shouldn't. What's with him? Macaque doesn't remember Wukong being the shy type. No, Macaque is they shy one, Wukong used to have fun tormenting him in front of others.

_"Yeh, they'll be at the house any minute now."

_"Alright, thanks for telling me."

_"No problem, let's go see them, I'm actually kinda curious to know what that kid found out about the crown. All the monk said was that he felt a dark energy from it then nothing else."

_"Yeh.. about that. Why don't you just stay and rest a little more. I'll talk to them."

_"What? Why? It kind'a concerns me, don't you think I should be there?" Macaque is really starting to lose his temper,

_"Actually.." think Wukong, think! "When they first arrived here, you attacked them thinking they were enemies, and.. well... you guys don't get along that much..." would he believe that? it's not entirely a lie though..

_"oh- ok... I'll wait for you then." Macaque feels really bad, did he really attack them? but they seem so nice. It's really upsetting him, after what he'd done to them, they are still trying to help him, he should apologise, maybe make them some apology sweets, Macaque can't cook but he for sure can make killer desserts.

_"Hey, don't feel so down about it, I'll be back soon, ok?" Wukong feels a little bad for upsetting Macaque, but this is for the best, yes, it's for the best... is it?

_"ok." Macaque gave him a little smile. He should listen to Wukong, it's not like he can remember what he's apologising for. Wukong will take care of it.

[doink-boink]

Finally drew my interpretation of Zach's parents!

Have had these fellows in the works for a good while!

Really had to lock in when doing the writing here lol - my handwriting is normally a weird hyper mix between cursive and print. But messier. Hopefully its legible! Enjoy some more yapping about these guys below the cut >:D

Must mention this is within my own AU! My interpretation of Zach specifically is a trans man. So uh! No way in hell Arthur is supportive in that regard. He is a miserable man whose only concern is furthering the family business and his public image.

Really looked to both Moral Orel and Bojack Horseman as inspiration for how these two would be. Did not intend for Arthur to share a name with the character he is inspired by lol - but uhm! He specifically is like Arthur Puppington when Clay was a kid: Distant, cold, though not physically abusive. Emotionally? Oh brother, you bet.

Regarding Kim and Arthur's relationship, that was really dead in the water. Kim is a self published author, or rather, an ASPIRING self published author. She mostly writes crime novellas/dramas, though needed some outsider input regarding the legal side of her stories. So, of course, she decides to reach out to the biggest law firm in the area.

It is initially a short and sweet interaction: "I ask you questions, you give me answers and insight when you can." However, she grows to enjoy Arthur's company, falling for him quickly. VERY rushed marriage ensues! Good god! (Of course not ASAP, within a few months time of dating/correspondence) Not too certain as of right now where Zach comes into the mix, but definitely in that honeymoon stage of a relationship where you don't quite know the person yet to really gauge if things will work out or not.

I mean, things absolutely do NOT work out in the end, but they don't know that yet. Arthur I feel is the type to want a family ASAP. Need that sweet sweet heir to the company. Will accept nothing less than a son. Sucks for him, doesn't end up coming to fruition until much later! AFAB child, disappointment on Arthur's behalf, compassion on Kim's. Like a night and day difference - even after Zach does eventually transition (his mother is deceased by this point) his father refuses to accept it until he dies. By until I mean: "You still are not my son." *flatline*

Kim was there for Zach until the day she died, which would probably be around late middle school to early highschool? In that age range. Old enough to have fond and in depth memories. Which! Arthur is the one who discovers what had happened. Busy writing a novel when wham, sudden cardiac arrest - alone, as she tended to keep to herself. Entire family dynamic changes from then onward, though the abusive aspects of it were ever present. Arthur is generally unsupportive of Zach's endeavors, frustrated that he is going into science and robotics as opposed to law. (Though I do think he'd have been trained or prepped for a career as a lawyer throughout his teens-adolescence)

Zach is the closest to his mother, with most of his fashion sense coming from her. Gotta love the turtleneck sweater! @novazentryx came up with the idea that he inherited his early black sweater from Tazzy Chris from her after it shrunk in the wash, loved that so y'know what! This totally applies here. Not only did he inherit the sweater, but also her V-necklace! (Which, if you have seen Zoey, is where she gets it from! As well as she looks strikingly similar to Kim. On that front I think that was a surprise from Aviva, knowing how close he was to her)

Spitballing with this one, but I think it would be interesting if Zach had assisted in pitching ideas for Kim's stories! What aspects of it I do not know, but maybe names for the characters. Mayhaps that is where he gets ZACH from? Don't ask what his deadname is, haven't thought of that and would prefer not to lol

I think that concludes my rambling! Do not really have anything else that is coming to mind at the moment, so feel free to ask questions or leave suggestions about these two! I will more than likely respond ^^ (To asks or replies) Thank you for humoring me and reading all of this if you're here lol, I really appreciate it!!

[tlbodine]

Tips for Talking to Conservative Friends & Family

In the wake of the election, with the holidays around the corner, some of you may be wondering how to deal with friends, family members, coworkers, etc. who voted for Trump and/or who espouse his policies.

This guide is by no means meant to be authoritative and won't work in every circumstance. I accept no responsibility for what happens if you use any scripts and it goes horribly awry. But I did want to share some of my personal experience in this vein, as someone with a great deal of conservative people in my life whom I generally love and respect and would like to maintain a civil relationship with (and, hopefully, bring them back to center if not my side). I've had decent luck with these strategies in the past.

First: Only engage if it is safe to do so.

Do not get into political discussions that might endanger your job, your living situation, your access to care, or your physical and emotional safety. However, do engage if you are able to do so safely and your doing so might help someone in a more vulnerable position. What the fuck is privilege for if not using it to protect people?

Second: Identify your goal.

Do you want to de-escalate a situation so someone can get out of immediate danger? Do you want to establish a boundary? Or do you want to actually attempt to convert someone over to your side? Each goal has different tactics. Be realistic with yourself about what you're going to accomplish. If you do not have a close relationship with the person, you are extremely unlikely to change their mind about anything, and it's frankly not worth the effort. Let someone who is close to them do that work. De-escalate, set a boundary if possible, and gtfo.

But if you do have a close relationship -- if this person generally likes and respects you -- then you might have a shot at challenging their views.

We're going to assume a scenario where you're dealing with people you know and who you can generally count on not to be immediately aggressive. Somebody else will be better-equipped to talk about strategies for dealing with protests and people on the street etc.

De-Escalation & Setting Boundaries

This is your first line of defense against family members acting shitty. If someone tries to start a debate, makes an off-color joke or comment, or is otherwise behaving inappropriately, try:

Let's not talk about this over dinner.

I don't think this is appropriate conversation right now.

That's an awful thing to say.

I don't understand that joke, can you explain why it's funny?

I'm sorry, I won't listen to any more of this (leave the room)

That's not okay.

What you want to do here is make an appeal to correct standards of behavior. You want them to feel ashamed for acting out of line. In order to make this work, it is essential that you:

Remain calm and keep an even, light-but-firm tone of voice. It needs to be clear that you're not joking around, but you also cannot sound upset. (Yes, this is really hard. I'm sorry.) Practice your very best "I'm not angry, just disappointed" tone for maximum effect. If you can manage it, eye contact and a neutral or even slightly concerned or sad expression will make it even better.

Avoid insulting or attacking them. Do not say things like, "Stop being an asshole" or "I can't believe you're acting like this" no matter how much you want to. Do not say "That's racist/sexist/ableist/homophobic." These types of replies, no matter how accurate, will make them defensive, and defensive people shut down and stop listening. If you come off as angry, that gives THEM permission to be angry right back. But if you come off as the normal one, them getting angry makes them look like a dick.

Do not laugh. Avoid the urge to chuckle nervously or joke it off. It WILL feel uncomfortable. It WILL be awkward as fuck. That's the point. They are misbehaving by violating a standard of appropriate behavior, and you are setting down a boundary. The awkwardness will fade and, frankly, they'll often start behaving better pretty much immediately.

Follow through on your consequences. If you say, "Dad, if you continue to bring up Trump, I will not call you anymore," you have to stick to it. Holding firm to your boundaries is HARD AS FUCK but if you don't do it then all you do is teach them that they can wear you down. Think of it like training a dog. Consistency is key.

You're not going to change anybody's closely-held beliefs with this strategy, but you WILL make a case for what is allowable around you. If you model this behavior, and encourage and embolden other people you know to do the same, you might be surprised. A lot of times, people's inappropriate behavior is a boundary-testing mechanism -- they tell the racist joke because they want to see if they can get away with it -- and if you shut them down, they often just...stop. Or at least retreat into their little hole to talk to fellow gremlins instead of you.

Challenging Views, Changing Minds

Okay. You actually want to engage them in conversation. You want to challenge their views and help them change their opinion. How do you do that?

Again, it's essential that you remain calm. If you can't have this discussion without getting heated, it's not the time to have the discussion. If they start to get heated, be prepared to de-escalate and walk away: "I cannot continue this conversation with you right now. Let's talk again some other time when we've cooled off."

But if you can keep calm, here is what actually works (sometimes):

Listen to them. No, really. Hear them out.

Help them feel heard by empathizing with them. Repeat back your understanding of what they said and how that must feel.

Remind them that for other people, THEY are feeling xyz emotion, too.

Ask them questions. Instead of telling them they're wrong, ask questions that will lead them to draw that conclusion themselves.

Make appeals to emotion rather than starting with facts and logic. You'll know what kind of emotion to draw on because you've been listening to them and empathizing. Hint: almost always, bigotry (at the personal level) is rooted in fear.

If this is going well, THEN you can start citing some sources, statistics, and facts.

Invite them to share THEIR sources with you.

Thank them for doing such a good job at being calm and discussing this with you, reaffirm your close relationship, and encourage them to come talk to you about this at any time. It's very possible that you are the only person they might feel safe bringing this stuff up to now and you want to keep that channel of communication open.

Very often (not always, or often), conservative-leaning individuals are people who lack the education or knowledge that left-leaning people do. They may be accustomed to being insulted, yelled at, and made to feel stupid. They are conditioned to believe that folks on the left are smug, holier-than-thou, stuck-up assholes. Whatever you can do to poke a hole in that perception will simultaneously make it easier to talk to them AND cause them to question that rhetoric the next time they encounter it.

This tactic won't always work. It probably won't work at all the first conversation. It's something you'll have to chip away at over time. But sometimes, it's worth it.

And if it's not? Well. As they say.

[mylifeisfruk4ever]

"You finally showed up!" Harley Quinn exclaimed as she saw Batman storm into her house. " Three weeks, Batsy! What took you so long?!"

It was almost ridiculous to be scolded as if he were the one who helped Poison Ivy escape from Arkham, but the vigilante was honestly speechless.

"Three weeks?" he repeated, maintaining an I am the night tone of voice, so as not to appear too stupid. "Poison Ivy escaped last night."

Harley Quinn snorted, "Seriously? That's what you're here for? Come on, you should get your priorities straight, Batsy! Red is no threat!"

He wanted to remind her of the doctors and the various guards who ended up in the hospital because of her non-threatening girlriend, but now his curiosity was now completely hooked. 

“What else would I be here for?” he asked, as Harley's hyenas gave a long yawn and went back to sleep. They were getting old: once upon a time, they would have attacked him without any hesitation.

Or maybe they didn't see him as a threat to their mistress, and honestly, he didn't know what he'd rather think.

“What about 5'3, black hair, big name, young enough to call CPS?”

Faced with his silence, she raised her arms in the air, "I don't believe it! Then you really don't know anything! Selina actually told me, but I didn't want to believe it. What kind of parent…"

"Parents?" he interrupted, perhaps finally managing to find some logic in all that mess. “Did you kidnap a child?”

"I wasn't kidnapped!" a new, painfully young voice spoke up. "I followed Miss Quinn of my own free will!"

[venusindelusion]

Giving In (to the Love): Too Sweet

3rd chapter

SUMMARY: Being in charge of someone's education was heavier than you thought, but tonight doesn't have to be all about books and notes. PAIRING: Vi (Arcane) x Fem!Reader WK: 4K WARNINGS: bit of angst, mentions of alcohol, cursing A/N: slow slow slow burn Second chapter

After that encounter in the cafeteria you're left feeling nervous and mad, how could she make fun of you so lightly? Didn't her sister told her you weren't the one giving her booze?

You decide to skip your next lesson and head straight home. Once you're inside the elevator, you look for your phone inside your bag and send a text to Caitlyn asking her what time is she coming over.

The elevator stops at your floor and while you're searching for your keys, you see Caitlyn standing in front of your apartment door, carrying some bags on one hand and the other one typing on her phone.

"I didn't know you were here." you say as you approach her, smiling and looking curiously at her bags.

"I wanted to surprise you but I forgot to bring the spare keys you gave me." she says as you turn the key around and open the door.

Once inside, Caitlyn leaves the bags on the table and takes out the fast food she had bought, preparing everything for both of you to eat lunch together. You get into the bathroom and wash your hands and face, then look into the mirror; you felt like shit, and you could feel your mind spinning a thousand miles a second— guilt was cursing through your veins and you couldn't help but wonder what it was about.

Except you did know.

You grab a towel and dry both your hands and face, feeling like cold water didn't do much to your anxiety so you get out of the bathroom and sit in front of your best friend at the table. Both of you start chatting about your day; she tells you that her boss, Marcus, had been driving her crazy all day long until she finally found those papers he was asking for and then let her off for the day. You told her about all the exams you had to grade and then mentioned that Violet's was in that pile too.

"So you took revenge, huh." she says jokingly and chuckles.

"In my defense, it was a mess anyway and," you feel your stomach tied up in a knot, thinking if it was really okay for you to tell her— no, to do it entirely, "now I have to tutor her, so the universe punished me for it already."

You can't decipher what her expression means while she's looking at you but she keeps chewing on her food and laughes lightly. The awkwardness doesn't leave your body and you start thinking you may be going insane, why did you think so much of it? It was just tutoring.

"If it makes you feel any better, she's smarter than she gives on."

What was supposed to make you feel relieved just had the opposite effect. You didn't know they were that close, Caitlyn never mentioned her before that night and now it felt like she was keeping more from you than she might be telling. She is supposed to be your best friend, why wouldn't she tell you she was seeing someone if they were that close?

Food already eaten, you get off your seat and clean the table, grabbing the remaining leftovers and putting them in the fridge for later. You felt a bit sad, and maybe jealous. There was a part of Caitlyn's life you weren't aware of and, for some reason, now you were afraid to ask.

Working after classes sucked, but what sucked even more was having to look for someone who could cover her at work; it couldn't be just anyone. She wouldn't care if the place belonged to someone else and her life didn't literally depend on it, but "The Last Drop" was hers to take care of now. Well, almost.

"Can't pick you up today, Powder." she says, holding her phone on her ear with one hand and organizing bottles on the shelf with the other. "Come straight home, okay? I don't want you messing around again."

Violet could hear her younger sister complaining on the phone about how controlling she was and what plans she already had that night with her friends. It was always the same argument so she let Powder vent about it while she was rearranging the expensive bottles' shelf, hoping that the old wood would resist the weight and not make her lose thousands of dollars. She needed to replace those shelves.

"Look, Pow-pow," holding her phone between her neck and shoulder, Vi kept on trying to convince her sister, "bring Ekko if you want, I could use his help anyway."

With her little sister convinced, Violet put down the phone on the bar and looked over the place; everything needed to be done and she was already feeling tired, both physically and mentally.

All day she had been going around, signing papers and then attending classes. The only time in the day she could actually relax— or unleash some stress, was in the ring; throwing punches, sweating, analyzing her opponent's movements just to finally bring them down. She felt capable, strong and even good at it.

But this? Going to college, watching over her sister, working and barely sleeping; that was hard. It felt impossible at times.

"You've got a good heart," she remembered her father saying, "don't ever lose it. No matter how the world tries to break you."

Those words were like fuel for her, that memory has kept her going for years and it still worked now. She had to bear, just a bit longer.

Violet grabbed her phone again and sent a text to Caitlyn, letting her know that she'd probably be busy the rest of the week because she needed to study. Hard. She got an instant reply, "We'll meet as soon as you can."

Feeling relieved, Vi sighed and continued cleaning and organizing everything at the bar. She was thankful for meeting Caitlyn, it was not long ago and she was already changing her entire life— is this how hope felt? It's been years since she had something to look forward to.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, The Last Drop was ready to be opened but still no one could cover for her. Hearing the keys from the backdoor alerted Violet that her sister was finally home, so she went to greet both Powder and her friend.

"I brought some donuts from work." said Powder, leaving the box on the table. "Although they're dry, that's why I got to bring them."

Violet grabbed one and muttered something about the donuts being dry indeed, but she shrugged it off and ate one anyway. She started her way back to the bar, Ekko following behind her and eating his own dry donut.

"Powder told me about your tutoring lessons," he said as he was chewing, "I can cover for you here, you know."

"I didn't ask."

"I'm offering." he replied as soon as he saw his friend's expression, she was clearly uncomfortable and unexperienced when it came to receiving some extra hands. "C'mon, Vi. I know how the business works and I can handle tough costumers."

Violet had to think about it for a bit; it's true that he knew how the bar worked and handling drunken men wouldn't be a problem for him— if anything, God help the idiot who dared to mess with him, but she had never left anyone to run the place without supervision, not even her sister. However, she didn't really have any other option, she couldn't afford to close for even one night. Those debts wouldn't pay themselves.

"Be puntual, no drinking while working and no letting Powder steal any booze, got it?"

"Got it."

She gave him a nod and finished her donut, then went to the back to let Powder know that she was going to be busy the rest of the night. After a short speech about being responsible, helping Ekko and making her swear that if anything came up she would call her immediately, Violet made her way upstairs and into the apartment.

It was strange having some free time on her hands, she was used to running around and work all night until late, but she figured it was a well deserved break; although she was worried about leaving Ekko and Powder in charge of the place.

"She's ready," Violet thought to herself, it was about time to give her sister more credit. She deserved it, after all; Powder was way smarter than most people, only lacking in concentration but that's normal for a teenager, and Vi wouldn't want her little sister feeling like she had to behave like an adult so soon.

Headed towards the bathroom, Violet decided she could use a hot shower and got inside the bathtub, filled it up with water and added her sister's bath salts into it. She had never tried them, but Powder was always telling her about how relaxed she would feel after if she tried them, so she did. And maybe it was because she was completely drained of energy, but it felt like they were working.

She could feel her body relaxing, her shoulders no longer tense and her eyes blinking heavily— these salts were like magic.

Once she finished cleaning and drying her body, she walked into her bedroom and chose some comfortable pants and a big sized T-shirt, then some bandages for her knuckles; today's training had been more intense than usual and she had forgotten to clean her wounds and covering them.

Back into the living room, Violet turned on the TV and laid down on the couch. This was the whole day off experience, now she just had to wait for her new tutor to text her so she could let her in.

Except, she didn't ask nor she gave her number, but there was no time to think about that as her eyes started closing on their own until she fell profoundly asleep.

The sun was already going down and Caitlyn had already left your place, wishing you good luck and telling you to let her know once you were back safe and sound. After taking a shower, you go to your room and decide what to wear; you weren't sure if you were supposed to dress comfortable or as if you were going out— it was a bar, after all. You remember Violet saying she would close the place so you could study at peace and decide to wear some casual but cute clothes, then grab your bag and turn off all the lights. Once you're out of your apartment, you grab your phone and attempt to send her a text, but she never gave you her number, and you didn't gave her yours. You shrug it off and think that she must surely remember you were going over and call the elevator.

You decide you would walk to the bar instead of calling a cab, it was a beautiful night and you were still going to arrive earlier than expected, hoping the walk would calm your nerves even a little. It was the first time you had to tutor someone, you were used to grading exams and doing other academic work but being in charge of someone's education felt heavier than that, specially when you were asked to do it by Viktor; he was more than a professor to you, you looked up to him and you wanted to be as smart and dedicated as he was. It was clear you didn't want to let him down, that's the only reason you accepted in the first place.

The Last Drop was near now and you could see all the lightning coming out from the inside, strong neon colorful lights illuminating even its surroundings outside, the big shiny sign spelling its name and announcing the beggining of your night with your new student. Sighing heavily, you open the door and let the loud music penetrate your ears, you could smell the scent of cigars and sweat, people sitting in different tables chatting and drinking. You were confused now, this seemed far from being closed and you couldn't see Violet anywhere. Walking over to the bar counter, you can see the barman working hard as he was preparing two drinks simultaneously while receiving more orders from group of girls who were clearly going to keep him busy.

"Excuse me—" you say lifting up your finger in an attempt to get his attention, but he doesn't even flinch. "Excuse me!" you yell a bit louder and he turns around to look at you.

"Hey, what are you having?" he asks now looking at you.

"I'm looking for Violet. She works here, right?"

"Oh, you must be her tutor." he says while smiling, you give him a small nod. "That door back there," you follow his finger pointing to an old wooden door, "go upstairs and knock on your left."

Thanking him, you walk over to the door he pointed and read its sign "Personal Only", feeling a bit odd about crossing a forbidden door, you twist the knob and walk upstairs; it was a small place, you could feel the humidity on your skin and the lightbulb over your head twinkling like begging to be retired, the stairs were squeaking under your steps until you were finally facing the left door the barman had mentioned. You knock on it twice and wait, although a few minutes pass by and no one answers, so you knock three times and yell Violet's name. Still no answer. You hear some steps coming from the stairs and turn your head around.

"No answer?" moving her blue haired braids behind her shoulders, she shoves her hand inside her pockets and takes out a key. You greet her as she opens the door and lets you in first, chuckling for no apparent reason to you and leaves her keys on the table. You leave your bag on the same spot, feeling a bit uncomfortable being at someone else's house, someone you don't know that didn't even open the door for you. Maybe she forgot you were coming. "Vi, wake up!" you heard Jinx yelling.

Peaking to where the yelling came from, you see Violet laying on the couch with one leg spreaded and her feet touching the floor. She shuffles while her sister keeps yelling at her and then opens her eyes, looks at Jinx and then at you. Her eyes open wide and she sits straight on the couch, rubbing her eyes and murmurring, "I fell asleep."

"Yeah, no shit." her sister answers while she opens the fridge and takes out a bottle. "I'll be downstairs, bye." she opens the door and leaves both of you alone.

"Sorry, I wasn't planning on sleeping," she says now looking at you.

"Well, we should begin." you sit down at the table and watch her sitting in front of you. She handles you a glass of water and you softly thank her, taking a sip and feeling your throat was more drier than you noticed, your hands were shaking as you grabbed everything you brought from your bag; some books, your own notes and her failed exam.

"Cait said you're good at this," she says, "so please enlighten me." the smirk she gives you makes you both furious and nervous, you couldn't figure if she was really taking this seriously.

You decide to be the bigger person and ignore all her snarky comments so the lesson could begin. To your surprise, she took in everything you told her and she was a quick learner as well; listening carefully to your explanations and even taking her own notes, asking questions about the book and what she lacked in the exam. You tell her she should focus more on certain chapters and the logical part of the subject because, even though Viktor appreciated debates on his classes, his exams put emphasis on the scientific part and not so much on the student's interpretations.

As you continue the lesson, you start to think Caitlyn was right— Violet was way smarter than you thought.

Both of you decide to take a little break from studying and she brings snacks, putting the books and notes aside, she asks, "So how do you know Cait?"

"We've been friends since highschool, " you answer, "she was running some sort of campaign so each class could vote for a delegate or something. She convinced me to sign and we're inseparable since then." Violet laughs at that and makes you smile.

"Sounds like her." Curiosity got the best out of you and you ask her the same question. "Well, we—" someone opens the door, it was the barman. He starts telling Violet he needed her help with a drunk costumer, saying he was getting violent and couldn't calm him down. "Be right back." she says and leaves with him.

You sit there eating chips and waiting for her to be back, but then half an hour passed and you were feeling like a soldier's wife. Worry grows in the back of your head, what if something happened to her? Violet looked strong but that drunk violent customer could be stronger, and she didn't seem like the type of girl to walk out of a fight.

Unable to deal with your own head, you get off your seat and walk to the door. Just when you were about to twist its knob, the door suddenly slides wide open, startling you. It was Violet, standing in front of you, a bit sweaty but generally unharmed; she was so close to you, the air leaving out of her mouth when she apologized for taking so long felt like a fresh breeze against your face and you couldn't stop starring at her little scar on her upper lip. You wonder how she got that one and if she had any other somewhere on her body.

Before you could shake that thought off, you realised she might have noticed your stare because she licked her lip, just where the scar was, and smirked. Blood rushing to your cheeks, you turn your gaze somewhere else and say, "It's okay, I was just worried..."

"Come." she says and starts walking downstairs. You follow her steps into the bar, still feeling embarrassed, and at the end of the stairs you notice the overwhelming silence compared to the loudness of music when you first arrived. The bar was now closed and empty, just the two of you there. She goes behind the counter and grabs a bottle of whisky, pouring it into two glasses while you walk around to take a better look at the place. Warm lighting was on now that the neon lights were off, beautifully illuminating the decorated walls; pictures with different people on it hanged on them, most had a very muscular and tough looking man smiling with someone— you couldn't recognize anyone, but you could tell they were close to each other and that moment was definitely worth immortalizing on a frame. There were also drawings clearly made by a child, full of colours and love and joy, and you see one with two girls in it; a pink haired one with boxing gloves on her hands, fighting some sort of wolf while the blue haired one was cheering on her, a little toy monkey by her side. It made you smile.

"Powder made them." Violet says behind you, scaring you off a bit. She approaches you and hands you a drink, standing beside you now.

"Is it Jinx or Powder?" you ask sipping a bit of your whisky, you can feel it burning your throat and your nose scrunches making Violet chuckle.

"Powder, but everyone calls her Jinx." she answers, "Stupid nickname."

You hummed and watched her going behind the bar counter again, so you decide to sit in one of those fancy tall seats in front of her. You put your glass down and she refills it then her own.

"What happened to the violent costumer?" you ask.

"Kicked his ass and sent him home." she sips her whisky like it's juice, meanwhile you're already feeling dizzy. Strong liquor shouldn't be near you but you couldn't refuse when she refilled your glass again. You had to admit, her presence was strong; she was someone you couldn't ignore if she walked into a room, it's like her confidence drawn you in, clouding your senses and making you want more. It didn't exactly help that she was hot as hell. Still, you couldn't get out of your head the fact that the night you met her, she had been locked up in the bathroom with your best friend.

Both of you keep drinking and chatting, your curiosity growing stronger as you ask her if she runs this place all on her own, feeling pity when she answers, "Yes, been on it since my dad died."

Doubting a little but feeling the booze cancelling your inhibitions, you ask her, "What happened to him?"

"He got sick, " her expression changes, her jaw clenches and she takes another long sip at her glass, you watch the liquor going down her throat and then she speaks again, "it was a few years ago, Powder was still a child."

"And you?" you could feel your stomach tied up in a knot.

"Someone had to take care of things." she says while looking to the wall filled with pictures and drawings, her face seemed calmed like she was already used to this kind of life but you couldn't stop the sadness. "When he was in bed, he used to do these animal-like groans because of the pain, " surprisingly she smiles at that, "Powder used to say he sounded like a wolf."

You couldn't take it anymore and started sobbing, Violet looked at you surprised and then laughed, which made you feel embarrassed.

"Don't laugh, I'm already drunk." you tell her, rubbing your eyes and looking at her with your eyes furrowed.

She walks out from behind the counter and keeps laughing, standing beside you and helping you off your seat, she says, "Can't take strong booze, cupcake?"

That dumb nickname made your face go on fire, it didn't help that she was grabbing your waist to help you keep your balance and you could smell her scent, a mix of whisky and perfume, the warmth of her body next to yours as she was guiding you upstairs again.

"You'd know that, " you tell her, trying so hard to put one feet in front of the other, "you took a pic of it."

Violet opens the door to her place and helps you inside, she walks you to her bedroom and watches you sitting down on her bed. She leaves you there and you take a look at the room, it was tidy and well organized; her night stand had a frame of Powder, herself and their father. She comes back with a cup of coffee and hands it to you, looking at you expectantly. You take a sip of the coffee and make a face of disgust.

"I don't drink coffee."

"Yeah, I can tell." you answer her, still drinking that disgusting liquid she dares to call coffee. You can feel her gaze burning on you, the concern in her eyes even if she was making fun of you, it made your heart soften.

"Stay here tonight, I'll sleep on the couch." she says and puts her hand on your shoulder.

You inhale heavily, trying to ignore the sensation of her touch, even something as small as a reassuring hand is clouding your senses now. It wasn't just the booze anymore.

"Can't you sleep in your sister's room?" you ask her, trying to put your mind somewhere else.

"That's a rat nest," she chuckles and crunches her nose, "sleeping outside is safer." You hand her the empty cup and lay down, covering your legs with the sheets, her scent was impregnated in the pillow. Violet was still looking at you, her face inexpressive.

"I never gave your sister booze, " you say and she looks at you confused, "the other night, at the party, it wasn't me."

"I know," she closes her eyes and sighs, "that's just Powder testing my patience."

"An apology would be good," you say jokingly and she chuckles.

"You know what?" she smirks and raises one eyebrow, "If your tutoring is that good and I pass my exams, I'll take it down." You laugh and tell her that you shouldn't be punished for her stupidity, so she pretends to be offended and punches you softly. She watches you blinking heavily and stands up, turning the lights off and stopping at the door frame, "Good night, cupcake."

Humming in response, you close your eyes and let sleep take over you, ignoring the vibrations coming from your phone.

TAGS: @pokiiks

[honeyjars-sims]

3.36 Left the Building

Later that night, I remember what Lexie said about not letting any opportunities to get away from me and decide I should try to find a way to get Lacey alone.

I just can't find the right moment. It seems like one of us is always heading off into our tent for a nap or busy eating or caught up in conversation with someone else.

It doesn't help that Lexie keeps looking at me expectantly. It feels like everyone else is waiting for me to make my move and having all eyes on me just adds to the pressure.

At one point we're all gathered around the campfire when Lacey starts asking Paul about school.

"Are you planning on staying at Foxbury for med school?" she inquires.

"No, actually I was accepted into Sequoia State," he explains. "I'm going to take my last few courses at Foxbury over the summer, then I'm moving here in the fall."

"Oh, that's cool! I guess we'll be seeing you around more then."

I feel my stomach drop a bit and decide I should intervene before Lacey and Paul start making plans together. Lacey starts coughing and I seize the opportunity.

"I could use some fresh air," I break in. "Sounds like you could, too, Lacey."

"Yeah, that would be nice," she replies, and we walk away from the others.

"I hope you don't mind that I singled you out, but I thought you could use a break from the smoke," I tell her.

"Oh, no, that's fine," she responds. "Actually, I was hoping we would get the chance to be alone."

"You were?"

"Don't act so surprised," she says, a smile spreading across her face. "I thought it was obvious I was into you."

"Well, I guess I wasn't sure. Actually, I thought you might be interested in Paul."

She wrinkles her nose. "Paul? He's nice and all, but he's not really my type. He can be kind of a dork sometimes."

"He's not that bad," I say before realizing I'm defending the guy I've been insecure about. "Anyway, what is your type?"

"Well, I like a guy who can make me laugh. Someone who's comfortable being himself and goes for what he wants."

This would be the perfect moment for me to ask her out or kiss her or something, but none of that happens. Instead we're interrupted by the ungodly sound of someone retching their guts out behind us.

We turn to see Lucy hunched over and violently expelling the contents of her stomach onto the ground. Any chance of a romantic moment happening tonight is effectively ruined.

We walk back towards the others, who are gathered around Lucy in concern.

"Are you okay?" Paul asks her. He runs down a list a symptoms but Lucy denies that anything's wrong.

"I'm fine, really," she insists, like she hadn't just recreated a scene from The Exorcist in the middle of the woods.

"Oh, so you expelled the demon, then?" I ask.

"Yes, Pazuzu has left the building."

In the morning we start packing up and prepare to leave.

"So did you do it?" Lexie asks, referring to me asking Lacey on a date.

"No. I was about to, but then Lucy...you know. Kinda ruined the moment."

Lexie laughs. "Yeah, that would do it."

"But look, I need you to lay off a bit about Lacey," I say, kindly but firmly. "I know you mean well, but it's a lot of pressure."

"I'm sorry," she apologizes. "I know I'm being overzealous. I just want you to be happy."

"And I will be. I am. I had a rough few months, but I'm in a really good place right now."

"That's great! I guess I just felt guilty about everything. I hate that I hurt you."

"I know. But I don't even think about that much anymore. I mostly think about how much you cared about and supported me. Maybe your feelings for me weren't romantic, but they were still real."

"They were, and still are. You're like the brother I never had, and I miss you like crazy." She's starting to tear up, and I know now that whatever negative feelings I had about our breakup are gone. They left the building with Pazuzu.

"I miss you, too. I don't like not having you in my life." I wrap my arms around her. It feels nice having her in my arms again, but it's not a romantic feeling. It's more like the comfort of an old friend.

"I really do love you, Johnny."

"I love you, too, Lexie."

Previous | Beginning of story | Beginning of chapter | Next

[mister-mykal]

9-1-1 8x06 Thoughts on the Buck, Eddie, and Tommy of it all

Okay I have like almost no followers, which makes sense because I usually only normally lurk here. I'm also sure none of my followers are into 9-1-1 here, but I just need to scream into the void on the off chance someone sees this. None of my friends watch this show so I really just hope even just one person reads this and makes me feel a little less foolish because a lot of the discourse here is so "us vs them" and black-and-white. This is gonna be obnoxiously long, so I don't expect anyone to read all this, if any of it, but I'll put a TL;DR at the end. I will not be bashing Tommy or Eddie in this post! Also I'm typing while it's late for me and my ADHD makes me a horrible proofreader, so sorry for typos and the such.

I hate fandom drama, I cannot care less about whatever beef bucktommy stans and buddie stans have I've been trying to mostly ignore it. I'm just upset if this ends up being sloppy writing on the 9-1-1 team's part. I'm gonna try to be nuanced about how I felt about 8x06 because I feel like there is a way to do this and not completely screw the writing for either Tommy or Eddie.

Tommy does not have to be endgame, that is fine. I think Eddie is definitely more popular with the fans and plenty of people love a good slow burn. Their chemistry is also undeniable. But plenty of people enjoy Tommy too, despite his cavalcade of haters. And to have thrown away what seemed like a character arc in the making for him seems like a waste if this is the last we see of him? I hear he's going to be in at least one more episode, so I hope they do that justice. I don't need them back together, I just need this to make better sense.

I know people really hate Lou and Tommy, but I'm pretty neutral about him. (Idk how true the very little things I've see about Lou is because I keep hearing he's homophobic, misogynistic, racist, etc. but I have not be able to find any receipts. If it is true, that sucks and I get why they would try to write someone like that out of the show. However, just I'm gonna focus on it from purely a story perspective right now.) I enjoy seeing Buck happy after all the shit he's gone through in his past relationships. I was cautiously optimistic from the interviews that said he was finally "getting of the hamster wheel". But yet again, Buck loves with his whole heart and has his hopes dashed. It would have been one thing if Buck was the one who ended things, but really? This again? He doesn't need his heart broken AGAIN. I don't care who Buck ends up with, I just want him to be happy and secure with whatever partner he chooses.

Why bring back a previously established character who has some growing to do and then throw them away again? Boooo, if they wanted Buck and Eddie's queer awakening arcs to happen separately, and weren't interested in expanding Tommy's character, they should have just set up Buck with random throwaway guy. Otherwise it's just drama for the sake of drama instead of something that's in greater service to the narrative or character writing. Tommy becoming Eddie's friend first especially feels too intentional. Tommy already having established relationships with Hen, Chim, and Bobby feels too intentional.

Tommy's insecure feelings over Buck eventually choosing someone else, likely Eddie, over him is incredibly real and make sense. He's never felt like he's had a place to belong in general. He's jealous of the 118, he's jealous and threatened by Eddie's relationship with Buck. Honestly, I also wouldn't be surprised if Eddie was the one who caught his eye at first because it's not that hard to clock Eddie if we're being honest. It's pretty clear Tommy was baffled that Buck was fighting to get his attention over Eddie's. Why set up this arc and end it before it's even started? If there's a ever a starting point for Tommy to grow, it's right here and now. Otherwise it makes no sense.

At the same time, Eddie's character writing makes ZERO sense if he isn't a deeply closeted gay man (or at least asexual, but that's unlikely, especially with the way they've been positioning Buck and Eddie for the longest, and especially the way they position Eddie and the Hot That whole interaction with the hot priest and the mustache, beard, fruit juice, plenty of metaphor we all picked up on that. Never has an actual straight character said "no offense, I'm straight" like that within the context of the surrounding narrative. Like come on? Denying yourself FRUIT JUICE? Denying yourself joy?? which gay used to be a synonym for? Girl, please. And even with Josh's speech a bit? I think it's obvious enough that it could also be extended to Eddie, even though he's closer to Buck's age. Growing up Catholic is pretty rough for queer people.

On top of the fact that there are plenty of other hints while he did/does have love for Shannon, it was almost always in the context of that she is the mother of his child. He literally had a panic attack over someone mistaking Ana for his wife, and over their relationship starting to get serious. Ana is a lovely lady that most men that are attracted to women would be happy to have... so what's the issue, really? And then he only thinks about staying with her simply because she could be the new mother to his child. Be so for real.

And Eddie honestly has been pretty awful to the women he has dated, and you can either choose to read that as him being a chauvinistic, exploitative pig (doesn't really align with the rest of his character), or someone deeply in the closet who doesn't really want to be with a woman. (yeah, that's sounds more accurate.)

We can reconcile all of this though. Buck more than likely has romantic feelings for Eddie, I think it'd be silly to think otherwise, but even though Buck has figured out who he is, it doesn't mean Eddie has yet. He's made progress, but he has at least a little ways to go left. As far as Buck knows, Eddie is straight in this moment. He's never hesitated to write him off as his "best friend", while Eddie... well, he'll realize he's in love with Buck soon enough.

Still, I feel like it's a bit disingenuous to say that Buck doesn't care about Tommy at all, he is clearly hurt by the break up. At the very least, even if they don't get back together at all, they need to talk this out like adults and have Tommy explain himself better, because it's obvious Tommy has walls from from past experiences. Doesn't make it okay that he did Buck like that, but no one on this show has been perfect so... 🙄 At the very least we should get that one episode from that "See you around, Buck" (Ouch, Tommy. Though I feel like that was more so Tommy distancing himself to Buck to protect himself more than to hurt Buck.) Though just as easily, we might only ever see him here and there again on calls that require air support so who knows. 🤷🏾

There were some pretty obvious parallels set up between Abby and Tommy this episode. Abby and Tommy were both firsts for Buck, they're both around the same, older age. Both of them are experienced and life and deeply lonely, so how could they possibly turn away someone who has as much love to give as Buck does? Both of them are, seemingly, just stepping stones on Buck's way to self discovery. Buck even says it himself, he calls their relationships "transformative", but obviously because the experiences Tommy has had as an older queer man, he's probably not a stranger to beings someone's flyover until they get to their actual destination. I understand why he would want to protect himself like that.

Even if that's the case, I don't think Buck would want to leave things like this. I know in one of the interviews Oliver says Buck is be heavily considering if he wants to fight for this or not, but at the very least I hope they've shown his growth and showcase his emotional intelligence by calling out Tommy that it's not fair to him to sorta decide how he feels, even if it is Buck's first relationship with a man.

It's far from Buck's first relationship and idk, it feels a little icky to tell the bi person to go fool around a be a slut when he's said that he's tired of sleeping around and wants to settle down. That can just be a character flaw with Tommy (I've met plenty of biphobic monosexual queer people), but at the very least can't Buck call him out on it? Let them have a more mature, complete conversation and let Tommy say the quiet part aloud. At the very least, I get Tommy's intention, he doesn't want Buck to have any regrets, but I don't think he knows just how much he's hurt him and how many times he's been through the situation.

Something really upsetting, even though Tommy has had his problems and hasn't been the greatest person, really sad about any closeted queer person who's been nasty, but much of it came from circumstance, not getting a chance to grow after they literally set that up with the script. Well, you do you I guess. At the very least if Tommy is nothing more than a plot device, couldn't you have let Buck come to conclusion they should break up and give him even an ounce of power in his romantic pursuits for once? Instead of the one loving too hard and too fast and hurting from it? The interview where (I don't remember who exactly) said we wont be seeing much more of Tommy, if at all really annoys me because if this is it? Ugh. That break up didn't feel conclusive at at all.

TL;DR: Wasting a previously established character as a plot device after setting up what seemed like some sort of character arc for him even if he wasn't Buck's endgame seems like really sloppy writing if you decide to discard him back into the obscurity for the rest of the series. It feels like a cheap way to add extra drama and the implications and situations you could create from at least dragging this out a little bit more could create a more satisfying resolution to this at the very least. Why retread old ground again when you said that you wouldn't and waste all the potential you were setting this up with this scenario? It still seems unresolved, so hopefully this tie this up, regardless of who Buck ends with in the end (because the focus really should be on Buck finally getting the love and care that he deserves in a romantic relationship, or at least getting to end one amicably.)

Anyway tear me apart, ignore me, whatever. IDC anymore.

[saturnzoned]

i don't want you in my mind.

When we met Lisbon and Jane in season 1, we’re not exactly sure of the dynamic or how long this group has been working together. We know Grace is new, and seemingly, this is her first case. At this point in the early series, we don’t know the characters or what they’ll become over the first season leading into the second. ALL THIS TO SAY: this post is focusing on the shift in the Jane-Lisbon partnership over through the first season to early second second (through 2.03 Red Badge).

One moment I want to gleam on before going into this: Jane ‘reading’ Lisbon’s mind in episode 9, Flame Red. It’s a cute moment when Jane says Lisbon is glad he can’t actually read minds. It leads to this exchange.

Ending with Lisbon saying ‘Never you mind’, I think it’s a great little shot into how, at this point, she doesn’t want him in her head. 

I want to start by examining episode 10, Red Brick and Ivy. This is, as far as I know, the first mention of Jane being forcefully admitted to a psychiatric hospital. What’s neat about this storytelling is not only are we, the audience, first learning of this, but Lisbon herself is told by Jane for the first time. It’s something that’s not in his file. In a, I would say, faithful, maybe trusting moment, Jane lets someone know something about him. He’s guarded at this point - we basically just know his background with family and Red John, nothing really about the man. At this moment, Lisbon doesn’t judge him or ask why she didn’t know this. She simply says thank you for telling me. We see Lisbon’s face and how it studies Jane in a wonderfully acted moment. She’s grateful that he’s opened himself up a bit to her. This leads to building a more trusting relationship.

In episode 17, Carnelian Inc., we get a great moment, and probably, the moment that shifts their relationship (at least to this point). In conversation with each other, Lisbon admits she doesn’t really trust Jane and says he doesn’t trust her either. Jane is a little hurt by her accusation (in his Jane way). To remedy the situation, he suggests a trust fall. Lisbon eventually agrees to it - it’s another nicely acted moment. For me, it’s humorous to see Jane almost let Lisbon fall back completely before actually catching her. 

NOW onto the season 1 finale aka the first real sense of trust we see in their relationship. Honestly this is where I think I really fell in love with them as partners. I loved the dynamic before but this episode shines on them and it rubs off. Near the end of the episode, we see them having an argument about what to do with the information they have on Red John:

This might be obvious to longtime fans, but I didn’t know it was a plan or set-up until the end of the episode where she comes in to save him and the woman being held from Red John’s accomplice. We know Lisbon as the lawful, by the book type of detective. For her to go along with Jane's plan (loose wire), the trust she has in him for it to work must be significant. It’s a plan I don’t think she goes along with in the beginning of the season. The outcome here leads directly into season 2 (which we’ll see in a minute)

There’s also a moment after the Red John accomplice is caught where Lisbon and Jane have a conversation. He’s so wrapped up in this case that nothing else matters. He needs revenge for what was done to his family and, really, what was done to him having to live with the aftermath. It seems he’d die for Red John to be caught. At least we have the accomplice, Lisbon says. He’ll say what we need to know. She also doesn’t believe him: I think you choose life, she says. And she’s correct - we see it in the interactions he has with others (also the very end with him and the orange tree). It’s proven true just minutes later when Lisbon has a gun pulled on her by the accomplice - Jane comes forward with a shotgun and kills the man. The man who has the knowledge of Red John. All this to save his friend’s life because that’s what he chooses: Life!

We’re onto season 2 now - I mainly want to focus on a few moments before getting to episode 3, Red Badge. In the first one, we meet Lisbon’s old colleague Bosco. He’s been chosen to take over the Red John. We see this great exchange:

She does “go easy” on him and not just because he saved her life but because she trusts him now.

AND what could be clouding her judgment huh? The need to help her friend solve this case that consumes him? Because their relationship has changed over the season? He’s not just the consultant anymore. He’s her (and really the team’s) friend. 

In this next one, the roles from the season 1 finale are switched. Jane’s the one in trouble - Lisbon is too slow to her gun for the perpetrator so she can’t save Jane the way he saved her. Eventually this dude dies, and they use his corpse to get a confession. THIS WOULDN’T HAPPEN IN SEASON 1. I don’t think Lisbon goes along with the corpse plan without the season 1 finale happening with its moments. Their boss even tells her she’s drunk Jane’s Kool-Aid with her defense of how they at least solved the case. Progress!!!

ONTO RED BADGE - I didn’t know this episode would consume me and propel me to write this post before I even watch 2.04 (so keep in mind I’m not analyzing anything past this episode in the post). In the beginning, there’s a scene with Jane and Lisbon playing a version of cups (I guess I would call it). Jane says their minds are synced.

In this episode, Lisbon is framed for the murder of a child molester she helped put away. We learn that’s how she knows Bosco and earned the nickname ‘Saint Teresa’. This whole episode is important to the ever-shifting relationship between Lisbon and Jane. She can’t remember what she did the night of the murder so she enlists Jane’s help with hypnotization - it shows a great trust in him and his abilities. She’s opening herself up to be vulnerable with him. As I mentioned earlier in the post, there’s a scene in season 1 where she doesn’t want him to know what she’s thinking - she still doesn’t but, because of the trust established, she allows herself to be hypnotized.

WHICH LEADS TO another plan that only the two of them are in on!!! To try to lure the real murderer out, Jane has Lisbon pretend to be heavily medicated and have a breakdown in the office. Her old colleague Bosco is highly concerned - he doesn’t know it’s all fake!!!! It ends up working with the murderer coming to Lisbon’s house and describing the scene in a way only the murderer would know. Similarly to the season 1 finale, we don’t know this is all a plan until the end. Bosco is admittedly hurt by not being a part of the plan - he and Lisbon go back and he implies if it had been her he would’ve helped her out with the case. The episode ends with Jane getting Lisbon donuts from a shop she mentioned earlier in the episode - he listens! He also picks up on Bosco’s more than friendly feelings toward Lisbon and teases her about it. In my opinion, I think Jane and Lisbon have always been on decent terms and probably friendly with each other, but it’s taken to a new level with the new trust and shift of their relationship. I’m not sure how to exactly end this but if you’ve read this far - thank you! I’m excited to see how the rest of season 2 (and the series) plays out with their relationship!

[hodari-pavels-good-boy]

No okay so I could like POP OFF about all the little things that could be written off as quirks or just particularities if there was only one or two but when compounded together made me go OH. He's just like me fr 😭 (I am so sorry OP for hijacking your Autistic Hassian post bc you are so right and I could make a whole long ass post like this about him too. But I feel the need to spread the Hodari is also autstic and heres why propoganda)

-Food pickiness. He's sooo particular about what he eats, how its flavored, and even what he's willing to cook it on. Only spices from his hometown, only on a specific type of grill "no shortcuts", NO fish, same meals over and over again. There's also the underlying trend that undiagnosed adult men tend to lean towards that 'steak and potatoes' type food as a comfort food and while other characters will switch up the kind of food they want (change different entree type foods from soups to fish or sweets. Badruu, Chayne, and Ashura do this) Hodari almost always only will request steak dinner(or grilled meat i forget which lol) or sernuk stew. The food he'll gift you if you stop by at night for some "midnight meat" is also the steak. Man knows what he likes to eat and that's ALL he eats lol. (I also think its cute that he shows genuine concern if you tell him you don't eat breakfast and he forces you to take food and its just an egg lmaooo)

-He DOES find the town overwhelming. He tells the player he stopped coming in the evening and instead comes for lunch because its not busy and people wont talk to him. Even tells the player to leave him alone if they want to chat but if they want to eat lunch in silence with him they can pull up a chair. Kenyatta makes a comment about how "the miner and his daughter don't come into town much" and they don't talk a lot, assuming their house to always be silent. (lol. lmao even) He also only goes to the markets for Najuma. He doesn't like the noise and complains about the fireworks being "shot off every five minutes". While it is revealed by Najuma that he begrudgingly does enjoy coming, it's heavily implied that if left to his own devices he wouldn't be there. So sound and lots of people stress him tf out and he always seems significantly more 'gruff' during social situations like the market (swearing more "whole damn place smells like it"/kinda angry and screaming of sensory overload) or during town parties where he expresses discomfort than when talking to him when its just him

-Piggybacking off that, he NEEDS his alone time. He enjoys being down in the mines by himself where its just him and "the swing of the pickaxe. Nothing else matters". He also places really firm boundaries with the player if its too late and during his alone time that may come off as overly blunt or rude. "If you're here to talk to Najuma, go home it's past her bed time. If you're here to talk to me, don't". A valid boundary but can come across as a little harsh lol. especially in a game where most characters don't mind when you talk to them late at night or only have mild remarks of the time.

-Going off that, his social awkwardness. Not super apparent immediately when we first meet him because we can write it off as he's busy (he is lol) and we are new. However pretty quickly it appears he has a bit of a chip on his shoulder compared to the other villagers (except Hassian lol) even though his character profile in the beginning tells you he seems like a nice neighbor who is "always willing to lend a helping hand". And while his direct words to the player seem to contradict that, the other villagers talk very friendly about him even though it becomes apparent he doesn't treat or talk about them any different than he does the player. He's just 'like that' and they love him all the same. He also only considers Zeki a friend but from talking with the other npcs we know he has drinking contests with Sifuu, plays cards (and wins) with Ashura, and Badruu loves to tell him jokes to try and get him to laugh (and holds it as a personal point of pride when he finally does lol) and they all consider him a friend. He struggles to emotionally connect to his daughter even though we see its not through a lack of willingness or trying. He's a very good dad but there's a large emotional gap that neither of them seem to be able to cross even though they're both trying. And this is all BEFORE you romance him. If you romance him the awkwardness gets SO much clearer. He takes your gift but doesn't immediately accept or reject it bc he's overwhelmed and put into a situation he wasn't expecting and doesn't have an appropriate reaction set aside to use in that moment (The masking falls). He has to seek the player out later to explain he's not rejecting them but is clearly very uncomfortable the whole time. He struggles A LOT with emotional intimacy and has to give himself little pep talks, out loud, when talking with the player. He fears the closeness and refuses to put a label on anything "you do what you want to do and I'll do what I want". Once he's comfortable however, he IMMEDIATLEY switches to a pet name (as opposed to other characters like Reth or Jel who were comfortable using pet names before ever romancing them) and tries to win your affection. He bakes you a heart shaped quiche and takes you on a "date" (where its quiet, private, and not around other people. And not in a we need to hide way but in a 'see all of town is overwhelming bullet point' way) where he was so excited to see the player he forgets the food. He gets so in his head and awkward that his daughter has to interfere SEVERAL times throughout the course of the relationship. He gets fixated on small details and creates 20 (i think? A lot at least lol) pins.

-Rigid schedule. Okay so bc its a video game all the npcs have a set time they go to places and do xyz things so that cant inherently be used BUT Hodari is one of the only ones who's schedule is talked about. He goes to town for lunch every. day. even though he loves to cook and complains how much he hates the walk into town (Najuma also tells us he hates going into town for things). There are comments of the time he wakes up, and how Najuma even shudders at the idea of having to wake him up if he slept in accidentally even though he doesn't go to work in the mines during the mornings and has a few hours before he even goes to the workshop showing this is a very self imposed and relied upon schedule that throws him off really bad if its not kept to.

okay i could probably keep going but this is already really long and I feel bad enough I hijacked the post a bit lol

Was playing Palia, and as I was flirting with Hassian, I came to the headcanon that he is Autistic

Source: I am Autistic and I said so /lh

[wirewitchviolet]

That thing about 'the arc of history bending towards justice...'

I'm pretty sure I've gone on about this before, and I'm pretty sure I'm preaching to the choir, but I just had a well-intentioned acquaintance try to give an inspirational speech about American trans people's fears right now, and his heart was in the right place, but all his facts were wrong, in some really important ways. I feel like the perspective he has is the same one as... basically every decent person who isn't like, intimately familiar with WPATH, so please spread this around, and please if you only read one rambling history lesson from a trans person about the current state of things, make it this one.

So here's the big problem. Trans people get brought up in the mainstream media a LOT these days, but the framing is totally wrong. The impression people get is that there is presently a big push for new trans rights, where we want proper government recognition, and trans women in particular want to be able to use public women's restrooms, and play on girls-only sports teams, and a dozen other things. That is a lie you are being fed. These are all rights we ALREADY HAD, for decades. Possibly centuries depending what we're talking about specifically and where we're talking, even. The big issue right now is that a bunch of bigots just woke up one day about 10 years ago and decided that nothing else they were angling for was getting them anywhere with the general public, so hey let's make a boogieman out of this minority of a minority nobody knows the first thing about and act like all the horrors they're inflicting are just them enforcing some totally fictional status quo.

Speaking personally, I can say that The Trans Agenda in like 2014 was something like: 1- I'm gonna make a nice big pot of chili. 2- I'm gonna maybe replay some old video games from the '90s I haven't taken down off the shelf in a while. And OK maybe 3- It'd be cool if it weren't just the medical professionals who specifically specialize in trans stuff had enough of an education to know that when there's a difference in how a drug is going to effect men vs. women, it's for reasons directly tied to the levels of various hormones, or would at least trust their trans patients to know what we're talking about and not give us the wrong doses of things and maybe kill us as a result. And also like, treat us for regular things like broken arms (real example) without weirdly panicking about some prescription we're on they don't recognize.

There was absolutely not a point where some trans woman started petitioning the government or whatever to let her pee in a toilet with a little placard of a stick figure in a dress in front. We've just been doing that the whole time. Nobody's ever had a problem with that. You didn't know we were in there? OK. If I'm like at a restaurant and have to use the bathroom, I don't know how many of the other women in there have like, type O blood. I also don't care, and I think everyone would agree it was weird if I suddenly did care, and demand they post a guard out front asking to see driver's licenses. Just completely out of the blue some nutcases from the UK started foaming at the mouth and writing weird tabloid articles about their completely unfounded fears that... I don't even know. Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs might put on a wig and follow them into the bathroom, dose them with chloroform, and drag them to some basement dungeon through some series of secret passages or something.

This was based on literally nothing at all, to be clear. Like, people pushing for this went and did serious research for anything even anecdotal to back them up on this, and didn't actually find anything. Then they started walking into public restrooms with cameras throwing doors open on people and going "see? See? Some creep could totally do this if we don't ban trans people from using bathrooms!" And... somehow this got traction? I figure it's because coincidentally there was this whole other thing going where people were looking at how every building had equal numbers of men's and women's rooms and saying "you know, like, 90% of people who come in here are the same gender and we end up with really long lines, what if we just took the signs down and told everyone to just use whichever?" which... when it's happening at the same time Chicken Little is ranting and raving about the boogieman wearing a cheap wig, wires got crossed? And suddenly we've got waves of legislation passing all over about who's allowed to use what bathrooms with weird standards that'd involve like DNA tests to actually enforce properly. Absurd stuff.

Meanwhile, your average trans activist at the time was just like... sitting there eating a sandwich and going "huh, they're making a TV series based on Fargo? That's an odd thing to happen out of the blue. And yeah we started going "hey, what the hell?" when this stuff started passing because like... yeah that's what you do when you see an article in the local newspaper that says you can't go to the bathroom at work or whatever without swabbing your cheek and waiting for lab results for 3 weeks first or whatever.

Same deal with sports. Major sports organizations like the Olympics have been weirdly paranoid about men pretending to be women since 1950. And there have been, to the best of my ability to research... zero men who have actually done this. And while the weird standards used for this have been used to kick a good number of women out over the years, none of those women have been trans, for what that's worth. Really, the whole gender testing thing has only ever been used for horrifying stuff like forcing women to strip in front of random creeps, or let them do "invasive internal exams" and of course so many incidents where some woman who isn't white wins at something and people move the goalposts to in some way to get her specifically banned. You may be thinking, "wait didn't I just see a whole bunch of news coverage about someone getting banned after some gender testing thing? She was trans right?" No. You're thinking of Caster Semenya. She's a woman. A cis woman. F on her birth certificate, born with standard issue female genitals, has periods, all that. People are just being weird racists there and crossing the streams with random transphobia. That and just... half-reading stories and making stuff up.

To the best of my knowledge, the total count of trans athletes who have competed in the Olympics would actually be... three nonbinary people, who so far as I can tell all competed against people with the same gender they had on their birth certificates, nothing done medically, so, nobody should have any problem there. Caitlyn Jenner, who didn't come out as a woman until like... 40 years after competing, on the men's team, and Laurel Hubbard, the first and only trans woman to compete at the Olympics as a woman, who placed... dead last, flubbing all three of her lifts.

If we just look at sports in general, OK, there WAS one big famous where a trans woman wanted to compete in a major sporting event, was banned from it, took the organizers to court over it, and the eventual ruling was there was no reason at all she shouldn't be allowed to play against other women. Renée Richards. And this was all the way back in 1976. Nearly 50 years ago now.

And of course in more recent years, again, after a bunch of random bigots just completely out of the blue started losing their minds about trans people with no prompting and started lobbying for new laws banning us from all kinds of things nobody had had a problem with us doing forever, there was Mack Beggs, a trans guy, who was forced, by one of those aforementioned baffling reactionary new laws, to compete on his high school's girl's wrestling team. He didn't want to be there, they didn't want him to be there, but the law said hey, F on your birth certificate, we're classifying you as a girl despite how clearly wrong that is. And then there's been a bunch of other weird cases like that like one state banning trans girls from playing any sports with other girls which only affected one single girl in the entire state, who was playing lacrosse on a team that wouldn't have even existed if she hadn't personally organized it.

But the point here is, trans people aren't asking for anything here. We're just standing here, and people are flipping out and banning us from doing all these things without any prompting. And hell, I THINK this one got shot down in higher courts, but when Florida got the brain worms on this and started passing all the anti-trans legislation they could think of, they actually included a ban on us just standing there! The wording was something like (and I apologize that I can't find it, search engines are useless now), "if a child can potentially see someone who was assigned male at birth who is wearing women's clothes, it's considered sexual assault."

It's important to understand what's actually going on here, both because what's going on here is just plain terrifying, but also because there is this huge segment of the population who has this weird idea that people's rights only ever get better, there's just some weird arbitrary ratcheting where you have to take a number and get in line. Like, "hey, used to be only white men could vote, then eventually the Progress bar filled enough that we let white women start voting too. Then we had to wait for it to fill up again, hey, we're ending this whole segregation of black people thing. Gotta give it another 30 years or so to fill up, now hey, gay people can get married! Don't be impatient trans folks, you just need to stay in line and wait for it to fill again for your turn!"

That's not how anything has ever actually worked. It would frankly be absolutely insane if it actually did, but like, this is an idea people get in their heads because history textbooks really like to gloss over all the stuff that makes the country look pretty bad and promote this whole "stuff is just always getting better!" vibe. But no, sometimes, things just straight up get worse for people. Ten years ago I could go to the damn bathroom, I could have social media accounts, I could access all the medications I need to live, I could safely set foot in any given state in the country... at least if I kept some witnesses around at all times to verify I was not in fact hitting on my would-be murderer in any of the black states on this map.

The problem is NOT that with Trump in power, the pause button is getting hit on trans people climbing towards some state of finally getting to be regular people. We were (largely) already there, and there's been a huge push over the past decade to strip that away from us. And Trump plus the rest of the Republican party in general have made very specific promises to make that way worse real real soon, including several things that will straight up kill a ton of us.

Like, when I'm talking about losing access to necessary medical treatments, I'm not talking about "THE SURGERY" and magic pills that give you boobs or beards. A lot of trans people are trans because there's weird medical stuff that in addition to messing with what does and doesn't grow mess with things like whether your blood flows properly and whether various organs do what they should. Just one of those many things the average person doesn't know, because everything written about us is from deranged bigots making crap up.

[callistosystems]

Severe tooth decay, Call for help.

Over the past several years I've had to deal with steadily worsening tooth decay and tooth damage. I live and grew up in poverty and haven't had dental insurance for as long as I can remember, so I could never afford to get any of the problems fixed and they've piled up to the point where now I have no choice but to go for emergency dental work. The only thing that has stopped me up to this point was that I wasn't in pain. That's changed. Two of my more damaged teeth have become abscessed, and others are at risk. I'll go into more detail below but I would recommend avoiding that segment if you're squeamish about dental issues. I've been prescribed antibiotics and painkillers, and I'm going to have emergency dental work done. I'm looking at at least 3 pulled, more likely 4. I will stress: I DO NOT HAVE DENTAL INSURANCE. I will be forced to take this on as medical debt, while I'm unemployed and between concrete homes. I'm making the decision to ask for help if anyone is able to provide it. I'll be accepting donations to help put a dent in the bill, my paypal email is "Calabel831@gmail.com". Any amount helps, everything I receive will be used exclusively to reduce the bill I'll be forced to pay. If you have the time I would appreciate if you could reblog this to help get the word out. (CW: Tooth decay and Damage described in detail. Don't read past this point if that bothers you.) The full extent of the damage to my teeth is much more severe than a couple of infected ones, but for the most part it can be put off. Right now I'm worried about the ones that have broken or split open deeper than the enamel, exposing the inside of the tooth itself. I have three, possibly four teeth that are damaged to this extent. My upper right canine and upper right back molar are two of them. These two are the infected ones, and the ones causing me pain. My bottom back left molar is split open with half of the cap missing and the inside exposed, this one was broken by my wisdom tooth, both of which have fully grown in. It's probably at the greatest risk of infection out of the rest of my teeth. My upper back left molar is in a similar state, but not as damaged. Aside from those most of my front teeth are severely crooked and many of them have extreme enamel damage, one of them has lost it's entire front facing surface, and the inside of these teeth under the enamel has turned completely black. These will probably all either need to be pulled or require root canals for the ones I intend to keep, but that can wait just a bit longer until I'm in a better living situation. My upper canines, including the infected one, have been shunted up into and are sticking out of the front of my gums. Both are going to wind up being removed eventually, as well as my lower right canine which is severely decayed. My lower left is in decent shape and I'll probably be able to keep it. If there's any doubt or skepticism that this is as bad as it sounds, I would be more than happy to provide images if they're requested of me. I would ask that those stay private, I'm extremely self-conscious about this issue. TL;DR I need thousands of dollars worth of dental surgery. Some of it is severe enough to be threatening to my health or even life and I need help to pay for the medical bills.