#a real sentence I actually said about myself recently and now I am once again proving true

[abysskeeper]

Me then: Ah, this'll be like a quick...2k fill for the idea and I can expand on it later

Me now, just shy of 5k and still going: So I have underestimated myself once again...

[leonstamatis]

these are really good questions so I’m going to throw a ton at you, feel free to choose which of them you actually want to answer

2, 7, 20, 40, 47, 65, 81, 93!

yeah!! i actually really love these questions i think they're great. good list. thank you hedge <3

2. talk about a notable time a narrative or character has looked you dead in the eyes and said “fuck your plan, here’s what we’re actually doing.”

oh this happens to me plenty. i tend to have very detailed outlines as a rule, so there's not a lot that catches me off-guard in terms of plot. but actually there's a wip i've got going right now where the first scene is, currently, 3.2k and counting -- which is absolutely fucking unheard of for me, a person who doesn't write scenes over 2k if i can help it. but the characters involved just kind of grabbed me by the shoulders and said, there's still things to say and do here, it's not time to move on yet. it does tend to happen the most in terms of length of the overall fic; the recent d&d movie fic i did was supposed to be a five times fic, and it is... aggressively longer than that.

7. tell us about the plot of the first fanfic you ever wrote

when i was in first grade, i wrote a story about the flowerpuff girls. like the powerpuff girls, but they were flowers, instead. i think this is hysterical, because it's very much in line with my interests today. i didn't know that was fanfic though; if we're talking about my first intentional fanfic attempt, i used to post self-insert naruto fanfic on quizilla, a sentence that ages me significantly every time i type it.

20. what is your favorite trope to write?

i don't tend to set out to write tropes, actually, so this is hard to answer. part of me wants to say mutual pining, but in terms of classically written tropes, i don't think i've ever really... done that? i've been doing a lot of found family and nontraditional platonic friendships, though, so probably that.

40. best piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten.

someone made the comment to me once that reading my fic was like walking through exhibits at a museum. i think of that often and i hold it very close to my heart.

47. what story are you most proud of?

forcing myself to answer this one a second time. i am really proud of killing the minotaur, largely because it provided the motivation to start working on other projects again and to stop caring as much about getting things wrong. it isn't perfect. but it's good.

65. what is your favourite title for a fic you’ve written? 

reciprocity!! i've been saving that title for literal years and i just. was so pleased and delighted to finally have a reason to use it. es my beloved.

81. if you could go back in time and give your younger self a piece of writing advice specific to you, what would it be?

"it doesn't have to be perfect, it can just get done." this is a battle i fight with myself almost every time i write, and it always has been. i think i used to be better about just posting whatever, but there's always been some amount of "it has to be exactly what's in my head to be worth it," which isn't true or fair to do to myself.

93. do you hear other people’s writing styles when they talk?

sometimes! there are certainly friends where i can pick up on things they write that they also tend to say a lot in real life. i do have to know someone pretty well to do it, though.

[sdqhtxt]

cognitive dissonance

i'd like to think i wasn't stupid, but sometimes the decisions i make are bordering on brainless if not just actively harmful to myself. how have i already felt like i've fucked up a little bit too much after it's been barely two months into 2024? tbh though, i feel like i think that a lot of things could work a lot better if i just learnt to put in care into things that were worth it. i care really, but maybe not just for the right things at this point.

being on dating apps and meeting new people have made it much easier for me to distract myself from the more real issues that plague me. but honestly that's probably much cheaper than actually going back to therapy and meeting a psychiatrist. honestly wish i was more scummy so i could care a lot less for the people i will probably have to hurt inevitably at some point. there are some things i wish i had put a strong full stop on, rather than leaving them so open ended and so easily continued.

honestly if the cycle of me drinking too much and then very much regretting my own actions as someone who was basically black out repeat again, i will just have to quit drinking. probably easier said than done when i personally think that drunk sadi is much easier to be than sober sadi. sober sadi thinks too much, but i guess drunk sadi thinks too little.

my brain keeps hopping from one thought to another and i kind of deeply wished that it would stop, really. i worry about some of the stupidest things. even right now i'm worrying about work and how incapable i feel because of things that aren't exactly in my control. i also worry about how much i'm liked by people i honestly shouldn't care that much about. (but that's probably me not facing up to how much i actually like them as a person.)

another thought that keeps swirling in my head is my apparent incapability to be loved as i am. who am i really right? i tried explaining this to a friend recently but i couldn't really do it very well. what is the image i give to people really? i know that i appear a little silly (that's just something that's true) or maybe that people think i'm too easy because i tend to easily allow people back into my life. do i make you feel special? do you just like who you are when i'm around rather than my presence? bcos it feels like that a lot.

i think that things would be so much easier if all my relationships with people had a label on them - "friend", "someone to fuck", "stranger" - i don't enjoy not knowing what i am to people and especially what people are to me. i hate when things aren't clear cut or that i don't know for sure even whether i might somehow be in love with someone. things being unclear truly just makes it so much more confusing to me.

a friend concisely putting this into a string of sentences that actually made sense actually made me tear up a little bit. maybe this is what i mean when i say i wish i was looked at as my own person, to be liked as who i am and not what i might be able to give you or what you think i could grant you. a wishing well full of the yearning of men who can't give me much more than a dinner or two or who can only spout empty compliments at me when they don't even know me that well.

it might be my fault in the end though, i keep putting up pretenses and catering myself to the people that i meet just so i don't have to face up to who i actually am. they don't deserve to know me but then sometimes my facade cracks and they somehow believe that they can somehow fix me. or that i've become someone who has layers and suddenly they want to know what lies beneath the mask. everybody trying to steal pieces of my heart as a little trophy when i know that they won't end up staying for any longer than just a while once they know the full extent of my "crazy".

i really do deeply wish that love was easy, or that to be loved was simple. it feels like i keep having to clarify - do you like me? or do you like how i make you feel? would it be the same if it was someone else who could make you feel special? would you preferably settle with someone who could give you those same kind of feelings and who doesn't harbor this kind of emotional baggage? am i actually special to you or do you just feel special around me?

my fault that i keep finding some kind of external validation from the kinds of people who probably just want to have sex with me. it's my problem that i can't seem to just have sex without wanting to get to know them before it, i care about the stupidest things really.

[thefanficmonster]

Perspective

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Corpse recounts the time he first met his now best friend who too has been gifted with a deep voice.

Requested by two Anons. This fic is a mash up of two very similar requests I got from an unnamed Anon and 🖤🥀 Anon, so a big thank you to the both of you for sending in your requests! I’m really sorry to be posting your requested fic so late but I hope the final product is gonna make the wait you had to endure worth it! If you come across it and read it, I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

“Yeah, yeah ok, I know.“ I can’t help but playfully roll my eyes at the comments that are flooding in, “Before any more people address it - even though it’s only been five minutes - I’m gonna address it myself: I apologize for the absence of the guest I promised would accompany me on this stream. She made the choice to party until late - or should I say early - and is currently probably asleep. And...I just don’t have the heart to wake her.“

In all honesty, all the blame should fall on Y/N’s lack of responsibility but I could never say such a thing - she rarely let’s herself loose and allows herself to have fun so there’s no way I’m gonna hold this one instance against her. Quite the contrary actually: I hope she starts going out and having fun more frequently cause really deserves it. She’s a super hardworking girl, studying college and working her ass off simultaneously.

“For those of you who don’t know who I’m referring to: the girl in question is Y/N, aka Jumpscaretastic, a horror games oriented streamer. She was supposed to join me for this freaky journey but...yeah I’ll have to endure it on my own because fuck me.“ I take a look at my chat again, deciding to keep this interaction with my viewers going for a bit longer before I start the game. I may be stalling but you sure as hell won’t hear me admit it. The game may be terrifying as hell - I have no doubt it is - but I doubt it would affect me so much if Y/N was here.  My eyebrows furrow automatically at the sight of one specific question that I’ve been getting asked quite a lot recently and I’ve been doing my best to avoid it cause the idea - to me, at least - is so messed up. Why, we’ll get into that later. “No- ok, this is the first and last time I’ll be addressing this wild assumption, you guys, so listen carefully. Y/N and I are by no means related. I’m not related to every deep-voiced person on this planet, just FYI.“ Speaking of Y/N’s deep voice which I’ve gotten so accustomed to hearing, I can’t help but recall the first interaction the two of us had when she got invited by Toast for a game of Among Us with us when Felix canceled on us due to technical difficulties. “I may not be related to her but she really put into perspective how other people feel and react when they hear my voice. I, honestly speaking was astonished by hers.“

A few months ago

“Ok guys, since Felix texted me about an hour ago, saying he won’t be able to make it, I invited a friend of mine so I hope that’s ok with you.“ Toast announces when the majority of us have accumulated in the lobby.

“Yeah, all cool. An introduction to them would be nice though.“ Charlie says, tampering with his avatar’s appearance on the in-game laptop.

“Oh, I’m sure she can do that herself.” He says with a bit of a chuckle, “Y/N?“

“I’m here, I’m here.“ 

My gaze moves from my chat to the monitor displaying the game in an instant as though it would reveal to me who the owner of this unfamiliar voice that just travelled through my headphones is. You know how my voice is considerably deep, yeah well this girl’s voice is six feet below that.  My eyes have widened without me even noticing as I hurry to unmute myself despite being a little late to the reaction party which already consists of a ton of ‘OMG’s and “WHOA”s from the rest of the people in the call. Not one of them, however, considers to question the authenticity of the voice.

“Was that a voice changer or something?“ I say, my eyebrows shooting up when I hear the laugh I receive in response to the question - a sound so deep but simultaneously sweet and girly it messes with my head.

“I wish I kept count so I could tell you which number on the list of people who’ve asked me that you fall under.“ The girl, Y/N replies, “But for the record no, it’s not a voice changer.“

Realizing how hypocritical this question probably seems coming from me, I decide to believe her - probably cause she gets nothing if she lies anyways. “Oh, so this is how it feels hearing my voice for the first time, huh?“ I say, slowly nodding my head, still in slight disbelief.

“Yeah, meeting her was quite rattling - in the best way possible though.“ I say, fixating myself back in reality following the little trip back in time to the day Y/N and I met. “She’s now one of my best friends so that should tell you enough.“

It goes without saying that, since she’s my best friend, I know her quite well. That being said, with the detailed knowledge I have on her, I can guess she’s gonna be in for a massive hangover when she wakes up. I just hope she texts me when she does so I can make sure she’s at least semi-functional. Just then, my phone buzzes with a message. Much to my shock, it’s a message from Y/N. Truth be told, I didn’t expect her to be up for another hour or two or three but here she is, sending a simple text that reads:

“My head’s pounding like a drum mid rock n’ roll concert“

There are no emojis accompanying the message, suggesting she’s deadly serious and in quite a bit of pain. Ok, I won’t sugarcoat it - she’s in a fuck-load of pain right now.

“The Sleeping Beauty has awaken and is complaining about a headache, just in case you were wondering.“ I chuckle seemingly nonchalantly as I silently contemplate whether to text her back or call her instead. Who’s gonna know better than my viewers, after all... “You guys think I should call her? Or would that annoy her?“ I ask, furrowing my brows at the chat as I see different responses coming in.

Meh, fuck it -  I think to myself, already taking my phone to call Y/N when the support of my viewers floods in as well.

She picks up after two rings, letting out a sound that sets the tone for the discomfort she’s in.

“Hello to you too.“ I say, putting the call on speaker so my mic can pick up her responses. “Would you please rate the pain you’re in right now on a scale 1-10?“

“A hundred.“ Her strained, raspy and deeper than usual voice comes through, stealing a chuckle from me, “I’m hungover and still a bit drunk. Like, how does that even work?“

“The morning after is a straight-up bitch. Welcome to the world of bad decisions.“ I tell her compassionately, low-key wishing I could go over to her place and provide her with at least a tiny bit of comfort, as much as I can.

“Yeah...“ she sighs halfway dramatically, “Anyhow, we usually text around this time, what’s up with the call?“

“Just wanted to make sure my best-girl wasn’t really dying, you know. Who am I supposed to annoy in Among Us if you’re not there, after all?” I raise my brow and, although she can’t see me, I bet she can probably guess I’m doing that.

“Whatever...“ The same way I can imagine her rolling her eyes while smiling as she said that, “Tell me this, am I wrong or was I supposed to be on your stream today?“

I barely manage to hold in my laughter at the question, “Uh, yeah you were, but...” she doesn’t let me finish my sentence, instead cuts me of:

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry, Corpse! I totally forgot. Believe me, if I could roll my ass out of bed I’d hop in but I really can’t. Unless you want me to be a bore for an hour and a half, that is.“

“For starters, you could never be a bore to me.“ I say matter-of-factly, “And for seconds, you’re kinda on the stream anyway...“

“Come again?“ She cuts me off yet again, “You’re calling me mid-stream? If so, hey everyone! Sorry I couldn’t join, I promise to make it up to both you and Corpse soon.“ A yawn comes from her end before she continues, “As of now, I think I’ll go back to sleep.“

“Alright, alright. I’ll call you again later to make sure you’re still alive. Sleep tight.“ I tell her, already hovering my thumb over the ‘Hang up‘ button.

“Won’t let the hangover bite.“ She slurs/murmurs, stealing my opportunity to end the call cause she does it herself.

I stare at my phone for a second, finally becoming aware of the grin that has spread across my face. Eventually, I address my viewers once again, “There you have it, guys. Technically, you can give her a pass for answering the call, especially in her current state, so let’s all agree to not hold this against her, cool?“

A brief look at my chat shows me the ton of fluffy comments that are coming in as a reaction to the interaction Y/N and I just had. One, however, sticks out especially. It reads: ‘You like her or smt?’

“Do I like Y/N?“ I read the comment out loud, a smirk coming across my face, “Of course I do. She’s a darling.“ If I had a webcam on I’d look straight into the lens and wink. That’s probably spark more than enough rumors, but at the very least they wouldn’t be wrong. “I’ve stalled enough, Outlast is waiting.“ I announce, finally starting the game. After all, it cannot be scarier than the conspiracies my fans could come up with. I get it though - from their perspective, we’re already the perfect couple; from my perspective we’re impossible because from Y/N’s perspective we’re best friends.

Ain’t that how it always goes?

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse  @sunnyrae-cessh  @ladykxxx08  @meowiemari  @renupf  @booklover76  @sra-verissimo  @beatrhizn  @blueberrystigma  @beatrhizn  @chicken-taco-burrito  @scorpios-echos

[skepticalarrie]

See I am excited but also so so scared... And not for stunt content actually, but because Louis has always been very genuine yet careful when addressing the rest of the boys and him talking about a "public fallout" just doesn't feel like Louis to me. I don't know which topics they would go near of course or how they would be handled but him stirring shit up himself when it's something he seems uncomfortable with and has recently shown doesn't care for seems wrong. So I hope they don't go there and actually focus on his journey and the music industry and his personal experience in it and the tour and hopefully an insight to his process of creating the new album.Of course 1D is part of that journey but I hope they treat it as an ending that led to new beginnings and not focus too much on the "drama" and the other boys( esp not if it is for him to talk about beefs or how not close they are anymore) and I don't even want to imagine how Larry would be treated if they chose to address it in anyway( and if their recent approach is any indication then yikes) I know I am getting way ahead of myself and I don't want to rain on anyone's parade, because it is exciting for people and I get it it is for me too, it's just that I have always admired Louis for the way he handles most situations and I like that the things that are dear to him remain private. So hopefully whatever he chooses to show and share will be in line with that and hopefully he is protected enough by the selected content in terms of what is said and promoted AND that everyone else is protected as well esp the fans who you know wouldn't need to be thrown under the bus once again...

Yeah I think the sentence "their public fallout as they split up" can sound a little 🥴🥴 I don't know, I don't know what that means. It's just all so weird. But ultimately, I think that if this turns out to be real and if Louis is going to go through the details of their hiatus, it's because he wants to. I don't think he's being forced to do that and he knows better about the things he should be talking about. He has a very interesting journey as an artist, and he had a very interesting role in the band behind the scenes, which is very often taken for granted.

I'm going to choose to don't jumping ahead of myself here, I trust his decisions and I think he has a lot to be said, I don't think we need to treat him like he's someone who has no idea what he's doing and needs to be protected. We need to stop thinking we know better and that we know about everything that went down when he was in 1D. There are so many layers.

I totally understand the concerns, it's completely reasonable because we're usually expecting the worst, that's how things usually go 🤷‍♀️ and a lot of things would make sense all of the sudden depending on how this is going to go. But I think they would be playing a very dangerous game if they're going with false narratives for this. So yeah, we're going to have to wait and see how it goes. I'm ALWAYS excited for more Louis' content and I want to understand his side of things, so I will be focusing on that for now.

[beyondspaceandstars]

While You Sleep

Chapter 6

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: mainly fluffy, brief mentions of violence Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you’re given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can’t relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier.

(a/n: this was probably the most fun chapter for me to write so far it just came out so cute and sweet i think!! also super sorry all my energy has been focused on this fic i haven’t written many other one shots or anything i just really am getting into this story!)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

When you woke up the next day, something new was in the air. Everything felt lighter, a bit more relaxed. You actually felt refreshed for what seemed like the first time in your life. As dramatic as it sounds, it was unreal. 

You sat up in bed, taking in the morning without the dread. Sure, prior to your dream last night there were bits of chaos still lurking. You couldn’t ignore it and it certainly was not going to go away overnight but everything had shifted, and you could at least appreciate what lulled you to sleep. 

You sighed, almost looking off into a daydream like a lovestruck school girl. You had seen Bucky in such a normal fashion just sitting in his bed reading. You didn’t know when exactly the memory had been from but that didn’t matter. It was something without violence, it was a real look at him. He was so content as he focused on the book...

But you didn’t have the time to sit around pondering about your soulmate’s hobbies forever. You still had a life to get on with. 

Despite your body’s reluctance, you lugged yourself out of bed and started getting your work uniform together. There was a bit of pep in your step, a complete contrast to just a few weeks ago when you were pulling yourself around holding on to the last bit of will you had. It was insane what one meeting with a soulmate could do. Maybe you now understood everyone’s fuss over it.

You redid your hair and touched up your makeup before packing your bag for the day. Once your sneakers were on and you felt actually good (the most glorious feeling, you thought), you headed out your apartment door. 

As you were making your way down the stairs, you noticed someone was waiting by the building’s entrance. You rarely ever saw people around the space so the figure stunned you a bit. As you walked closer, though, you recognized that shoulder-length brown hair.

“Bucky?” You said, surprised, as you opened the lobby door. He turned around, greeting you with a warm smile.

“Good morning.” He spoke so casually as if he always stood outside your apartment waiting for you.

“Everything okay?” You asked, suddenly worried his presence here wasn’t as cheery as he was leading on.

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, I just came to walk you to work if that’s okay.”

Your jaw dropped slightly. “Walk me to work? W-Why?”

Bucky shifted his stance slightly as if suddenly embarrassed. “Because I think that’s something that, uh… that…”

“Soulmates,” you said, finishing his sentence. Bucky looked relieved at that. “That’s something soulmates do?”

He chuckled at the little smirk you were giving him. Your heart felt so full at the thought of Bucky wanting to walk you to work, make sure you got there safe and everything. Maybe even check out the area where you spent most of your days. 

“You can say no, of course.”

You shook your head. “I’m flattered you want to walk me.”

At your acceptance, Bucky extended his elbow for you to take. You giggled as your hand wrapped around his arm and you two began on the route. You were too giddy to look back up at Bucky, even though you could feel him sneaking glances at you, so you turned your attention to his arm. Surprisingly, it was the metal one he had offered to you. While most of it was covered by the sweater he wore, his hand was still peaking out of the sleeve. You stared down at it, curiously, watching the light bounce off the material and listening to the little groans it made as his fingers moved every now and then. 

“It’s not going to hurt you,” Bucky said suddenly, making you jump. You quickly pulled your gaze away, opting instead to look up at him. Your heart sank at the tinge of worry behind his eyes. 

You shook your head as your cheeks warmed in embarrassment. “I didn’t think it would,” you confessed, honestly. “I just think it’s interesting.”

He hummed, unsure. “Interesting?”

A sudden uneasiness fell over you as you found yourself maybe crossing lines now. Sure, you had seen here and there in the nightmares what the arm had done, but you also could see that wasn’t what it was doing right now. Right now it wasn’t a weapon, a danger. It was a guide for you, physically bringing you a tad bit closer to your soulmate. 

“Well, yeah,” you shrugged. You had to choose your words carefully, you thought. “I don’t have to tell you this but it’s unlike anything else out there. It’s powerful. Seems very strong, as well. Probably… Probably has seen a lot but you extended it towards me showing you’re at least a little comfortable with it,” A pause. “I-I don’t think it defines you if that’s what you’re worried about, despite how it’s -- how you -- have been weaponized.”

Bucky didn’t respond at first, making your heart plummet. Had you actually burnt this entire thing down in less than twenty-four hours? You two fell into silent steps as you continued your path to work.

As you rounded a corner, just when you were about to spontaneously tell him it was okay if he never wanted to see you again, Bucky finally spoke up.

“Have you seen the things I’ve done?”

“I’ve read some articles-,”

“That’s not what I meant.”

You brought yourself to a stop on the sidewalk. Bucky halted beside you and shook off your grip. You frowned at the action but didn’t acknowledge it any further. 

“I don’t think it matters what I’ve seen,” you said, a bit of confidence finally mustered up in your tone. It was true, too. Over the past few hours, you hadn’t seen anything from the nightmares that aligned with the actual Bucky in front of you. “We can discuss this another time but I promise you, Bucky, I’m only focusing on what I see right now. Right now I see a man who voluntarily woke up at a ridiculous hour just so he could surprise me and walk me to work. It’s incredible.”

Bucky’s eyes were faintly glossing over, threatening to cry. You didn’t know what to do other than take his hand, intertwining your touch with his metal one. He accepted it, wordlessly. With a nod, you got back on your walking route to the shop. 

“Thank you, doll,” Bucky said just above a whisper. You nearly missed it. Your heart did somersaults as you registered the words.

You two fell into more silence until you decided you needed to lighten the mood. You weren’t letting him drop you off at work like this. 

“Now,” you said, clearing your throat as your own tears had just about formed, “how did you spend the rest of your night?”

Bucky shrugged. “Nothing crazy,” he sighed. “I did some reading before bed.”

“Hmm.” Your interest had been peaked. You thought back to the little dream you had last night, portraying a very studious Bucky. You figured that while it was recent, it wasn’t from last night (dreams rarely ever came through that quick), making you now curious of his reading choices. “Interesting. Wouldn’t have taken you for a reader. What’s the book about?”

He let out a breathy chuckle. “Some new science fiction series Steve picked up for me,” Bucky explained. “I’m not too far into it but I think it has something to do with time traveling.”

You nearly laughed. You thought back to how the nightmares you had been getting recently were all over the place as if you were on your own time-traveling journey -- only it was the cruelest way possible. Fate was such a character. 

“Is that the kind of books you prefer? Science fiction?”

Bucky nodded, “Guess I’ve always been interested in all that science stuff.”

That science stuff. You giggled. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you said. “I’ve fallen a bit out of reading but I’d love to get your recommendations one day.”

“I’m not exactly well versed in all the books out there.” Because he had missed so much -- there was always that unspoken fact in every other thing he said. You wished you could coax him out of that habit but that didn’t seem possible right now. I

“Well, good thing I’m not looking to know about all the books,” you smiled, looking up at him, “I’m just looking to know about your books. Whatever comes across your radar that you end up loving, I’d like to hear about it.”

Bucky returned the smile. “What did you do with the rest of your night?”

“Nothing really,” you shrugged, turning your focus back to the sidewalk ahead of you. “I fell asleep pretty much right after getting home.”

You could feel Bucky’s eyes on you. From the corner of your vision, you could see a bit of a frown on his lips. 

“You didn’t do anything?”

You shook your head.

“No hobbies or anything?”

You sighed. “I’m usually just too tired or too into work to do very much. Last night had been… Overwhelming for me, I think. When it was over, I was exhausted. All of me, body and mental.”

You felt Bucky’s thumb start rubbing soothing patterns on the back of your hand. Your breath caught a bit in your throat. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean for you to get overwhelmed.”

You began shaking your head profusely, “No, no, it’s not your fault, Bucky,” you insisted, “I psyched myself out a bit, I think.”

He let out a long sigh at that. “Well, you shouldn’t do that anymore,” he said, so sincerely. “I never want to bring you pain or worry, okay? That shouldn’t be what… we do.”

“We do?” You looked up at him but he had already turned away. “Oh, you mean what soulmates do.”

“The word still gets caught on the tip of my tongue.”

Your cheeks started feeling hot. “I understand.”

As the conversation faded, your coffee shop came into view. You two stopped outside it. Glancing in the window, you made eye contact with your coworker who had just begun setting up for the day. Her eyes got wide as she realized who the man was behind you. Her shock promptly morphed into excitement.

You turned back to Bucky. “Thank you for accompanying me.”

He flashed you a smile, making your heart just absolutely dissolve. “Of course,” he said. “Anyday, anytime. I’d be happy to accompany you anywhere.”

You were shamelessly full-on blushing, once again feeling like a ridiculous school girl. You had to avert your gaze as Bucky’s eyes on you were making you feel all sorts of things in these fluffy moments. 

With a pointless nod and no more words, you turned to face the coffee shop entrance. One hand on the handle, you stood there. Just holding it. You could hear Bucky walking away. 

Fuck it, you thought. 

You quickly turned back around and dashed to catch up with him. He was walking so leisurely as if he expected this. You called out his name and he whipped around promptly, looking as if he was fighting back another smile. 

“Here,” you said as you grabbed a napkin and pen from your bag and scribbled down your phone number. “It’s my number in case you want to, I don’t know, text me or call or something.” 

He took the napkin gently as if it was the most precious gem in the world seconds away from shattering. With a nod, Bucky responded, “Sure, doll. Thank you.”

You smiled, giving him a nod back. That wasn’t all, though. You had another caution to throw into the wind. Quickly, you placed your hand on Bucky’s shoulder and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. It was so fast you barely had time to register your own movement but Bucky definitely picked up on it. Now his face was the one with a tinge of warm color coming up on it.

“Have a good shift.” It was all Bucky seemed capable of saying as he shot you a wider smile, eyes softening at your nervous form. Before you could respond anymore, prolonging this weird but sweet goodbye for the day, he resumed his walk back. 

As feelings of all sorts washed over, you headed back to the coffee shop where you finally entered… And was greeted by your coworker standing in front of the entrance, arms crossed, staring you down.

“Good morning,” you said, avoiding eye contact and trying to get around her. She stepped in your path.

“Was that…” You nodded before she could finish the words. She broke out into a surprise fit of giggles. “You met him?” She asked in disbelief. 

You nodded. “Last night. We had dinner and he walked me home. It was very nice.” You kept it short and sweet, not feeling like gossiping about something so fresh. But you also secretly wanted to just throw everything out there. It was exciting, it was new. Overall, though, it felt great. 

Your coworker let out gasps, almost in awe. “That’s so exciting,” she said. “Is he, like, nice? Anything like-,”

You shook your head quickly, making her cut off her words. “He’s nothing like…” You didn’t want to say them anymore. Well, at least for right now. You knew a talk with Bucky about it all had to be coming but you want to push it aside for now. “He’s wonderful. A true gentleman. He showed up this morning to walk me to work. What man nowadays would do that?” You chuckled, almost in your own state of disbelief. “Plus, he’s kind of fascinating. Unexpected, even. Would you have guessed he’s a reader?”

You made your way farther into the shop, discarding your bag and throwing on an apron. You began wiping down the counters as your coworker followed. 

“He sounds almost… normal?”

You stopped your movement, taking in that observation. You finally nodded in agreement. Yeah, you guessed that so far he was kind of normal. At least, personality-wise. 

After a moment you said, “I think I’m glad I didn’t try to move on.”

Despite not looking at her, you knew your coworker wore another ridiculous, lovey smile. She was practically in awe and, you had to admit, you kind of were, too.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

taglist under construction right now, deepest apologies!

[creweemmaeec11]

The Gift of Panic Pt#2

First part

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

After a moment of silence, the villain finially spoke.

"The last birthday present I got..." they started in a quiet, almost whispered tone, "was a bomb..."

"What!?" the hero replied in shock.

"Someone I cared about... though it would be funny to open my present before me as a joke..." they took a deep breath, "they didn't..."

Their voice cracked before they trailed off, and the quickly wiped at their face, abruptly standing up, keeping their back to the hero.

"I don't even know..." the hero replied, trailing off as well. They didnt know what to say, how to respond, what to do. What could they?

"Its fine I just," the villain started, before taking a deep, recomposing breath, "Sorry, I've never told anyone about it,"

"No no, it's okay. God, I can't even imagine..."

"Its alright, I got my revenge in the end," the villain replied, turning back toward the hero.

"Really? How?"

The villain looked at them with a confused expression, before it shifted into an amused smirk, "For legal reasons, and because I don't want to prolong my time in here, I probably shouldn't tell you,"

The hero laughed, "fair point. For what it's worth, I'm glad you got justice, even if it probably isn't the kind of justice I'd agree with,"

"Really? You think I deserve justice?"

"Of course, I think everyone does," the hero said in confusion, as if that was obvious.

The villain huffed a half laugh, giving a small smile, "I need to remember who I'm talking to,"

Both their gazes fell back to the long discarded present on the floor.

"I can take it, if you'd like, but-"

"No no, it's okay, I... I cant believe the words 'I trust you' are coming out of my mouth but I at least trust you didnt gift me a bomb,"

"I don't know if I'm hurt or flattered,"

The villain laughed again, walking over to hesitantly pick up the gift. They turned back to face the hero, holding the box with both hands as they just stared at it.

"The question still remains..." they drawled, before looking up at the hero that was still sat on the bed, "Why would you get me a birthday present?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why would you get me a gift? Why would you do something like that? For me? I dont think I'm very... deserving of a gift. Especially from you. Unless whatever is in here is some form of mockery- I mean- I guess I shouldn't assume..."

Their eyes dimmed slightly, as if they realized the only thing that could be in the box was something mocking, a heros form of bragging that they had won.

"Okay now I'm definitely hurt,"

The villain looked back up at them.

"Your my friend, I realized your birthday was coming up, so I thought back on our previous conversations, and tried to get something I thought youd like," the hero replied, moving to sit it a more casual position, "There wasnt any more thought put into it then that,"

The villain was now staring at them with wide eyes.

They blinked, seemingly trying to process what they'd just heard.

"I... have questions..."

The hero smirked, tilting their head as a prompt to continue, amused at the normally silver tounged villain being thrown so off their game by something so simple.

"Friend?" The villain responded almost instantly.

"Oh I'm sorry, what would you call this? Marriage?"

"I'd call this me tolerating your visits, whenever you decide to drop by because you've nothing better to do,"

"Maybe at first, but I've seen the way you recently light up whenever I come in,"

"Then you've *recently* begun going blind. I'd suggest seeing an optometrist,"

The hero laughed, "also, for your information, I make time for these visits, I dont just swing by cuz 'I'm bored',"

The villain squinted at that, "You... make time... for me?"

"Yes, that's what friends do,"

"I am not your friend," the villain replied stubbornly.

"Oh yeah? When was the last time you let someone hug you? I have to have passed the friend mark by now,"

The villain blushed, realizing they *had* allowed the hero to hug them, and they couldnt remeber the last time anyone else had even tried, nevermind been *allowed*.

"this is a dysfunctional work relationship at best"

The hero snorted another laugh at that.

The villain glanced down at the box once more.

Finially they knelt down onto the floor, placing the box infront of them. The stared at it for a few seconds, hands shaking slightly as they hovered over it, before taking a deep breath and tearing the wrapping off.

It was a simple brown box with a lid.

The villain chuckled under their breath slightly at that.

"What?" The hero questioned, not seeing anything funny.

"No, sorry I just-, had a thought,"

The hero raised an eyebrow at them.

"I just thought how funny it would be if after all this it turned out to be empty, but that would be cruel, even for-"

Their sentence came to a halt as the lid came off and they saw what was inside.

Now their wasnt anything incredible inside, it wasnt like they had gotten a new iphone, but there was *many* things inside.

They looked up at the hero, mouth open slightly, not even attempting to hide their shock.

The hero just smiled.

Slowly, the villain began taking things out of the box. A book of puzzles, like crosswords and word searches, a small sketch book and a pack of markers to go with them. A small puzzle, showing the picture of a fox, which was the villains favourite animal. There was also a rubix cube that was already messed up, and a set of other small puzzles. At the bottom, there were two more boxes, one much bigger then the other.

The bigger box contained the Harry Potter book series. The second, contained a small device that looked like an airpod, along with earbuds.

It was fascinating for the hero to watch the villain open their gift. One would expect a villain to be clumsy, rushed, or aggressive, ripping into their present, but they were the opposite. They removed every item slowly, delicately, like it was a peice of glass that could break, examining it with the same gentleness before laying it down carefully beside them.

When they had opened the last item, they looked back up at the hero, completely flabbergasted, jaw on the floor and eyes wide.

The hero laughed quietly, "do you like it?"

"I..." the villain sat back onto their heels from where they were kneeling, looking over the items like they were unsure what to do now, "what..."

They blinked, gathering their thoughts, "how did you...? I mean what-"

They picked up the puzzle as they spoke.

"That's your favourite animal right? A fox? Now I wasnt sure what kind of fox but-"

"How?" The villain asked, almost breathlessly, looking back at the hero.

"How did I know that? You mentioned it, once. I was talking about being a cat or dog person, and you said youd always been a fox person, something about them being 'sly and underestimated, yet smart enough to know when to strike'" they recited, making quotations in the air.

The villains jaw hit the floor again.

"That was actually one of the first things you ever told me about yourself,"

"You bothered... to remeber that...?" they muttered under their breath.

"Yep. The rubix cube is because you bragged to me once you were good at puzzles and could do one, and I didn't believe you," the hero smirked, "still don't,"

The villain huffed a small laugh, before glancing over at the books.

"the puzzle book and sketch book are just something to do, I know markers arnt ideal, but obviously I wasnt allowed to give you any pencils or pens,"

The villain nodded in understanding.

"the books are because I was talking about game of thrones one day, and you said youd always preferred Harry Potter,"

The villain smiled, and shook their head at that, chuckling, "I've never actually read them, I just wanted to disagree with you," they joked.

They both laughed.

"What's this?" The villain asked, picking up the small device with the ear buds.

"Its a little mini portable radio. I didnt know what songs you liked, and obviously, I'm not allowed to give you anything with acsess to the internet, but at least now you can choose what station you want,"

The villain sat back again, looking over everything with the same stunned, almost lost expression.

"You... remebered all those little details... and here I thought I was doing a good job at not letting anything about myself slip..."

"Oh you have been, trying to figure out what to get you was near impossible, but I managed to remeber a couple little things youd mentioned,"

They picked up the rubix cube, playing with it aimlessly, "I... don't even know what to say..."

"Well, most people would say thankyou,"

The villain shook their head, "that dosent seem like enough. I... I cant even remeber the last time someone gave me a gift, nevermind one without strings attached, and esspecially nevermind one with actual thought put into it,"

"I get the feeling you need better friends," the hero joked, trying to keep the mood light.

"Yeah well, I guess I'm on the right track, I've already got one," they replied, but couldnt bring themselves to look at the hero while they did.

The hero in question was lit up like a christmas tree, heart swelling happily in their chest.

"I hate to cut this short, but don't have long today, I'm going to have to get going, I just wanted to make sure I got to swing by today," the hero said, looking at their watch.

"Oh! Yeah, of course, you -"

"Do not have 'more important' things to do, I simply have *other* things I need to do," the hero interrupted sternly, giving the villain, who blushed, a pointed look.

"yeah, that."

The villain stood up, standing awkwardly in the middle of all their gifts, watching the hero leave through the finger print locked cell door. They approached the switch to turn on the force field, when the villain stopped them.

"Oh, hey, wait!"

"What's up?" The hero asked.

Suddenly the villain tossed something through the bars with effortless perfect aim. The hero caught it, and this time it was their jaw that hit the floor.

It was a completed rubix cube.

They looked back at the villain in shock, who laughed, giving them a real, large, and although greatly amused, no less genuine smile. The first real, true smile they'd ever seen on the villain. They couldnt help but stare in awe for a moment.

"What..?" The villain asked after a moment.

The hero shook their head to snap them out of it, "sorry! It's just, that's the first time I think I've ever seen you actually smile,"

Instantly the smile vanished as the villain steeled their features, crossing their arms and shrugging, trying to ignore the blush on their face, "yeah well, that's cuz it dosent happen often, so,"

"I'm honored,"

"Shut up,"

The hero laughed, before looking at the cube in their hand again,"this is like, actually really impressive though, that was so fast!"

The villain shrugged again, "the 3 by 3 ones are easy, the 4 by 4 or 5 ones arnt that much more difficult, the 6 and 7 ones take me a while though, 8 is an actual challenge, and I dont think I've ever done above that before,"

The hero was still staring at them wide eyed.

The villain just chuckled and shrugged at them again, "I was an outcast kid, had alot of time on my hands. Anyway, get going,"

"Yeah, right," the hero replied, tossing the cube back before flicking on the force field. They began walking toward the door, before the villain spoke out to them one last time,

"By the way... thank you... really..."

The hero smiled, "your welcome," they replied, before disappearing out the door.

The next time they visited, they would make sure to bring a 9 by 9 rubix cube, and a fox calendar.

Third part

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding Part Three: SW Time Travel AU #27

Part One

Part Two

Obi Wan woke with a dry mouth and a moderate headache. A fairly typical morning these days. 

He peered around his bedroom in the temple confused. Wasn’t he just with Cody? Shouldn’t he be on the Negotiator? No wait, the war was over, Cody tried to kill him, and the Negotiator was a part of the Imperial Armada, of course he wouldn’t be there. He closed his eyes, snuggling back under the covers. Before he could drift back to sleep, his sluggish mind processed that last thought. 

He BOLTED upright in bed. The temple had been razed, his personal chambers scorched with particular thoroughness. Just being on Coruscant was an automatic death sentence. Faint tendrils of panic began to curl around his throat before he remembered his decision to give Spice a try. He had reasoned that he should probably find at least one pleasure in his new life, instead of focusing incessantly on what was lost. 

So what if he lost a few brain cells? Good riddance. 

Obi-Wan had been a bit nervous, but this had ended up being his best decision in years. His goodbye to Cody had been painful, but deeply cathartic. Spice Hallucination Anakin didn’t scream like Nightmare Anakin, and the color of his eyes was perfect. Far better final memories to cling to than reality- a reminder of the good times. Comforted, he relaxed backwards in bed, pulling his blankets back around him.

He LURCHED out of bed, covers tossed aside, movement a blur.

He was still hallucinating?!? Spice shouldn’t last in the system this long! He might’ve been uncertain about whether he was supposed to smoke or snort the substance but it was a well known fact that its exhaustive but rapid passage through the body was half what made it so addictive. If nothing else, his well-restedness and thirst indicated it had been at least six hours. He looked frantically around the room, searching for some thread of unreality to pull at.

This...was not good. Hadn’t the subconscious manifestations of his friends mentioned drugs that interacted poorly with force users last night? He had dismissed it at the time but...

He clearly was stuck in some sort of drugged fantasy combined with force-enhanced memory recall. Kriff, he had to wake up in the real world before he died of an aneurysm. Or just dehydration.

He sat on the ‘temple floor’ to meditate. This could be tricky as he couldn’t risk lowering his outer shields to reach out to reality. It would be deeply embarrassing as well as horrifying if the Emperor managed to find him and, by extension, Luke because he got stuck in a bad spice trip.

The door to his room clicked open quietly. 

“Oh! You’re awake. Sorry to come in without knocking, Master. I wanted to let you sleep, but I’ve been checking on you every two hours to make sure you were still, you know, breathing. You were...pretty out of it last night and I would be a pretty bad ‘best friend in the whole galaxy’ if I let you choke on your own vomit, right?” His blue-eyed Padawan explained with a grin.

Obi-Wan just stared. Oh this- this hurt. It was easier last night, when the whole fantasy had a kind of drunken blurriness. Sleeping and waking had brought sober clarity to the dream world. He could see the bags under Anakin’s eyes as well as the sheepish slouch of his shoulders as he instinctively ducked at the door frame. It was just so real.

“Obi-Wan? Are you feeling ok? Do you still feel drunk?” Anakin asked concerned.

Obi-Wan shook his head. He hesitated, before deciding to just go along with the interaction. He didn’t want to risk his subconscious throwing a less idylic scene at him by pretending to ignore this one. And besides, last night had been, all totaled, a huge relief- an unburdening of things left unsaid. This was probably the closest thing to therapy available to him these days, he might as well take advantage.

“I’m just...processing. Not to mention dealing with some mild dehydration.” He finally answered.

“Processing, huh? So does that mean you, uh, remember last night?” Anakin asked nervously.

“I do.” Obi-Wan smiled gently. As heart-wrenching as this was, it was also adorably sweet. Maybe it was worth it to push off waking for a little while. He could get some closure, maybe even work through some of the past to see where the two of them had gone wrong. It might even be helpful for Luke! Force willing, he would probably end up training Anakin’s son someday.

(the boy wouldn’t have many masters to choose from)

If this dream world could help him figure out specifically how he had failed as a Master, then he owed it to the galaxy to see it through. Satisfied, he resolved to let the fantasy play out. At least for a few more more hours. And...he had missed what Anakin had said. Wonderful start.

“I’m very sorry, Anakin would you mind repeating that? I was still a little distracted, but I promise, I’m focused on you now.”

Anakin shuffled nervously. “It’s nothing.”

Obi-Wan tried to project reassurance without actually projecting. “Please Anakin, I’d like to hear what you have to say. I know I wasn’t the most observant or approachable Master, and I’m sorry for that. But I have always cared about your thoughts and feelings.” It was a struggle and the words caught in his throat, but the raw burn of the apology was cleansing in an almost addictive way.

Anakin flushed. “Did you mean everything you said?” he asked nervously.

“I’d...rather not talk about seeing the destruction of the temple, seeing you... Maybe later...but please, I just don’t want to focus on it while I’m sitting here, looking at you,” Obi-Wan said quietly.

“That actually wasn’t what I was talking about,” Anakin responded quickly. “I mean, I do want to help you with that at some point, but I get not wanting to talk about visions, even if you should probably should. Of course if you do want to talk about that stuff, that’s more important, but since you don’t we can talk about the other stuff you mentioned. I was more referring to, you know, us, and what you said about our friendship?” his voice got progressively higher the longer he rambled. 

Obi-Wan thought back. “Well some of it is a little hazy, but overall yes. I...for a very long time I’ve considered you my best friend, and its not so easy for me to let go of my affections. I miss spending time with you; there are times I turn to say something and am still shocked you’re not there. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, with real words, how much I cared. I’m sorry I didn’t hug you as much as I wanted, looking back that was a nonsensical Jedi custom. It’s not in the code; it’s just an affectation of dignity. All things considered, the fact that you often snuck out to see Padme doesn’t really bother me.” He paused. “Was that everything?”

“Oh. Yeah, that pretty much covered everything.” Anakin looked embarrassed, but happy. “I wasn’t sure if you were just saying that stuff because you were drugged, or really drunk or something.”

“No, I meant what I said. I suppose it just took an altered state for me to relax enough to actually say it instead of just thinking at you and assuming you would know. I must admit, its difficult for me to maintain this emotional honesty without feeling drunk, but it’s good. This is good.”

“Ah, that’s... wow. So you weren’t drugged? Cody was concerned you seemed to off for much you actually drank.”

Obi-Wan frowned. Hadn’t that been a trip? Vision blurring from desert hovel to some nameless Catina he once visited with Cody. The continuity since then was almost unsettling. But, then again, Obi-Wan always did have a remarkable talent for self-delusion, didn’t he. He waved away the concerns.

“My substance consumption was entirely deliberate and exactly what I needed. There might have been some unknown additions with some unforeseen after-affects, but like I said- I’m not drunk. I’m clear minded and in full control right now and I knowingly accept the current fallout from whatever I took. I could meditate and force purge to completely recenter, but I think it would be far wiser to just see where this goes. Do you disagree, Anakin?”

Anakin grinned widely. “Whatever you say, Obi-Wan. Just remember this is your idea. Also, I’m taking you to the healers tonight if you’re not completely back to yourself.”

Obi-Wan signed, “If I’m not back to myself in 12 hours, than I fully agree that’s a problem worthy of the halls of healing.”

“Right,” Anakin nodded decisively, “I’ll go get you some water then comm Cody to tell him you’re still alive.

Obi-Wan smiled weakly in response. This wasn’t just a hashed up memory; the responsiveness was more that. He quickly got dressed, hands lingering over soft fabrics and sand-free linens.

Anakin dropped off a cup of water; Obi-Wan sipped at it hesitantly. Dear force, this was dangerously vivid. It actually felt like a relief in his parched mouth. Clearly his subconscious was pulling out all the stops to trap him in this soft delusion. He would have to deal with the thirst and hunger until he woke up- it was probably the firmest link he had to his real body.

He took one last look around before rushing out of his room, eager to take advantage of the time.

Anakin looked nervously up from the comm when Obi-Wan started pulling his boots on. “You’re not going out in the temple like this, are you?”

“Of course! I want to visit the gardens and the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Not to mention spend some time with a few of the other Jedi. You might still be the dearest being in my heart, but there were other Jedi that I care for, and dammit I’m going to tell them that.” He finally finished lacing up his left leg and moved to the right.

Anakin was dumbstruck, presumably as burnt by the ‘dearest being’ comment as Obi-Wan was. Then he rallied, “Wow, wow, No. You are not running around the temple drugged so you can, I don’t know, give Mace Windu a hug. I thought when you said you were going to ‘deal with the fallout' from whatever the kriff you’re still on, you meant you were going to lounge around the quarters all day!”

His former padawan physically blocked the door when Obi-Wan started to leave, sounding vaguely hysterical, “You can’t run around loopy! You’re a High Council Member!”

“Not anymore,” Obi-Wan replied bitterly. 

“What do you mean not anymore,” Anakin said fiercely, grabbing on to his shoulders . “Did they kick you out? Is that why you’re acting crazy? Did you resign?”

Obi-Wan responded by pulling Anakin into a hug, which was immediately returned, “Of course not, don’t be absurd. Fine, I suppose I’m technically still a high council member, it just seems like a bit of a moot point.”

“What the kark does that mean? You used to dream about being on the council! You’re the wisest Master in any of those stupid chairs!”

‘Master of the High Council’ Kenobi just sighed heavily in response. He maneuvered around the confused errant Knight and into the hall. 

"Obi-Wan wait! At least eat something first! Or let me put my shoes on!”

“Very well, you have one minute to make yourself presentable. I only have a few hours before I’m going to need to get back to reality, and the longer I linger the more I fear extreme measures may be necessary.”

“What does that mean?” Anakin shouted from inside. “Extreme measures sounds really ominous, you know.”

“I’d rather not get into it, alright? Let’s just enjoy the here-and-now, eh, ad’ika?

Anakin crashed out the door with less than a second to spare. “What did you just call me?"

“Ad’ika,” Obi-Wan answered, striding down the hallway in the direction of the hanging gardens. “Surely you must have picked up some Mando’a from the troopers?”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t sure if I heard you right, bu- um- ori'vod,” Anakin fumbled out. “Uh, you’re not going to call me that in front of anyone else, right? You do remember that the council already gives us the side eye for over-attachment right?”

Obi-Wan hummed thought fully in responded. “There are far worse things a Jedi could do than admit to affection they already feel. Maybe if I had been honest about my attachments, they wouldn’t have ended the way that...” he trailed off quietly.

“The way that what,” Anakin asked frustrated. “You’re really giving me some emotional whiplash over here, and I’m starting to think that putting off dragging you to the healers is a stupid idea.

“There are far stupider things a Jedi could do,” he responded cheerily. “Oh look, there’s Plo Koon. MASTER KOON!” He shouted, startling the Kel Doran Jedi.

“Yes, Master Kenobi?” He replied slightly concerned as the two human Jedi came jogging over.

“I just wanted to say that I consider my former padawan my family. I raised him, I care for him deeply, and I don’t want to let go of those feelings.”

Plo Koon nodded seriously in response. “I feel just the same about my former padawans, and the Wolffe pack, of course. Denying my attachments isn’t, personally, a practical way to handle them. I’d rather honestly live as an imperfect Jedi than pretend to be a perfect example of the code. If I must have some imbalance, I’d rather it be an excess of compassion than a dearth,” he replied earnestly.

“I always admired that about you,” Obi-Wan replied ruefully. “This might be a little odd, but could I have a hug? I hold you in the highest regard and I’ve realized that there are so many Jedi that I never directly expressed my affection for and...”

Plo Koon didn’t wait for Obi-Wan to finish before wrapping his arms around him. “Of course, dear boy. You’ve had such heavy burdens placed on your shoulders during your life, especially in the last few years; it saddens me to see how deeply they’ve weighed you down. If there’s anything I can do to help, in any way, you simply have to ask.”

Obi-Wan sniffled slightly into Plo’s Shoulder while Plo rubbed soothing circles over his back.

A few passing Jedi gave the embracing Masters uncomfortable looks before hurrying on their way. Anakin stood slack-jawed.

When they finally pulled back, Plo Koon hesitated before finally asking, “I don’t mean to pry, but what brought all this on? I can sense much grief from you, even through your impressive shields.”

“It’s a long story,” Obi-Wan replied, wiping at the corner of his eyes. “I’d rather not get into it.”

“He’s high,” Anakin offered bluntly. “He took something last night and won’t go to medical wing.”

“Ah,” Plo said. “Is that true?”

Obi-Wan looked a little embarrassed. “I have the situation under control. My connection with reality might be...slightly altered right now, but my emotions, and what I chose to do with them are my own. I’m just, taking advantage of a unique opportunity to express myself.”

Plo Koon seemed to scrutinize him intensely, “If you’re sure this is what you need, than I support you. Just don’t do anything too foolish.” he finally offered.

Obi-Wan beamed. “I appreciate you saying so, I thought you would be supportive. Farewell, Master Koon”

Obi-Wan offered a respectful bow and then turned to walk away briskly. Before Anakin could follow, Plo rested a claw on his arm. 

“Feel free to comm me if his behavior reaches a point where you think he truly needs a healer. I’m happy to help you drag him there if need be. A little cathartic release isn’t in of itself such a bad thing, but if he starts acting too out of control...”

Anakin nodded in acknowledgment, then ran off to see who else Obi-Wan had chosen to throw himself at.

Part Four

[thisaccisdead]

montreal - roman hurt/comfort

pairing: this was written to all be platonic prinxiety, but can definitely be interpreted romantically !

warnings: unconventional self harm, non-graphic descriptions of wounds/injury

summary: a post-POF roman hurt/comfort fic in january 2021? yes <3

word count: 3.2k

notes: large portions of this were salvaged from one (1) night last summer at 4am when i was having a . time. the rest has been mainly recently written before i go to bed, with some extra bits added during my history classes B)) also shout out to [REDACTED]. u may not read this but if u do, i hope u know who u are & ilu

Virgil had been trying to calm himself down for the better part of an hour, as soon as they got back from the wedding fiasco; and he was doing a relatively okay job. Considering the circumstances, at least. Or so he thought, when he registered a spike in Thomas’s anxiety. This only served to make Virgil more anxious, because he had thought he had been doing well—until, he realized it wasn’t anxiety, not exactly, not fully—and it wasn’t coming from him.

Once he'd figured that out, it wasn't hard to trace the feeling to the imagination. He paused at the door. If this was where the strongest negative emotions were coming from, he already knew which side this was about. And could he really be surprised? Roman had wanted that callback for so long. Even at the court case, even when Roman gave Thomas his sentence, Virgil knew it killed him. And Virgil didn't do anything. Because he was so fucking scared of Thomas being bad, or of Janus winning, or something, and now whatever was going on was his fault, and--

And now was not the time for these thoughts. He breathed in. He opened the door.

Immediately, he was coughing out soot, heat burned his cheeks, his eyes blurred with protective tears forming against the smoke. It was hard to see, let alone process, what was happening. Then, he caught sight of the Dragon Witch. And he caught sight of—

“Roman!” Virgil choked on the yell, coughing again.

Obviously Roman couldn’t hear him from the distance, especially considering the brutal roar of the creature. Adrenaline kicked in, and as Virgil began to sprint towards the prince, he took in the entirety of the scene with alarm. Roman was...fighting, sure, except that Virgil had seen him fight before, and this... wasn’t right. Roman bested manticore-chimeras like it was a breeze, he HAD bested the Dragon Witch herself in every form she took, “just for training.” He always moved like he was in a ballet, not a battle, like it was more for show than challenge, and now...

Virgil watched Roman fall to a hard swish of the creature’s tail, and stay there. He almost expected the Dragon Witch to take mercy, or at least, to accept an early victory. But he watched her rear back, raise a taloned hand, the magma-red in her throat glowing brighter and brighter—just as Virgil got close enough to let fight win over flight.

Virgil crashed into Roman; they rolled just far enough that the swipe of claws only ripped the edge of Virgil’s jacket.

Immediate danger out of the way, Virgil clenched his eyes tight, trying to do it how Logan taught him. He found something that didn’t make sense--the grass. The grass was dry, therefore it should have been burning, but it wasn’t. He took that foothold to dispel all the fantastical elements of the scene, Dragon Witch and all her carnage blinking from existence. The new calm of the scene was jarring.

That just left a great big field, Virgil, and one absolute dumbass.

"What the fuck, Princey?!"

Virgil’s voice was distorted with stress, and Roman stared up at him wide-eyed, unsure—even terrified in a way that hurt. Virgil quickly pushed himself up so he wasn't pinning the other. Roman tried to copy this movement, only to groan, start coughing, and fall back again.

“Shit, I—“ Virgil looked at his hands and found red on them, looked at Roman and saw the color painting his chest. “I thought I dispelled all the imaginary stuff, why—?“

“Left brain sides can only dispel so much of what right brain sides feel,” Roman said, voice rough and thin and upsettingly casual, “Since they feel so real to me, you can’t get rid of them.”

“They feel…? Christ, ok, you need a medical kit, uhm—“ Virgil closed his eyes again; he was notoriously shitty at summoning things, and he had to concentrate for this—

“That’s ok; I’ve got it,” Roman said, letting out a quiet hiss as he propped himself up on one arm, and summoned the medical kit with the other, “You can go now.”

Virgil gaped at him in disbelief. When Roman attempted to stand up, and Virgil could no longer deny he wasn’t joking, he exclaimed, “Like Hell am I going, idiot!”

Roman just stared at him, and Virgil cursed under his breath. “Ok ok, let’s just... we should do this in the bathroom, uhm—“

Virgil awkwardly clambered over to Roman again, taking his hand, so he could blink them over together. He knew it would probably be more comfortable for Roman to sink in and out, but considering Virgil wasn’t practiced at that, he wasn’t going to risk screwing it up.

They apparated into the bathtub, and Virgil scrambled up, taking the med kit from Roman's hands.

Ok, ok, now Virgil just had to remember that one time Logan lectured them all on “Side Safety.” He took a shaky breath and washed his hands quickly, before turning back to Roman. He allowed himself to fully assess the prince this time and… Jesus. He was slumped against the back of the tub, having given up his attempts at composure while he thought Virgil wasn’t looking. His litany of scrapes, cuts, bruising, his shallow breathing, and--most of all--the wet, red patch slowly growing on his shirt, sparked renewed panic in Virgil.

“Ok, fuck, ok--let’s do this,” Virgil said, mostly to himself, as he knelt down by Roman to undo his already tattered shirt and take a wet towel to his chest. He had to suck in a breath at the sight of the jagged wound, a nauseous feeling catching up to him.

“You’ve already done a lot, you know,” Roman insisted. “You can--”

“If you tell me to go, Princey, I swear I’ll make these wounds worse myself,” he said, not meaning it in the slightest, which he would assume Roman knew--but the way Roman flinched and shut his mouth told a different story. “Shit, I didn’t mean that. Of course I didn’t mean that!”

Roman glanced away, and Virgil reached to cup his cheek, an instinct he didn’t know he had. Luckily, he caught himself in time to retract his hand. They both avoided eye contact for a second; Virgil cleared his throat; and he reached for the bottle of hydrogen peroxide before pausing. He vaguely recalled Logan mentioning how strong alcohols would only cause more harm, and they should just stick to mild soap instead. He gave the cut a longer look-over—it was certainly not a pretty sight, but probably not as bad as it looked. It was large, but not too deep. Plus, as sides, it would heal itself without needing anything like stitches or professional medical work. The past scars littering Roman’s body were proof of that. Actually--had he always had this many scars? Virgil squinted. How often did he do this?

Virgil finished cleansing and bandaging the wound to the best of his ability, with little talk beyond the occasional, soft “sorry” at Roman’s winces. When he had finished, he gave Roman his hoodie (an action the Prince was too tired to take much notice of), since summoning a new shirt seemed like a waste of whatever energy he had left.

“Ok, Princey, all done. Uhm, are you—how, how are you?” Virgil mentally kicked himself.

A small, bitter smile tugged at Roman’s lips for just a moment. He opened his mouth and then closed it, and finally shrugged. “Thank you for your help.”

It hurt, Virgil realized. Roman’s quiet voice, where near-shouting was his usual speech. His unkempt hair sticking to his forehead, where it was usually styled to be very lightly and intentionally ruffled. The bags beneath his eyes where there was usually concealer. All of it hurt.

Virgil sucked in a breath. “Look, I’m sorry if I’m being annoying, but I hope you know there’s absolutely no way I’m leaving yet.”

“Virgil,” Roman almost said it as a whine, which was closer to his usual style, so Virgil considered it progress.

“Roman,” Virgil deadpanned back.

Roman huffed. “Maybe I need space to really explore my feelings, and you’re actually being a terrible friend right now,” he argued.

“Uh-huh, well being a terrible friend is always my favorite, so,” Virgil leaned down, fumbling slightly as he picked Roman up bridal style, “We’re gonna get you to bed, and you can explore your feelings by sleeping.”

“Great, now you’re damsel-in-distressing me,” Roman said sarcastically, but he leaned his head into Virgil’s chest as he did so, which kind of ruined his point.

“Yeah, yeah. Act more like Megara next time, and maybe it’ll be different.”

•••

Roman groaned upon waking up. His whole body ached, but mainly it was focused around a sharper pain in his chest. He let his eyes flutter open, only to find Virgil staring at him from his desk.

“Ah,” Roman uttered, a jumble of memories from the past few hours returning. They felt foggy and mildly icky, but mainly the pain in them was the numb kind of pain, the tired kind. Really, it was indistinguishable from the dull ache of his bruises and cuts.

“Yeah,” Virgil said, as though he understood, even though he couldn’t possibly. “Uh, wanna talk about it?”

It was clear Virgil felt awkward asking the question. It was unclear whether that was due to his tendency to be embarrassed by everything he said, or—far more likely—that he wanted to stop babying a stupid prince, and just go about his business.

Roman sat up, suppressing a wince as best he could. “Do you want to hear about it?”

“Of course I do.” Virgil said it without an ounce of hesitation. Roman’s breath caught.

“Oh.” Roman shifted slightly over, and Virgil took a seat by him on the bed. “Okay. Uhm. I don’t know, I just—I messed up.” What else was new?

“...What did you mess up?” Virgil asked, with an inkling of suspicion, like he knew what this was about. But it wasn’t that; it wasn’t the callback—that was over and done and dead. Roman had created so many fantasies, so many crazy scenarios where they could somehow still make it in that stupid movie, and it had always filled him with hope or crushing pain or something, but as of this afternoon? He didn’t even care. It didn’t matter.

So, Roman ignored the question, and instead commented, “Janus got accepted.”

“What the fuck.”

Roman observed Virgil’s stricken expression like an unsettling kind of mirror of himself when—

My name is Janus.

“Yeah,” Roman sighed, “I didn’t take it so well either.”

Virgil looked at him for a long moment, seeming to go through several series of emotions, before he was able to ask, “...What happened?”

Roman inhaled sharply. “I was wrong about being wrong about the wedding. Patton was also wrong; Janus was right, and then Patton was right because he wasn’t a total asshole to Janus, and I’m evil; Thomas hates me; whatever, you get it.”

He thought he would break down, saying it, but he felt oddly… fine. He sat, staring at the same spot as he was before, absentmindedly annoyed at the way his bandages itched. The normalcy of the situation almost made it worse. This sucked. This wasn’t even bad.This was the worst he had ever felt.

“Oook,” Virgil said, clearly not knowing where to start, “I—you—what do you mean: Thomas hates you?”

“Thought that one was self-explanatory.”

“He can’t hate you,” Virgil said with a laughable amount of conviction. “You’re still his… y’know.. goals. Desires. Hopes. Whatever. Just because this one didn’t go… perfectly, doesn’t mean you won’t keep—“ he struggled to find the phrasing for a moment— “...fighting, uh, valiantly for Thomas’s dreams!” he attempted at the encouragement with a weak smile.

Roman just shook his head. “No. I don’t know what he wants.”

Virgil’s smile dropped into confusion. “But… you are his wants.”

“That’s kind of the problem.”

Virgil seemed at a loss, and Roman felt like an asshole. Here he was trying to help him, and Roman couldn’t even be bothered to put on a smile to dismiss him from the duty.

“Please go,” Roman attempted weakly when he couldn’t find a more convincing argument in himself. He was meant to be an actor, but he knew he couldn’t hide the fact that he wanted him to stay, of course he did, so badly. He hoped Virgil would just quit with the chivalry and go despite that.

Virgil sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Shit, I'm going about this all wrong.”

Roman knew it probably wasn’t really him Virgil was mad at, but it was hard not to shrink away anyway.

“Look, Roman—“ Virgil turned to him, looked at him seriously, took his hands in his— “To be honest? I don’t care what happened. I don’t care who was right or wrong—I mean, we all know I’ve been in the wrong more than my fair share. It doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Roman didn’t miss the ambiguity of the end statement. “But… look, you don’t get it. When you mess up, you’re still you. You’re still...,” Roman gestured vaguely, which upset his bandages, and when he looked down at himself, he took note of the black/purple hoodie he was wearing. He melted slightly. This was exactly the point he was trying to make, “You’re still... y’know. Important.”

“Wh—? Of course you’re important, Ro. You’re creativity—“

“Thomas has two of those.”

Virgil looked at him like he was stupid. “Right, as if you’re anything like Remus.”

Roman’s lip quivered at that, and he had to look away, which was so stupid. And suddenly he felt all of the embarrassment at once—of this situation, of everything that had happened before, of the way he was about to cry, in front of Virgil, after he said that, which must look so—

“Roman?”

A hand was on his cheek, softly turning his face towards Virgil’s, though Roman still refused to meet his eyes.

Virgil cursed to himself under his breath. “Shit, this is exactly what I was trying not to say.” He sighed, and Roman hesitantly looked up at him. “Look. Even if you weren’t creativity, if you weren’t hopes or dreams or any of it—if you were a completely pointless side, which you aren’t, but if you were—I wouldn’t care. What I care about is that you’re... Roman. That you bother me until I sing Disney with you, that when you put your heart into something, you do it to a stupid amount, that you make Thomas take trashy buzzfeed soulmate quizzes when he’s stressed, and that you fucking try so hard for everything, even when I’m being a little bitch about it,” he paused. With the hand on Roman’s cheek, he traced the line of a scar down his jaw. It was one of the ones Roman usually made sure to put an illusion over, he noted offhandedly. “I care, because you’re my best friend.”

“Don’t say that,” Roman choked out. He couldn’t handle it if it was a lie, and part of him couldn’t manage hearing it as anything but exactly that. “Just—just—“

“Oh, Princey..”

Virgil held him as he broke. Roman didn’t know how long they sat like that as he let everything wash over him for a final time, let it all truly sink in at long last. He took heaving, messy sobs, no doubt ruining Virgil’s shirt in the process—he was quiet, though. He shook silently, save a couple choked breaths, in the other’s arms--that was a habit he had taught himself long ago.

When Roman had tired himself out, when all that was left was the pain in chest, (which was also suddenly duller—he was healing fast, even for a side—) he pulled back from the embrace. Virgil didn’t move by much, kept them so their fingers were laced together, as they sat staring at each other.

“Uhm. Thanks,” Roman gave a shaky smile, “You really—uh... I... I said some stupid stuff, huh?”

Virgil hesitated before he spoke, as if he knew he shouldn’t ask this right now, but needed to anyway. “...Roman, why’d you go to the Imagination?”

Roman felt ice stab at his chest upon the question. He didn’t want to do this. They had already talked about so much that he shouldn’t have gotten into; this was meant to be the part where they either parted or watched a stupid movie. And this, out of everything, was the conversation he most needed to avoid.

“Uh—I mean, to let off steam?” Roman gave a laugh as best he could. “Obviously, it didn’t go to plan—“

“Didn’t it?”

Roman’s face fell immediately. He struggled to come up with an answer, and even if he had had one, he didn’t think the sound would come out. This was enough of an answer in itself

“Shit,” Virgil breathed. Roman couldn’t help but be mildly annoyed by his surprise—clearly he had already known, he didn’t have to make it a big deal now.

“I… Princey—Roman…” Virgil looked him up and down, and Roman wanted to curl up and hide. “...how many times?”

“Not many,” Roman mumbled. Virgil must have known he was pushing the subject too far, because he just frowned and said,

“OK. I mean...it’s not OK, obviously, but you already know that, I just—“ he sighed. “Just… can you talk to me? Instead? Please? When you feel like… that.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Roman responded hastily, wanting an out from this topic.

Virgil gave him a look. “I’m serious. I mean—look, you don’t even have to talk about it if you don’t want. Just, come to me first, yeah?”

Roman’s face burned; he was embarrassed; he wanted to shrug this whole thing off, or roll his eyes, or maybe scream in annoyance. But the rational part of him knew Virgil was right. “OK,” he agreed softly, “...Thanks. For everything.”

Virgil looked surprised, and then flustered, and then waved off the earnest reply. “I mean, it wasn’t--I didn’t--it’s not like I did anything really--”

“You did.”

Virgil’s face softened. “Yeah, well... you’d’ve done the same for me. You... have done the same for me.”

Roman smiled gently at him. “By the way, Virge--” He hesitated. He was about to sound like a real dumbass if Virgil had only been saying this stuff for comfort’s sake. But making a fool of himself was becoming a theme for him anyway, so he continued, “You’re my best friend too.”

I love you.

In the same beats Roman thought it, Virgil squeezed his hand lightly 3 times. A breath passed between them. An understanding. That Roman couldn’t say it out loud, and Virgil wouldn’t.

Instead, Virgil fell back across the bed, bringing Roman with him in the motion. Roman let out a startled gasp and elbowed him lightly. “Hey! I’m injured, that could have been a fatal impact for me!” he whined.

Virgil snorted. “Yeah, yeah, OK. So, do you wanna watch a stupid movie, or what?”

[not-gae-cuz-i-like-straight-wae]

Part 1: Responding to Jeansaaa

I intended on writing both my response to jeansaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa and another person in one message, but there’s some delay and I only finished the first part some time ago, so I’ll split my message up in two parts with the second part coming later. So NOTE: this message does NOT contain all my answers to this subject and I WILL explain more about the “why’s” in the (I hope) near future.

Introduction:

It’s been a while, but I’ve finally decided to write the respond to both jeansaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa’s last message and someone who I spoke with in the private chat. I’ll start off by saying I’ll call jeansaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa just “Jeanaaa” for short and the other person I’ll simply call “ABC”, because this person preferred to remain anonymous. I’ll respond to this last person later on in this message too, because I might answer several questions others might have as well…

I can’t reblog Jeansaaa’s last message and reply to it, because Jeansaaa blocked me afterwards (I send him/her a private message and asked about whether he/she had never blocked me or unblocked me again and then Jeansaaa said he/she forgot to block me, made a joke about his/her memory, told me not to worry and said he/she would block me with a smiley... like, WHERE even is the logic in blocking someone like THAT), so I don’t even know if Jeansaaa will ever read my message. However, this is a reply to basically everyone who’d say the exact same things in a discussion about lgbt+, so that’s why I’m responding to his/her message anyway and the same thing goes for ABC. I will however speak directly to these people, because it is them who wrote me the things they wrote.

The last thing I wanna say before I actually start writing, is that I might use capital letters and exclamation marks. This, however, will be more often shoutouts out of surprise and confusion instead of anger and aggression or it will be just to emphasize parts of my sentences…

MY RESPOND TO: JEANSAAA

Jeansaaa’s last message:

Listen bro don’t take this personal I have no I’ll intentions at all and I don’t hate straight people ( I’m bi myself so i’m part straight ) but if you’re gonna post your opinions online than your gonna be subject to criticism, and the problem with straight pride is that for centuries lgbtq+ people have been called slurs, demonized even KILLED because of their sexuality, even to this day in certain countries it’s illegal to be to be part of the lgbtq+, until just RECENTLY gay marriage was illegal, nothing like that has happened to straight people, that’s why gay pride exists because homophobia is still ever present, but I’m not gonna shove this in your face, I’m just trying to let you know why gay pride exists and why straight pride doesn’t, have a good day dude 😊

“Don’t take this personal”

Okay, so first of all, EXCUSE ME?! I shouldn’t take it personal??? ERR. Aside from blocking me yourself, you LITERALLY told others to block me as well, so that is PRETTY personal!

No hate to straight people? WOW. I’m blown away!

Like I said before, it would be quite mankind-hating if you’d hate straight people! I know people don’t hate straight people (because THAT would be completely insane), but I still can’t believe we have come so far that you are criticized when you do say you’re straight! Because that’s what’s happening. Lgbt+ supporters want lgbt+ people to show everyone they’re not straight and straight people should shut up about being straight?!

I’m okay with criticism if it’s because I say THESE things…

Yes, I AM posting the things I say online. Those aren’t “opinions”, but I guess it wouldn’t even do any good anymore to explain that to you, so I’ll just say “opinions” to keep it simple… I know a lot of people have the same opinions as me. People that also have no ill intentions (towards the lgbt+ community itself as well), but (like me) they act the way they act and have opinions because they think about it themselves and NOT because the majority (or at least, the ones who are given a voice and scream the loudest and the ones that can control the governments and the media together with – of course – the large herd of people that blindly follows them) thinks that way. Unfortunately, many people don’t dare to stand up for their opinion anymore these days and those who do speak aloud are often silenced. Either because their account gets blocked if they’d speak on the internet or something even worse would happen if they’d stand up for their opinions in real life.

You’re calling the ENTIRE humanity before us STUPID…

So I have a question for you… You say: “for centuries lgbtq+ people have been called slurs, demonized even KILLED because of their sexuality” and you say “nothing like that has happened to straight people”. Now… Don’t you think there is a REASON why all these centuries people thought of lgbt+ as abnormal? Do you really think all these BILLIONS and BILLIONS of people that have lived on the Earth for CENTURIES just thought of lgbt+ as abnormal for absolutely NO REASON?!

Again: I don’t hate gays and don’t feel any need to discriminate them, in case you still thought I did after I already told you a hundred times I didn’t.

Look, I don’t justify the fact that people were killed because of whatever they thought they were or liked and I have said that before. I think they should have human (I repeat: HUMAN) rights and that they should be protected by the government in the country they live in (as long as they act normally, of course, but that applies to everyone). So if they’d get abused or they’d beaten up, the perpetrators should be punished! If people want to make decisions or changes to themselves, it’s their problem. That’s why I also wouldn’t hurt or scold anyone who’s – for example – gay. I fact, some of my very own friends are gay and they know how I think about it, but we have no problems with each other at all. So don’t pretend like I’M the one causing others frustration or whatever!

The problem.

And that’s why I think I should clarify myself one more time: I’m not against gay people. That’s their choice. What I am against is the lgbt+ AGENDA that is being executed (and that too is why I definitely wouldn’t support the lgbt+ community and why I openly said that on my account). I’m against the forcing of changing mankind’s morality. It’s totally fine (to me, at least) if you want to have an opinion, but why all that pushy hassle?! And now it even goes far beyond imposing opinions. Entire cities are changed. I know why and I’ll speak about this more extensively later on, but I’ll first finish my respond to what you’ve said.

I believe you are mistaken about your own goal.

You claim that gay pride is all to make sure gay people will have the same rights as straight people, right? I know many people do. Well, let me tell you something: the way you’re trying to achieve that WON’T change the fact that it’s illegal to be part of the lgbt+ community in some countries! Waving rainbow flags, painting rainbow zebra crossings and creating wall paintings of two men (like I have all seen more than once in my very own hometown and much, MUCH more in the capital city of the country I live in) won’t change a SHIT about what’s happening in faraway countries. And I can tell you another thing: in the places where all these changes for lgbt+ people are made, lgbt+ people already HAVE the same rights! So if you REALLY want to change anything in some country on the other side of the world, GO OVER THERE and try to convince them to treat lgbt+ people differently!

More than just normalizing (whether you acknowledge that or not).

But NO. That’s NOT what you all do. You wave all these flags and stuff here for another reason, because – like I said – lgbt+ people ARE accepted by the community in these countries and waving flags won’t change a thing ANYWHERE even IF it hadn’t already been legalized here. You wave these flags, paint these rainbow zebra crossings and create these wall paintings of two men because lgbt+ is already normalized here, but the lobby who created this agenda wanted people to take it much further than just normalizing the lgbt+ community. That’s also why it’s not called gay “normal”, but gay “pride” and why you all celebrated an entire “pride month”. That’s also why I spoke earlier about you all praising, glorifying or even WORSHIPPING the lgbt+ community now.

So DON’T try to convince me…

… that all these rainbow stuff and same-sex paintings are to reduce discrimination of lgbt+ people (which I, for the record, am also against, but I’ve already explained that before), because it’s NOT. It already IS not allowed to discriminate lgbt+ people in these countries and on social media and you guys are NOT trying to change anything in countries where being gay is illegal, because that would be happening over THERE and not over HERE.

About the next message:

Once again, I know (a couple of reasons) why the lobby wants you all to wave rainbow flags etc. etc., but I’ll speak about that more at some other point in the next (extremely long) message, in which I – like I said earlier – will also respond to someone who texted me in a private chat.

So this is where the first part of my message ends. You’ll hear more of me about this some other time…

[easily-infatuated23]

The Tub: Draco Malfoy x Reader

a/n: this is my first one of these so sorry if it sucks but here goes nothing!

Part Two Here

warnings: just some light fluff, small mention of bullying

summary: reader is having a really hard day and when she goes to relax in the prefects bathroom the unexpected occurs 

word count: 2k

The castle is enormous. So enormous that getting lost becomes part of my daily routine. But sometimes, its so crushingly small it's hard to find a place to be alone to get away from the constant noise of what feels like hundreds of middle and high school students. Everyone’s first choice of escape is the astronomy tower, so much so that a Ravenclaw tried to institute a sign up sheet as to insure the crowds wouldn’t mass as much. They were unsuccessful. The truly hidden places of the castle are few and far between and for those of us who aren’t lucky enough to find the Room of Requirement, we must get creative. The most recent spot I have found is the Prefect’s bathroom on the sixth floor. Moaning Myrtle will sometimes float through but we are on good terms so she generally will leave me alone.

As a Seer, the noise of the world is extra loud in my head. It's bad enough to have the regular noise, but the passing through of others’ thoughts is exhausting. I have gotten better at shielding myself but it takes a lot of energy. The Prefect’s bathroom has been a wonderful solution because within the chamber is a large bathtub which I use as a jacuzzi, to relax and reset. I am just so tired. The added layer of being Seer as well as a non pure-blood in Slytherin, takes its own individual toll. My family had been pure-blood until my parents. My mother had married a muggle man.

I started late in the sequence of years at Hogwarts. My family moved from America to England which meant I transferred into school third year. For a while people were interested in me but that died down within the first month. However, when I let my family heritage slip, I became as talked about as Harry Potter. As a descendant of Merlin himself, people began to attempt to get close to me just for the idea of “fame” rubbing off onto them. Harry and I have had discussions about it together but I know he secretly enjoys it, even if he doesn’t know he does.

Today wasn’t just any typical Thursday. The excitement for Christmas break was buzzing around the castle, practically inescapable. The world was loud and I was tired. Luckily, today is a short day so I was able to escape to the Prefect’s bathroom after lunch. I usually waited until I knew most of the castle was either at a meal or doing homework but today the world had been especially loud. I tentatively filled the tub checking my surroundings for a stray ghost or student. Once it was full I climbed in and allowed myself to fully relax. The noise melted away and it was like I could finally breathe.

After only fifteen short minutes I heard footsteps and looked up to see the last person I would expect or want to see, Draco Malfoy. The Prince of pure-blood Slytherin, the cruelest person within the castle besides Professor Snape. He had never gone out of his way to be mean to me in particular, but if one of his buddies started something he would be sure to join in. When people found out about my abilities, I had been forced to read him in front of practically the whole school. I saw such pain and fear in his life that I nearly passed out. To prove to him that my abilities were real, he told me to tell him something from his past only he would know. I said “a talking diary and a ripped page from a bookstore”. Ever since then, he never challenged me again. And yet here he was now, invading my hidden corner, my escape from everyone.

We locked eyes as he walked in and we both froze. “What are you doing in here?” he asked sharply. I didn’t reply but simply began to get out and grab my things when his voice interrupted my actions. “I’m not gonna make you leave I was just asking. You looked dreadful during Potions today, are you ok?”. For the first time, his words and his tone matched and seemed genuine. “Everyone has been really loud today. Let's just say that if I never hear the sentence ‘is he gonna ask me to the Yule Ball’ again it will be too soon” I remarked. He chuckled and looked down at his shoes. I now became acutely aware of the fact that I was standing in front of him in just a bikini in a steamy room. My cheeks flushed and I slipped back into the tub. “Why are you in here Draco?” I asked. He looked up at me and sighed. “This is usually where I come to hide but I got here a bit later than usual, I didn’t think there was competition for this spot”. I frowned and looked away from him. “Yeah that’s my bad, I usually am in here much later in the day. It’s just been such a loud day already. I needed to decompress earlier than usual”. He walked closer to me, then circled the tub to sit on the window sill. After a few minutes he spoke. “Does it actually help quiet the world? To sit in there I mean”. He gestured to the tub. “Yes it does actually”. I replied.

This was the weirdest but nicest conversation I had ever had with him. I had never been fully alone with Draco before, was this how he was when he was removed from his asshole friends? In a moment of impulsive thought I blurted “You are welcome to join me if you’d like”. Shit. Why did I say that? This guy is literally the worst. “Wouldn’t that just add noise in your head?” he asked. “No, when its a group of ten or less I can actually turn everybody off quite easily. Anymore then that and it gets harder and harder”. He nodded and then looked out the window. I could see his mind working through his grey eyes, deciding if he would stay or go. Finally, he shrugged. “What the hell”. He kicked his shoes off and began to loosen his tie. I wanted to look away but I couldn’t help myself watch him undress. I finally looked away and closed my eyes, relaxing my head on the edge of the tub.

The tub was big enough around that he could sit on the other side and we wouldn’t touch. The water churned as he got it. He sat closer to me than I had anticipated but I tried not to think about it as I took a deep breath and let my mind wander. “This is surprisingly relaxing”. His voice for the first time didn’t sound as strained or coarse as normal. “How did you find out about this?” he asked. I opened my eyes and looked at him, puzzled. “Have you never been in a jacuzzi?”. He shook his head. “Wow well that’s one thing wizards should definitely adopt from the muggle world” I replied, with a smile. He looked away from me quickly. Was that a hint of blush coming from his cheeks? Probably just from the heat of the water I rationalized. “Do you do this everyday?” he asked. “At least once a week. It's good for the soul”.

There was then a long period of silence. At first the silence was uncomfortable, but the longer it persisted, the more comfortable it became. A couple times I could have sworn that the water churned in a way that would indicate him moving closer to me. I didn’t dare check. I kept my eyes closed as the odd smile would flow across my face without thought. When I finally did open my eyes, he was less than two feet away from me. We locked eyes and I smiled. He gave a timid smile back before looking away again. I wanted to use my abilities to slip into his mind and hear what he was thinking but I held myself to a strict rule. “This seems like a pretty necessary time to use it” the voice in my head remarked. I physically shook my head to expel that thought from my mind. I felt his eyes on me. “I wasn’t inside your head by the way. I thought about it but decided that didn’t hold up with my rule so I shook it out of my head”. “You can if you want” he replied. I looked at him and sat up a bit. “My rule is I only purposefully do it if absolutely necessary or if the person gives me permission or asks me to do it. Are you asking me Draco?”.

The words flowed out of my mouth before I could filter them. Was that flirty? Did I just flirt with Draco? The thoughts swirled in my head only to be broken by his response. “Yes I am” he said sincerely. “Can I have your hand? It’s easier if I have physical contact”. I said. He nodded  and stared into my eyes as I moved closer to him. I clasped his hand and imagined his energy and thoughts flowing into my brain. His head was relatively quiet, besides one thought practically screaming. I opened my eyes and looked into his, stunned. “What was I thinking?” he asked in almost a whisper. I swallowed hard. “You were thinking ‘is it wrong that all I want to do is kiss her’”. I felt my cheeks turn red but I didn’t break eye contact. “Is it?” he asked. “No” I replied, unaware that a smile had crept across my face. He smiled back as his eyes darted from my eyes to my lips and back. I moved his hand which I was still holding to my cheek. His free hand moved underwater to my lower back as he pulled me onto his lap. Our faces were so close together I could feel his breath. He moved his other hand to my waist as I cupped his cheeks with mine. In a tender moment, not overly embroiled with passion or lust, we kissed. It was innocent and sweet. It made everything else seem unimportant. It was as if time slowed to a stand still. After a few moments we both pulled away and shared a smile that became a laugh. “I can honestly say this is not how I thought my day was going to go” Draco chuckled. “Me neither” I added. Suddenly a thought popped into my head. “Wait what time is it?” I asked. He checked his watch. “Two o’clock, why?”. “Damn, I promised I would meet Ron for a game of wizard’s chess. I always beat him but he insists on constantly challenging me”. I started to pull away when I noticed his face drop slightly. I pulled close to him again. “I am not making up an excuse to run away from you. Believe me I don’t want to go but if I don’t Ron will come looking for me and this would be a hard situation to explain” I remarked with a chuckle. His face picked up a little. “Are you staying here over Christmas?”. “Yes I am” I replied. “I think I will too, I’ve recently started to fancy you and I kinda want to explore this without the pressure of the whole school being here, if that’s ok with you” he smiled. “I would like that”. “But for the moment we can’t tell anyone what happened here or that we are even friends” he remarked suddenly. “It’s not my favorite reputation to uphold but if my father finds out I am seeing or being seen with someone who is not a pure-blood..” he trailed off. I pulled his face close to mine again and looked deep into his eyes. “You don’t have to explain. Remember, when I read you two years ago? I saw all of your past. I understand why”. His eyes were sadder now but he still managed a small smile. “Ok now I really have to go” I said as I kissed him one more time before climbing out of the tub. He watched me as I changed back into my uniform, smiling a bit more smugly now. “When can I see you again?” he called after me as I walked towards the door. “Friday night, let’s meet in the common room. Everyone will be gone for Christmas by then”. “Its a date!”. I turned back and blew him a kiss which he caught and immediately pressed to his lips. My heart fluttered as I jogged to the Great Hall. “Oi, where’ve you been?” Ron questioned impatiently. “Sorry, got a bit caught up” I remarked, smiling at the secret Draco Malfoy and I now shared.

[andraaste]

I am not your enemy - Lance fanfiction part 7

Chapter 7 too, enjooooy (⚠️ chapter 6 was released at the same time, be careful not to miss it. You can find all the other chapters on the hashtag « i am not your enemy » ⚠️)

(Link for Chapter 8 here)

Chapter 7 : I had just entered his territory

I followed the merry band to the cherry blossom tree, a place where proudly enthroned the two statues representing Leiftan and me, the saviors of the white sacrifice. At one time, I loved this place. It had even been my favorite place in HQ. But today ... every time I walked past these inanimate figures, I felt uneasy. To see us represented in this way put too much pressure on my shoulders. Most importantly, I still had this strange feeling that people kept staring at me.

The others didn't seem to realize it, they were arguing loudly and bickering, but for my part, I couldn't help but pay attention to everything around me. Thus, since the news of my awakening from the Crystal, I had repeatedly caught shifty glances in my direction, often accompanied by whispered conversations a little too loudly. I was totally confused by these behaviors. How to react to the admiration, and at the same time the fear, that we arouse in the hearts of people when they see us ?

At that moment, I had the unpleasant feeling that I understood, if only minutely, what Lance could be feeling. And how loneliness must have weighed on him sometimes too.

I shook my head sharply to try to get those thoughts out of my head. I would no longer fail to come to sympathize with this man's moods. In addition, the atmosphere was at the party tonight, I really had to stop brooding alone in my corner. A good part of the inhabitants of the HQ were present in the garden, it had apparently become common measure here that to celebrate the return of the troops left for the missions of rank A or B, that is to say the longest and most important missions, and everyone seemed to be doing it to their heart's content.

Conversations were mingling all around me and I couldn't focus clearly on any of them, when a brown head appeared in my field of vision. Seeing the mischievous smile that crossed the young wolf's face, I couldn't help but throw myself into his arms.

- Chrome !

The latter hugged me eagerly without losing his smile.

- Andraste, how are you ? I heard you were already doing great things in the infirmary, he chuckled as I pulled away from him.

- What do you want, I still left Eweleïn alone for seven long years, I had to make up for it a bit.

Chrome burst out into a frank laugh close to barking, which made me smile even more.

- When did you come back from your mission ? I questioned him.

- About an hour, which was more than enough for me to hear from you.

- Oh that's just my new celebrity daily, that.

He laughed again before running a hand through his thick hair, his expression suddenly confused.

- And if not, I also heard that you had crossed paths, well you know...

He didn't dare finish his sentence, so I did it for him.

- Lance, yes.

- And that Huang Hua ...

- Made him my new chaperone ? Yes too, I cut him off, slightly irritated at the memory of my meeting with her.

- You know, her decision is not easy, especially for you, but if she decided that it was the best thing to do ...

- Then I'll have to get used to it, I know.

Chrome seemed both surprised and relieved that I was so easily resigned to gently following the Chief of the Guard's orders.

- But you know very well what I think about it, I continued. Okay, I understood that his faults had been atoned for and that he was a great fighter, but I should still have a say in my relationship with him. Except in this case, Huang Hua did not give me a choice and probably to him either. This is what irritates me the most, but I'm far too tired right now to argue with her. So be it.

The wolf was looking at me with big round eyes.

- What did I say that was so shocking ? I asked him, flushing my cheeks.

- You accept her decision without complaining or shouting throughout HQ that Lance is a traitor and that Huang Hua has gone wild ? Maybe you should take another trip to the infirmary, I'm not feeling your best, he said seriously.

I rolled my eyes at his mockery as he laughed again.

- I'm teasing you, don't take it like that !

He patted me vigorously on the back to ease the mood, which probably moved me a side or two in the face of so much delicacy. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to realize that his gesture was a bit too vigorous for my poor human carcass.

- Finally, I hope that Lance and you... he continued.

- Are we going to become the best friends in the world ? Don't expect a mea culpa, I tolerate his presence, at the very least read.

A mocking pout slowly appeared on his face. I raised an eyebrow.

- What ?

- No nothing...

He was trying to keep from smiling, I knew that. I sighed in exasperation before using a tone that meant to be threatening.

- Chrome.

He awkwardly raised his hands in peace.

- Alright, Alright. No, I was just thinking that the two of you are really the same.

I paused for a long time trying to figure out what he was talking about. Sensing my confusion, he continued cautiously.

- You and Lance look a lot alike, he tried to explain to me with a shrug. It's just that it's really blatant, at times.

Sorry ?

Was he really telling me that Lance and I were alike ? How's that, "really blatant" ? He didn't care about me now.

- You know, it's not pejorative at all! I know you and him are complicated, but ...

- Yes we can say that it is rather complicated, indeed.

- But having seen him a lot in recent years, I can guarantee you that it's a compliment !

A compliment ?

- Chrome, you should stop there, I said, putting a hand on my forehead.

- I ... yes, you're right, he finally concluded with an embarrassed laugh.

Suddenly two arms circled Chrome and Karenn placed a kiss on his cheek.

- You are there my loulou ! I was looking for you.

Turning in my direction, she continued :

- Andraste, if I can borrow it from you.

I gave her a polite smile as she already began to pull Chrome by the arm.

- No worries, have fun.

I watched the couple walk away and sighed heavily. I had to admit that I was more than fed up with how everyone valued Lance. But on the other hand, I couldn't deny that I myself had, on rare occasions, appreciated his presence. Well, as much as possible anyway. I found myself thinking about the last time we had exchanged. It was clear that he had gone way too far in our training, but despite that, he still managed to make me feel some semblance of my powers again. And this feat had only happened in his presence.

I think it was time I stopped running away from him.

Abandoning the festivities, in which I had actually not participated so much, I went in search of the dragon. I suspected that Lance should not be very fond of this kind of events and therefore decided to slip away discreetly. The fact of me going away from the evening surprised me the greatest good, I think I could not stand the noise and the crowd very well. Who knows, maybe spending several years meditating in a crystal could create a kind of agoraphobia. Anyway, the more the calm of the night enveloped me, the better I felt.

I finally wandered around the HQ gardens with no real idea of ​​where I needed to go. Where could Lance be now ? And what was I going to say to him, once he was in front of me ?

Despite everything, I decided to head towards the corridor of the guards. Crossing the great hall of doors, I entered the corridor which led to the chambers of the members of the Guard. The night bathed the room in a soft light, but still, I could feel my heart race as I approached the door to his bedroom. What exactly was I going to tell him ? I had no idea.

My hand remained in the air for several long seconds before I mustered the courage to strike, my heart definitely racing. However, no sound from the other side of the clapper reached me in response. Other seconds flowed during which I didn't even dare to breathe.

Maybe he wasn't here, I must have been wrong... I finally lowered my arm, blowing loudly as I passed, and started to turn away when I felt the door open close to me.

- Andraste ?

I turned at the sound of his voice, it also slightly out of breath. It had been several days since I had heard it and surprisingly, it seemed even more serious than usual. Lance then fixed his icy gaze on mine, as if waiting for me to answer him something, but I stood for a moment stuck on the drops of sweat that smeared his chest.

Oh.

- What are you doing here ? he asked me while raising his eyebrows. You need something ?

Take it easy, Andraste. At once.

- I ... no, not really. I just wanted to talk to you, actually, I finally managed to articulate. Well, nothing very special and if I disturb you, we can do that another time.

- Why would you bother me ? he replied without a hint of irony.

His question caught me off guard but he didn't seem to mind. Seeing that I could find nothing to answer, he shifted to the side and invited me in, a glimmer of defiance in the pupils. I hesitated for a moment. Was it really a good idea ?

Slowly, I finally entered the dragon's lair. I felt him close the door behind my back and an icy shiver ran through me as a thought crossed my mind.

I had just entered his territory.

Deliberately.

(Chapter 8)

[beewolfwrites]

And When I am Formulated, Sprawling on a Pin - Chapter Eight: Mad to Live, Mad to Talk

The eighth instalment of my Chishiya x OC/reader fic - you can find it here on AO3 too. 

Thank you to the people who always leave likes and comments, seeing/reading them honestly makes my day :) xx

As for what I mentioned in my last update, I’ll add the references as a chapter at the end of the fic (because some of them will give away spoilers!)

Speaking of spoilers, you guys probably connected some dots (a la hoodie)

Sorry, I'll stop talking - enjoy!

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

The drawl of his voice stretched like a lifeline, pulling me back to myself. Back to the bar.

Chishiya was slouched against the counter, idly watching the scene before him. His eyes dropped to the gun, before rising to meet mine. There was nothing in them, not amusement, not even cruelty. Nothing. They were emptier and darker than they’d ever been. And yet at that moment, I had never been more overjoyed to see him.

‘You should probably put that thing away,’ he said. ‘Hatter won’t be too happy if you start messing with her. He’s got high expectations of her.’

The man pushed the gun further into my skin, sending bursts of anxiety through me. I didn’t want him to pull the trigger accidentally. If he shot me in the stomach, it’d be a slow, painful death.

‘You know Chishiya, I’m pretty sick of you interfering all the time. You should stay out of militant business.’

Chishiya eyed the man with disinterest. ‘Militant business. It’s fascinating what you guys do. You take out the trash and dish out the sentence, but you never check the evidence.’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’ the man snarled. ‘Just shut up and stay out of this.’

‘What I’m saying is that you never bother checking to see if the ‘traitors’ are actually traitors. It’s surprisingly easy to slip a few cards into someone else’s room.’

The tension peaked, and I winced as the fingers around my wrist tightened painfully. Then just as quickly, he released me. He hissed a spew of threats in Chishiya’s face, then stormed off. I hadn’t understood a word, but either way, Chishiya was completely unbothered.

Now that we were alone, he barely even spared me a glance. I half-wondered why he was here. He wouldn’t have come to the bar just to help me. But I also couldn’t picture him as a drunk. As if to answer all the questions floating around in my head, Chishiya signalled to the bartender and said two words.

‘お水をください’ Water, please.

Knowing him, he’d say that alcohol clouds your mind and dulls your rational thinking skills. The bartender set the glass on the counter, but Chishiya didn’t walk away, but sipped his water.

‘Thanks,’ I muttered, although helping me was likely never on his agenda. ‘I’m guessing stuff like that’s pretty common around here.’

‘Well, there are only three rules,’ he said. With one side glance, he zeroed in on the hoodie Kuina had given me. ‘Right now, you’re not allowed to go roaming the city alone because you’re still new, and that makes you a liability. But the next time you’re in a game, you’ll be paired with one of the executives, or someone else with a high rank. If you ask, they’ll go with you to find new clothes.’

I didn’t know how he knew the hoodie wasn’t mine. But I had given up trying to figure out how Chishiya’s mind works.

Before I could ask, he spoke, catching me off guard once again. ‘Come on, Kuina’s waiting for us.’

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

That night, I had found out that Kuina and Chishiya were actually friends. Sort of. It was hard to tell. They hung around together and joked like friends, but instinctively I could tell that Kuina didn’t completely trust him. The days passed quickly, and despite the obvious tension between the militants and the other executives, I found myself actually enjoying it. It was hard not to, with hot water and all.

I spent my days pestering Chishiya to teach me Japanese properly (which he never did). And Kuina and I would chat about the real world. She told me about her mother’s sickness, and how she was desperate to get back to the old world so she could look after her properly. But when she asked about my own life, I filtered a lot of things out. I explained how I was visiting Japan with my brother, and how I had been trying to learn Japanese on and off for a few years just so that I could visit. But when it came to my personal life, I just couldn’t bring myself to talk about it.

‘話せば長くなる,’ I told her. It’s a long story.

The days seemed to dry up under the heat of the sun, and sure enough, my visa was due to expire.

Sitting cross-legged on my bed under the late afternoon rays, I couldn’t help but feel apprehensive after my last game… my first Hearts game… meeting Niragi and Aguni… the laser tag guns… the ball pit… the teenage girl. It had all collected into one big mass, and my throat tightened at the thought of the blood, the darkness.

No, I tried to tell myself. It’s different now. We’ll be put into teams, and I won’t be alone. We’ll clear the games together.

With slightly more resolve than before, I climbed off the bed and quietly left my room, only my stomach dropped when I saw the nasty surprise waiting for me on the other side of the door.

Niragi was leaning against the opposite wall, and the moment I exited, he shot me a grin. I had no idea what he was doing there, probably militant business, so I nodded at him in acknowledgement, then headed down the hall. I knew something was seriously wrong when I heard his footsteps stalking behind me.

‘Niragi,’ I greeted him.

‘Shorty,’ he replied, now walking beside me. ‘You really shouldn’t ignore people, you know. It’s rude as fuck.’

What does he want with me of all people?

‘私を待っているとは知らなかった,’ I told him honestly. I didn’t know you were waiting for me.

‘Ch, as if. I waited there for half an hour. Where the hell are you off to anyway?’

I held out my bandaged arm. ‘これがまだ痛い。だから医療室ではアンに会う.’ This still hurts, so I’m meeting An in the medical room.

Overall, it had healed pretty well. But after the laser tag game, and being kidnapped by militants, the wound had partially re-opened again.

‘I’ll go with you.’

Why??

My gut instinct was telling me to run away, far away.

We turned a corner, stopping in front of the elevators. When the doors pinged open, the group of girls inside immediately stopped talking once they laid eyes on us. They darted out of the elevator, leaving it empty for Niragi and I to enter. I tried not to feel nervous around him. If he wanted me dead, he’d have just shot me already, so it couldn’t be that.

‘どうして待っていた?’ I asked, slowly. How come you were waiting?

Asking Niragi questions felt like a life-or-death situation. Last time I was rude to him he kicked me in the spine. The man was like a loaded gun; he had to be handled with care.

However, he didn’t reply, and the lingered between us until the elevator stopped at the basement floor. We headed down a long, dark hallway, with exposed cables and pipes suspended from the ceiling. This was starting to feel like a really, really bad idea. Seeing the medical room door, I sped up instinctively, but Niragi’s hand grabbed my shoulder, pulling me back and yanking me around. The movement sent shooting pains down through my injured arm.

‘Chishiya,’ Niragi said, eyes glinting with malice. ‘You’ve become pretty chummy with him recently.’

Wait… what?

‘That’s not…’ I hated the way my voice stuttered. ‘そうじゃない.’ That’s not it….

He clearly wasn’t buying it. ‘Tell me what he’s up to. He’s an arrogant little shit and I know he’s up to something.’

Niragi’s grip was too tight, way too tight, and I could barely think straight through the pain. ‘違うよ,’ I insisted. You’re wrong.

‘Am I? I don’t think so, Shorty. You’d better tell me now before I put a bullet in you.’

I didn’t know whether I was scared or annoyed. My heart hammered in my chest, but I was getting pretty sick of his ridiculous questions. I tore away from his hold, inspecting the sleeve for any spots of blood that could’ve seeped through.

‘Stop doing that! クイナのパーカーを台無しにしたくない.’ I don’t want to ruin Kuina’s hoodie.

His brow furrowed a little at this, but I ignored it. Someone like him probably didn’t care about getting blood on his clothes.

I didn’t know how to say what I meant in Japanese, so all I could do was tell him in English. ‘You’re right about one thing. Chishiya’s awful. But you’re wrong about everything else. He can’t stand the sight of me, except when he’s watching me suffer. So even if he did have some kind of plan hatched up, he wouldn’t bother telling me.’

Niragi pulled away and stood up fully. Despite his visible irritation, he was listening all the same.

Perhaps he knows a little bit of the language?

‘And even then,’ I continued, ‘if he was planning something, why would he bother? You know as well as anyone he’s just in this for his own survival and being here at the Beach is his best shot. It wouldn’t make sense.’

A dangerous look worked its way onto his features. I thought right then and there that he’d attack me, kick me with his boot like he’d done before. But he did the exact opposite. With one hand, he twirled his fingers in a strand of my hair, before softly tucking it behind my ear.

I held my breath as he leaned in. ‘Everything you just said,’ he whispered, ‘is complete bullshit.’

Then pulling away quicker than I could flinch, he readjusted his rifle on his shoulder and took off back down the hall. Then he suddenly stopped, as if remembering something, and looked at me over his shoulder.

‘That hoodie you’re wearing… it’s Chishiya’s.’

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

I must’ve looked like I’d seen a ghost, because when I finally entered the medical room, An immediately asked me if I was feeling ill. I tried telling her that I was perfectly fine, but she insisted on taking a bunch of tests to make sure I wasn’t going into septic shock. I couldn’t tell her that it was closer to actual shock.

Even when I finally left the medical room, I still couldn’t shake it off. Except now, the surprise had worn away, leaving sheer humiliation in its place.

Did Kuina steal it from his room?  

When he met me at the bar, he must’ve seen it and wondered where I’d gotten it from. And when he had mentioned asking one of the executives to go shopping with me… he had probably assumed I’d been in his room and taken it.

Oh god…

I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. I wanted to scream and tell him I’m sorry. I wanted to rip the hoodie off and push it as far away from me as I could. But I couldn’t. I still didn’t feel comfortable being so exposed.

‘It’s fine,’ I tried to convince myself, ‘everything’s fine.’ I got into the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor.

My visa’s due to expire tonight, so I can get a new one for myself. I’ll just explain everything to him. It’s almost game time anyway, so he might be in the lobby.

As the elevator doors opened, I wiped any tears away with my hands, careful not to dirty the sleeves, and headed to the lobby. It was packed with Beach residents, either wishing their friends luck or preparing for the games ahead. I found the little table at the front and took the slip of paper with my name on it.

Group Two.

Then I stepped back, leaning against the wall as my eyes searched the crowds. Sure enough, I spotted a white hood, the thin tendrils of grey-blond hair visible beneath. I waited until he took his slip of paper before I stepped forward.

But there was no need. His eyes locked onto mine from across the room, as if he had clocked onto my presence immediately without showing it. He trudged through the masses, coming to a stop in front of me. I couldn’t help but rub my arms nervously.

‘I’m sorry,’ I blurted out, ‘Kuina gave me this hoodie, and I assumed it was hers and that she was letting me use it. But I just found out from Niragi that it’s actually yours. I didn’t steal it or anything, and I’ve definitely never been in your room. I’m so sorry, I had no idea.’

Chishiya didn’t seem surprised at all, or if he was, he was an expert at hiding it. ‘I know,’ he said, at last. ‘You couldn’t have known where my room was anyway.’

Thinking about it, he had a point. When I started wearing this, I hadn’t even left my own room, so I couldn’t have been in Chishiya’s.

‘I guess you’re right.’

I felt his warmth against my side as he leaned on the wall next to be me. ‘But what I told you at the bar that night still stands,’ he said. ‘Tonight, you’ll get the chance to go looking for any clothes or personal items you want.’

‘Once I get some of my own clothes, I’ll wash this and give it back to you, I promise’ I told him. ‘I just need to find out who the executive in my group is.’

‘It’s me.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because the executives create the groups,’ he said. ‘And I happen to be supervising you. Normally, when a new member arrives, we do an aptitude test. We observe them in a game to test their abilities, but I’ve already vouched for your abilities, and there were only two executives with an expiring visa.’

‘That’s….’ I trailed off, then something clicked. ‘Wait, who was the other executive?’

Ignoring my question, he went on. ‘Since I’ve already seen your abilities, your only test will be to survive. If you can do that, I’ll go with you to get whatever supplies you need.’

I tried to keep the smile from my face, but I couldn’t hold it back. ‘Sounds like a deal.’

‘Time for the games!’ a voice called out, excitedly, and the whole room erupted into cheers. The masses of Beach members piled through the doors, trying to find their assigned cars and groups.

At the same time, I hadn’t moved at all. I couldn’t keep my eyes from Chishiya’s. He was looking back into mine with that same calculating emptiness. I could see the cogs turning, but I didn’t know what they were turning for.

Then as quickly as it happened, the moment was gone as he left, disappearing into the crowd.

[dontjudgemeimawriter]

Excerpt/Sketch Scene: Ardisci

I shared lines from this recently but in looking it over I remembered how much I love it so I decided to share. From Ardisci’s POV, Ardisci is the god of knowledge and is living sort of in-hiding on Earth.

---

Alright. So we’re here: Kaitlyn is lying on the couch, reading chapter 3 of her textbook on cultural anthropology. Netalia is lying on the floor, her book— a thick book with thin pages that’s a survey English literature— open above her. It’s open to Lines Written in Early Spring by William Wordsworth, but I’m not sure if she’s reading it— Buttercup, her golden retriever, is licking her face, and she’s laughing and pushing her away. I’m taking notes in my notebook. My reading, Plato’s Allegory of the Cave, is open as a pdf on my laptop, though that’s mostly for show, since Netalia is here. My notebook, which Kaitlyn insists is technically a journal (but it’s not my place to say it is or isn’t— language and labels aren’t my responsibility to determine), lies in front of me, and I’m scribbling in it with a recycled water bottle pen that I got at freshman orientation that Netalia always marvels that I haven’t lost and Kait and I then share a knowing look about. If Kait (and the collective’s) definition of “journal” is a place for writing out one’s own thoughts, rather than simply noting facts for studying purposes, then yes, it is a journal. I don’t have much need for notetaking— even without the constant stream of direct-and-all-encompassing knowledge, simple information—what’s part of the collective knowledge—is provided to me automatically. But that’s why I love philosophy classes. In the science class I took I did find it interesting what aspects they taught or what they knew, but still, so much of it was known information, simply a method by which to integrate that knowledge. It didn’t excite me the same way. But philosophy? No answer came to me automatically. I know how others have answered the question before, yes, but there’s no collective answer, and I can listen to classmate’s opinions and thoughts and I actually feel like I’m learning.

Focusing. I’m journaling on the allegory of the cave. I won’t be able to bring what I write up in class, but thoughts—my thoughts, my own!—are coming tumbling out. Because I know the outside world, the sun, all of it, I am the regular people in this metaphor when everyone around me are the prisoners who know only shadows and can but squint at the sun. Because not knowing and a limited perspective isn't something I was ever able to to really have. Because not that long ago I didn’t even have an “I” through which to narrate. Google doesn't have an “I” and never has a choice in knowing that these are shadows, not the extent of human existence, but maybe I could know only that. And who would feel jealousy of prisoners chained up in a cave with only a fire casting shadows to quantify as real— and since when has jealousy been a thing I feel?

Kaitlyn had been the one to suggest I write, to journal. She’d given me a look that she told me later was frustration (which I don’t feel bad about not recognizing— psychologically speaking, most people don’t recognize the facial expression “frustrated” as they do “happy” or “sad”—it’s not a basic emotion) and said in a very calm voice that as much as she loved listening to my rants, not everyone had the collective knowledge at their disposal—she actually had to study. And she later suggested writing out my thoughts, telling me that writing could be helpful in self-discovery, which got a green-light from the collective knowledge, so I agreed to try it. 

Netalia pushes Buttercup’s nose away. “Buttercup, go-lie-down. I gotta read this.” Buttercup harumphs and trots over to me, pushing her nose into the space between my arm and my waist. That’s something I never got to appreciate—the simple joy of an animal burrowing into you. Of loving you. I suspect that’s something few gods get to experience—at least, outside of the Nature domain. And to have that physical form in which an animal can burrow into.

I can’t write with Buttercup there, so I finish the sentence, put my pen down, and turn to Buttercup, taking her face in my hands and scratching behind her ears. Buttercup starts panting, her tail wagging loud enough to slam against the carpet.

“Did the good doggie get snubbed?” I coo to Buttercup. It’s lucky humans developed a way to communicate thoughts, or I may never have had access to even the concept of thoughts and emotions, just behavior and knowledge of consciousness. At least a person can tell me what they’re thinking and feeling, even if it’s not always true— or all I’d have is what I can tell about animals, what their behaviors indicate. 

“It was not a snub,” Netalia said. “I have to read this.”

I quiet, just smiling at Buttercup and scratching behind her ears. Kaitlyn’s looking at me. I know what face she’s making without looking up, but I look up anyway because sometimes using the human eyes helps me interpret it better. There’s a slight smile. I think it’s in reference to “Some of us need to actually read the assignment.” Just because that’s usually what Kaitlyn likes to tease me about. 

Kaitlyn closes her textbook and sets it down on the table. “Talia, can we take Buttercup outside and play with her a bit? I think Addie’s getting antsy.”

Addie’s not really my name—my god name is Ardisci, and before going into hiding, Kaitlyn called me Ardi, which I love—never had I been close enough with someone for them to need a shortened way to refer to me. It felt affectionate. But going into hiding I needed a name-name, something not quite my god name. Kaitlyn had actually said that Adelaide felt too close to Ardisci to her, but once I’d picked it it had felt comfortable and I couldn’t pick another one, so we went with it. Plus, “Addie” and “Ardi” sounded similar, which made the transition easier. 

“Sure,” Netalia sits up, folding the book over her finger for a moment. “Her toys are in the basket next to the porch.” She stood and sat down on the couch Kait had been lying on.

I stood, giving Buttercup a tug towards the door. Buttercup lept, realizing what we were doing, and ran to the door, barking when it didn’t open for her.

“Hold on, girl.” Kaitlyn followed us over to the front entrance and grabbed her jacket off the hook, then handed me mine. Now out of earshot from Netalia, she said to me, “The rest of us need to actually read the assignment.”

“I know,” I said. My jacket was thick, zippered, and knit, with cables curling up the sleeves. I wanted to try knitting sometime, to see if it was as easy as the information of “how to purl” came into my mind. Kaitlyn had said she’d knit when she was younger, had described how she’d learned to spot the difference between a knit stitch and a purl stitch and how to make a cable or bauble. When I look at it I know, but I have a feeling that that knowledge is different from recognizing it.

Kaitlyn takes a moment to adjust the collar of my jacket, which wasn’t folded properly. “I know you know,” she smiles—me saying “I know” is ironic, she’s said, just as anyone saying “do you know?” is to me. But “know” doesn’t, in my case, always mean knowing, it means understanding, and that (I know) is a different thing. 

Buttercup bolts out the door as soon as I turn the handle to leave—it’s into Netalia’s family’s backyard, where Buttercup has previously been allowed to roam freely, so I’m not concerned—and Kaitlyn shouts to Netalia’s mom that we’re taking Buttercup out. Her mom, Lynette, tells us alright, and that she’s heating up some hot apple cider for us. Lynette was horrified my first year living as a human that I’d never had hot apple cider, and had filled me up on it ever since. I’d told Kaitlyn how I knew what apple was used, the origins of the drink, different versions, what was considered the best mixture. 

“Alright,” Kaitlyn had said. “But the drink you’re drinking right now. Do you like it?”

I’d been confused at first. I’d taken another sip— not really familiar with the concept of myself liking things. I knew it was generally accepted as good, but then I really absorbed the flavor, the heat, the spice, the sweetness. “Yes,” I’d said finally. “I like it.”

I bound outside, running to the basket under the porch and grabbing a frisbee. “Wanna catch?” I ask Buttercup. Buttercup jumps side to side, ready. I swing my arm, try to snap my wrist, and let go. Buttercup runs after it, but the frisbee curves, making about a 60° angle away from where I thought I’d aimed. I laugh, and Buttercup, who started running straight, looks around in confusion.

“I gotta get better at that!” I shout to Kait, and run over to where the frisbee landed. Running is nice, a feeling I’ve gotten used to. The exertion, adrenaline, my lungs pulling in air, my heart beating, lactic acid starting to flow through my muscles (which’ll make them sore later). One of the things I can’t know, I have to feel. I get to feel. I scoop up the frisbee and toss it again. This time Buttercup knows to watch it, and runs after the very curved path it follows. I run back over to Kait, meeting Buttercup halfway as she trots back with it. Kait takes the frisbee.

“Here,” she holds it out, but instead of letting me take it, guides my hand to hold it. She takes me through the motion of throwing it, of the flick of the wrist. “And here you let go. Eyes on your target.” she says. 

I know how to on an instructional level, but when Kait releases my hand for me to try, this time I pay attention not to the collective knowledge, but her instruction. I follow through, and this time it goes straighter, only curving a bit at the end. Buttercup races after it, then picks it up from the ground.

“Better,” Kait observes. She’s staring at Buttercup at first, but her eyes don’t follow the return, so she seems to have spaced on the trees. “Russell never quite figured out how to throw one,” she said.

I take the frisbee from Buttercup, spinning it in my hand for a moment. I don't look at her, knowing she won’t notice me averting my eyes.

I still haven't told her. I should tell her. It’s my obligation really, to our friendship and to my role as god. But really, just because I am the god of knowledge, did that mean I have to tell her? I’m trying to escape that role.

She’ll find out eventually. And maybe I can say I just hadn’t thought of it— I’d been shutting down the constant stream of information, and one person's death isn’t collective knowledge. If I hadn’t wondered, I still wouldn’t know, not actively.

But I do know actively. I’d checked in and realized. And decided not to tell her.

Her brother had died two years ago. That’s why he��d never found her, never shown up. I hadn’t known him, not really, but I knew him somewhat through Kait, though her memories and relationship. 

Maybe it’s a bit selfish, too. I don’t know how she’d react, but I have a feeling (that was new too, having a feeling) that knowing might change things. It might lead her back to her family, and yes perhaps I can stay in hiding without her, but I don’t want to.

A part of me has always longed to do this. Live as a person, learn, experience. Not be the source of all knowledge for once. And part of why I finally had was the pressure had gotten worse—but really, a large part of it was meeting Kaitlyn. Kait, who never used me, who never asked questions I wouldn’t know if I wasn’t god of knowledge. Who actually got to know who I was, with enough patience to handle me. Who’d believed I even got the chance to be an I.

I throw the frisbee again. It arcs a bit, but Buttercup jumps up and catches it midair. “Whoo!” Kait cheers. 

I bend down, clapping and then petting Buttercup. “Good job!” I tell her.

“Good job to you,” Kait says, tousling my hair the same way I’m tousling Buttercup’s ears. I grin.

[blubberingmess]

Ready to comply [Android!Bucky x fem!reader]

Summary: you accidentally drunk-'bought' an android, what could go wrong?

*sigh*

Warnings: a lot of cursing and mention of sex. Heavily inspired by the video game called 'Detroit: Become Human', don't worry everyone can still read this.

|3043|

      "No, don't leave me! Please."

      "I have to... It's for the best, Maria."

      "No! Alejandro, don't do this to me!

      The sound of the old show from the 2030s and the crunch of the chips on every bite you make were the only things that can be heard inside your small, dingy apartment.

"You really need to take care of yourself! I mean, look at this! Why is there a bra on the freaking counter?"

Ah yes, and also the loud nagging of your big sister. You love her, you really do, but sometimes you just want to just punch her in the face for being so loud every time she comes to visit.

You simply ignored her and continue watching the show in front of you, shoving a handful of chips in your mouth and crunching down on it a bit loudly on purpose. The sound of heavy footsteps can be heard emerging from the kitchen area and stopped in front of you.

Looking up with an unamused expression on your face, you are met by your sister's glare with her arms cross over her chest. Her luxurious clothes and accessories just makes you wince at how bright it is, the urge to obnoxiously hissed at her and hide away from such brightness is strong.

"You need an android."

You were about to actually hiss at her when you were stopped by her sudden suggestion, although, it's more of a command rather than a suggestion. You blink, slowly registering what she just said.

"The fuck do I need an android for?"

Your apartment might not look the best but it's home. Your sister just isn't used to such place, living the life as a supermodel and traveling around the world. Your apartment looking like shit is not a good valid reason for you to buy one. You can take care of yourself, plus, those things are expensive and may you add, weird.

You're not against them, to be honest you're fascinated by CyberStark's inventions; A fan of Stark himself. His inventions just gives you the creeps becasue of how human-looking they are. Kept you guessing who is an android and who is a human when going out.

Thankfully enough, CyberStark designed their androids with an LED in their right temples, one of the distinction of androids between humans. But still...

"Your apartment is a mess. You aren't taking care of yourself or even cook yourself some decent food--"

"I can cook! I just don't feel like it," you protest, clearly offended.

Your sister ignores you and resumes on listing off the reasons why you needed an android with with you groaning every sentence. Finishing off with a, "-- also, you haven't gotten laid in months."

You clicked the pause button on the remote and toss it beside you, mouth agape. "Why the fuck do you care about my sex life all of the sudden?! And for your information, I'm broke. I can't afford a normal android, more so an android with a dic-."

She sighed. "Do you even have a job?" Yes, I hack shits for a living.

You pursed your lips together before answering with a casual chuckle, "Of course I am, sis." You quickly moved the subject before she could ask anymore, "The point is, I don't have enough money to buy myself an android."

"Even the cheaper ones? They only cost ten grand."

Not all of us are getting paid just by posing in front of the camera, sis.

"Even the cheaper ones," you repeated, shoving a piece of chip in your mouth. You were about to grab the remote you tossed beside you but stopped when you heard her speak.

"Here."

You widened your eyes at her outstretched hand, more specifically, the black card. "Woah what? Are you serious? No."

"Yes. Give it back to me as soon as you bought an android. Don't forget, I'll get notified on every purchase you'll be making so don't you dare waste my money."

"What if I want to order some parts for my Nitro? Or my computer suddenly blows up?"

"Not a surprise, but no. Just an android. Order some foods if you want but that's all."

"Um... thanks."

|12am|

      The nearest CyberStark branch isn't what you called 'near', it's about a mile away from your apartment; a few minutes drive using your beloved motorcycle; Nitro.

You decided to give yourself just one glass of wine a few hours ago just to let yourself unwind; think about your life choices. But the more you think about it, the more you didn't noticed that 'one glass of wine' became a 'one bottle of wine'.

Now here you are, currently in the middle of the empty sidewalk, staring up at the brightly lit logo of CyberStark all while trying to stay upright.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped inside the shop and widen your eyes in awe. The inside is very bright and clean in contrast to your outfit which is a mismatched pajamas; is a bit wrinkly and slightly dirty - is that a ketchup stain? Whatever.

You're the only customer inside, thank God.

"Hello ma'am. How may I help you?" You yelped at the sudden voice and glanced at your left to see who it was. A blue LED on It's temple; It's a female android with blonde hair and blue eyes, attractive and unnaturally symmetrical - a typical look for androids, they have to be symmetrical and pleasing for the human eyes.

"Um, yeah. I'm looking for an android?" You mentally smack your head at the stupid question.

The female android nodded it's head, gesturing towards a line of different kinds of androids. "What kind of android are you looking for, ma'am?"

"I don't... I don't actually know." It feels weird talking to someone who looks like a human but is clearly not.

"We have androids that are specialized for house work." Gesturing at the left said of the shop where there are different kinds of varieties of androids are staring into space, only blinking every few minutes.

The female android gestures towards the right side of the shop where another line of different looking androids are. Just like the left side, they just stands there, only blinking and staring into space.

They look... so lifeless.

"On the right side, we have androids that are specialized for caregiving; seniors and toddlers. To the back we have..."

The voice of the android was suddenly blocked off from your ears, focusing at the large box in a vertical rectanglar form that's being carried by two androids while a human man beside them talked, carrying a clipboard in his hand.

They carefully placed it on top of a small platform before opening the metal box and almost choked on air at what you saw.

Even with its eyes closed, you could tell that the android is handsome. It's a model you've never seen before, a new model perhaps? It's hair is brunette; neatly trimmed to the sides while it's thick, curly on top. It's dressed in the usual android uniform of CyberStark, with the necktie and such. You could tell that this android is much more built than the other models, and maybe a bit more taller as well.

"What's that?"

The female android stops and searched her eyes to where you are pointing at, LED flickering from orange then back to blue.

"Android B107, the latest android of CyberStark." The two androids and the man from before walks away after making sure the said B107 is all ready and set for the day.

You walked towards the said B107, giving it a once over and hum in appreciation.

"Does it work?" You shove your hands inside your pockets (thankfully your pajamas has pockets), casually and unashamedly checking out the currently asleep android.

Damn, look at those thighs.

The female android's LED started to flicker once again before answering, "Yes." She walked up to the platform where the B107 and pressed a button on the small white stand, tapering up where a small red button is located, before stepping back.

With a single push of the button, the BB107 came to life. You watched in awe as it slowly opens it's eyes, blinking a few times before it focuses down on you.

He looks so soft and innocent, like a puppy.

"Pleasing to the eyes indeed," you whispered. You watched at how his bright blue eyes scanned your whole face before staring up ahead like the rest of the androids, blank and spaced out.

You hate it.

Turning your eyes back at the only android you can talk to at the moment, you asks,  "What does it do?"

It's LED flickered from blue to red real quick as soon as you asked the question. "I'm sorry ma'am, but it's classified for now," it answered monotonously.

You quirked an eyebrow at it and unconsciously started fiddling the small device inside your pocket. "What? Then why is it placed here then?"

"I'm sorry ma'am, but it's classified for now." Again, with that monotonous, android-esque tone in its voice.

A scoff left your mouth and sassily roll your eyes. "Then tell me something about the android that isn't classified. Geez."

Both of you unbeknownst at the small movement from the B107, it's eyes locked down on your frame. Eyes slightly narrows as it tried to read the datas and information in front of his lens, almost all are empty except for your name and a file he can't access.

[(Y/n) ::surname not found::; ::age not found::; ::year of birth not found::  occupation: unknown;]

[History; not found]

[File.exe 09002576] - [File can not be opened]

The B107 analyzed your movements and the way you lightly swayed side to side.

[(Y/n);; intoxicated]

"B107 is a prototype, first of its kind."

That immediately got you hooked and without having a second thought, you whirl your whole body towards the blonde and grinned.

"I'm buying this one."

The blonde simply shakes it's head. "I'm sorry ma'am, but the B107 is not for sale."

You inhale, grasping the small device a bit tighter. "Oh? Why's that?"

"Just like the recent models, CyberStark have yet to introduce the model before deciding if they should sell models like B107 in the future."

You hummed with a quick look around the empty android shop, before pointing behind the android. "What about that one? I'm sure it's for sale."

The gullible android turns her head to look at where you're pointing at and saw a stray dog peeing on the large glass window of the shop. Before the android could even turn back around, you immediately sticks the tiny cube like device on It's arm.

The android immediately started sizzle and popped the moment the device came contact with it. It's outer skin deactivated around the area, the white plastic coming into view.

Small sparks are coming out from its LED light before the android completely stopped moving, standing still with its eyes wide open.

You're no monster, you just turned it off; reset all of it's data and delete all the scans of your face the android made.

"If I told you to sell me the android, Sell me the fucking android," you slurred, already feeling your head spin. You quickly grabbed the small screen from its hand and blindly scanned the black card before tossing it behind you without a care.

The BB107 watched it all happened before him and can't help but feel... slightly amused. The corners of his already lightly upturned lips lifts up more into a tiny smirk while his eyes remained blank.

The B107 averted it's gaze from the deactivated android and look back down at you, hands unwrapping from its back and down to it's sides.

"B107... B... B... Bucky. Yeah, I like the sound of that. Your name is Bucky." You snapped your head on the now 'dead' android and points your index finger to your 'Bucky'. 

"You heard that? His name is Bucky." Before swinging your attention back to your android, puffing your chest - a futile attempt to look superior since he's basically towering over you with or without the platform, not to mention, much more powerful.

"You probably know this by now; noticed you scanning my face. My name is (Y/n) and I'm your owner now, do you understand?"

[Face scan>>(Y/n):acquaintance]

Bucky nodded his head once, not hiding the smirk from his face. "Ready to comply, (Y/n)."

The sound of his voice is so deep and smooth, so... arousing.

You physically shook your head at the thought of jumping the android's bone, you don't even know if he is one of those kinds of androids, yet. Maybe next time.

Also,'Ready to comply' ? That was new.

"Good. Now let's go, I'm hungry." You wrapped your hand on his cold ones and intertwined your fingers together. Surprisingly, the android lets you.

Unbeknownst to you, you didn't actually activated the small screen after you took it from the female android and just unceremoniously tossed it behind you.

You didn't actually paid for the android. That means you don't own the B107 in anyway, and yet... he lets you drag him out of the CyberStark shop like you do.

Chapter 2

How's the AU? Didn't find one with Bucky yet. Let me know if there is, I wanna read one 🙏💛

[chasneedsamoustache]

A bard’s family reunion

It was already dark when Geralt, accompanied – as he had been for almost a month now – by the troubadour poet Jaskier, reached the inn that would serve as a welcome bed for the night. The pair had been on the road for long enough to be in need of a bed that was not made of branches and rocks and also, most certainly a hot bath, for they both stank.

The red-faced and ill-mannered innkeeper scowled at Geralt – almost a moment too long for the tired witcher before shrugging his shoulders and declaring there to be no room available. If it wasn't for the raucous in the adjoining room, which Geralt presumed to be the main area of the tavern, he may have argued with the man. Instead he lingered, assaulting the the innkeeper with his narrowed eyes, long enough for Jaskier – who had gotten fed up of waiting with the horses and paid a young child a penny to do the job for him – to enter.

At the sight of the bard with, as always, a lute on his back and for reasons that for once did not seem to the witcher to be about him or his mutated existence, the innkeeper suddenly lit up, snapped his fingers and proclaimed there to be a spare room as Jaskier was 'one of those lot'. Geralt took the key offered to him, caring not that the red-faced man was entirely mistaken as whatever was meant by 'that lot' could not apply to the bard who had not even heard of this town, let alone this inn.

“I have a bad feeling about this.” Jaskier whispered to Geralt once they had handed their mounts over to the stable boy. “I'm sure we're going to get ourselves into some sort of trouble.”

“As long as that trouble happens in the morning, after a good nights sleep, I am not going to begrudge a little nuisance.”

“Says you, dear witcher, when it was only upon my own entering the establishment that we were permitted a room and thus it is I who will be in trouble for falsely taking up residence in some other poor fools room!”

“Worry not until you are at least bathed and fed, Jaskier.” Geralt said wearily. “Fed being the priority right now, my stomach is an empty cavern and I fear a monster has taken residence there as it is growling rather loudly.”

The troubadour sighed and gave in, his own stomach empty, he agreed that at least they should eat before they were chucked out onto the street for being imposters.

They entered the main section of the inn, Geralt led but paused when greeted by a room packed to the rafters of merry makers, young and old and of a variety of wealth that the witcher had certainly not expected out here in the countryside. Jaskier appeared beside him, looking equally disheartened at the lack of available seating.

The crowd, bristling with excitement, seemed to be centred on a small area with a raised wooden platform that looked to be stage, although it was currently empty of whatever or rather whomever had drawn such a large gathering. Waves of excited whispers and louder giggles passed over the crowd, ignored entirely by the two men who were still scouring the room for even a small space on a crowded bench.

“Perhaps we ought to take a meal in our room.” Jaskier said, having to practically shout to be heard over the hubbub. Geralt turned to his friend with a frown that begged him to repeat himself. Despite being able to hear the bard clearly if he whispered in a hail storm, he had not being paying attention. “I say, pehaps-”

Jaskier stopped mid-sentence, his face turned pale and twitched it's way into a grimace, the likes of which Geralt had never seen on the bard before. Nose wrinkled, Jaskier turned on his heel and made for the exit, announcing that, under no circumstances, could he stay in this place a moment longer. He cried out when the witcher grabbed him by the shoulder, eager to remind him that this was the only warm bed within a days ride.

“You don't understand.” Hissed Jaskier, squirming free of the witcher's grip.

“It matters not how you have wronged-”

“This is worse, we must leave and quickly!”

“Julian!” Too late, Jaskier blanched again and fell back against Geralt in his usual dramatics – although Geralt was not entirely sure it had not been a genuine faint this time for his friend's face was ugly with sickness and fear before the fellow who had called his name, his real name.

“Julian what on earth are you being so ridiculous for?” He approached, dressed as eccentrically, perhaps more so, than the bard who had returned to an upright position. “Oh forgive me, I forgot you don't use that name in public. Jaskier, I'm so glad you've made it! Everyone will be excited, for they were determined you had not even received the numerous invitations sent to you the even more numerous places you have been sighted in recent months. Indeed I believe I have some money to collect as it was only I who placed a wager in favour of your attendance. I thought that innkeeper had given the room we had kept for you, just in case, away to some imposter! ”

“No.” Jaskier's voice was not much more than a wheeze. He looked from Geralt to the room, desperately looking for an escape, for the fellow was blocking his exit.“No.”

“I beg your pardon?” The fellow, who, had precisely the same cornflower blue eyes and chin, and, though his nose was a different shape entirely, could only be Jaskier's brother, perhaps cousin, but brother was much more likely, such was there resemblance in face and mannerism. Geralt found himself raising an eyebrow. “What on earth do you mean by no?”

“Wh-what do you mean by invitation? I received no such thing.” The witcher thought that perhaps he had, but since he squirrelled away any word from his family, which was always the very last thing Jaskier was willing to discuss, he presumed any invitation was lost in the pile of unopened letters the bard thought Geralt did not know about.

“Then this is a happy coincidence! Destiny! Wonderous are the gods who have brought you here on the day of our great reunion!”

“Reunion?” Geralt smiled unpleasantly and Jaskier glared equally as hideously at him.

“Yes friend! Do not worry, brother-mine, it matters not that as usual your manners are lacking, for this man needs no introduction. White hair, yellow eyes, two swords! He could only be Geralt of Rivia! The white wolf! The witcher! The source of all the ballads and such that have made my dear brother famous across these lands. A good friend I believe and thus a friend to us all and certainly welcome at our table for the festivities!

“To answer your question, good witcher, this week is a grand celebration, a reunion of now all of the siblings of Lettenhove, in honour of our good father's birthday, rest his soul. We have commandeered this fine tavern and indeed the town hall and will be playing every night from now until midsummer – Papa's actual birthday if you would believe it – where we shall host a mighty feast and concert!”

“And, if it's not too rude to ask, for my dear Jaskier has failed to inform me of any of his familial relations,” Another, even more hideous glare was earned for the most subtle of Geralt's sarcastic tones, known only to Jaskier for being sarcastic and taken entirely sincerely by anyone else. “How many siblings are you?”

“Fourteen, including Ju- ah Jaskier here and myself.” When Geralt coughed, choking on his own surprise, Jaskier himself stepped in.

“We do not, of course all have the same mother.” He said sneeringly, the sneer was directed at Geralt alone.

“Of course, can you imagine such a poor lady?”

“No, Papa was, as I am, quite the ladies man and a good deal of my siblings were born outside of wedlock. Once he did marry, he remained faithful, I might add, for I do not wish you to think poorly of the man.”

“No, though I do wonder if there is more of us out there.”

“By the gods, John, I hope not!” Jaskier shuddered, finally naming the man in front of him. “I shall explain, dear witcher, but first, brother-mine, I am in incredible need of a drink and whatever passes for food in a place such as this.”

“Certainly! Of course, how rude of me! Come this way!” John waved his hand, much in the same way as Jaskier did when he led Geralt, sweeping and extravagantly. The witcher wondered who learned the technique from who.

Once seated on possibly the most packed table, filled with not only platters of roast meats, steaming fish and an assortment of bread and vegetable dishes, ale tankards and dull goblets full of wine that Geralt immediately knew had corked long ago, but also with at least seven of Jaskier's siblings. Their faces a strange mixture of the bard's familiar features and some that were not nearly as familiar nor pleasant, yet suited each face well. All had the same cornflower blue eyes and all were fixed on either the witcher or his friend, who by all accounts was sulking.

Another sibling had drawn the attention of most of the crowd that filled the rest of the tavern, sitting on stage with a lute, she sung gracefully and played just as well as Jaskier himself. A few, mostly young women of varying levels of beauty, still had their eyes on the table at which Geralt now sat. Eyes on the handsome men there, Jaskier still apparently judged as the most beautiful as most now gazed longingly at him, despite the grimace on his face.

He ignored them all until his friend elbowed him gently, knowing a pretty face or two would soon improve his mood – which it did, tremendously, the bard's grin quickly returned to his face as his winks sent women swooning and blushing. Geralt himself was simply relishing in not being the centre of attention and disgust, there were far too many pleasant young men and indeed women at the table for anyone to notice him and his yellow eyes, let alone be disgusted by them. Save one girl, when Geralt met her gaze, she smiled and nodded faintly to him.

“And now, dear friend, I shall endeavour to explain my peculiar family.” Jaskier interrupted the exchange, now feeling merrier having quickly emptying two mugs of beer, a third in a hand he swung about to draw attention. “My Papa, Joshua Austin Pankratz, seventh Viscount of Lettenhove, like myself -”

“And your all of your siblings.” A woman who looked to be in her early thirties with the same soft curl as Jaskier in her auburn hair, holding a babe in one hand and a turkey leg in the other, interrupted. Geralt had the impression that this was not the first time she had had to remind Jaskier to include more than just himself.

“Yes, like myself and all of my wonderful siblings was a bard, a troubadour, a poet, a man of music and although talented with many an instrument, favoured, like myself and my siblings, the lute. Before his own father passed away, he roamed the countryside and courts, playing to much applause and gaining fame which rivals my own. He also found his way to the bed of many a woman and some of those women provided him with gifts in the form of my older brothers and sisters.” A few of the men and women in the middle of the table nodded, one, the redhead with the babe, rolled her eyes so viciously she appeared to strain them. Jaskier ignored her.

“Papa,” Jaskier continued. “Was most unhappy when he was forced to give up his life as a bard and return to the family estate in Lettenhove to settle down as the Viscount. Soon after he wed my lovely mother, may she rest peacefully.”

“If your lord father had to settle down, then why are you still wondering the countryside like a pauper?” Geralt asked and his friend sneered again, turning his head from Geralt's raised eyebrows and questioning gaze.

“Our dear brother,” Said John, chuckling as he bit into a rather large slice of spiced pork pie, which caused him to choke, spluttering astonishingly elegantly into a handkerchief until the man beside him gave him a rather firm smack on the shoulders. “Thank you Johan – where was I? Oh yes, our brother, himself now the Viscount of Lettenhove, has a rather splendid advantage that our dear departed Papa did not. Juli- oh pox, do forgive me brother, Jaskier here, has a wealth of siblings with whom he shares the responsibilities that come with his title, leaving him Viscount in name only for most of the year, whilst we all take turns in running our little corner of the world. All of us except Jennifer, who is still too young, that is.”

“How did you trick your family into such an arrangement?” Geralt directed the question to his friend.

“Oh, before Papa passed away, we all took turns in threatening to give up the title and pass it on to the next sibling until all that was left was poor little Jennifer, at the time was still inside her mother's belly. A late surprise that one, didn't know Papa still had it in him. Anyway, it was he that suggested that, although I, being the oldest son borne of marriage, would officially be the Viscount, we split the responsibility – bastard or not. Works out to less than a month a year, which in order to keep our land and our money and so on, really isn't that much hassle, even for a group of travelling poets. ”

“Quite so.” John agreed, as did a few of the others.

“Come to think of it, who's in charge if you are all here?” Jaskier asked with a strangely concerned tone.

“Oh, Jac's husband, just for the week.” John replied.

“I suppose that is fine.” Sniffed Jaskier. “So anyway, we take it turns to, you know, be the Viscount, in order of age. Johan is the oldest, sat beside John there, then Judith at the end of the table, John, who you know, Jessica, currently performing and younger only by a few months, Jemima, born of my mother but before she wed my father, who is over there with a babe. How many have you now, dear sister?”

“Fetty here is the fith.”

“Goodness, are you also trying to create enough children for an orchestra?” Jemima scowled but was distracted by patting the babe back to sleep.

“Yes Geralt, our dear father realised at some point that a few more children and he may well have his own little troupe or orchestra. The joke is that we all turned out to love the lute and the lute alone.”

“Except for Jennifer.”

“Indeed, except for Jennifer who plays,” The bard let out a sigh which was echoed by a few of more vibrantly dressed siblings. “the triangle.”

A snotty-nosed and rather mucky girl, who could be no older than eight or nine, sat on the end of the table, grinned suddenly and it was only then that Geralt saw the resemblance to Jaskier. She snuffled her nose, which was in desperate need of wiping, and held up said instrument. A piece of thin metal bent into the shape of a triangle, hanging from a string. The girl hit it with a metal stick, rather triumphantly and Geralt smiled at her for ignoring her siblings sighs and being proud of her own talents. Johan beside her patted her on the back and pulled a rag from his pocket for her to wipe her little nose on.

“So after Jemima,” Jaskier was now determined to finish his explanations. “Came myself. Then, Jacob, Jacqueline, Jasper, who is doing a terrible job of wooing that poor lady over yonder, and Jane, beside me.

“And then, my dearest darling mother sadly left this world, the pox took her. Papa was most unhappy for a long time, until he found Sasha, whom he wed after some time, much to all of our relief. Afterwards came Joel and Jeremiah and finally, our very, very late little egg, Jennifer.” Jennifer grinned again, puffing up proudly as if she had planned her own conception.

The evening continued and amidst eating and drinking and bouts of applause, Geralt heard more and more about Jaskier's family. A hundred different tales from when they were young, including the day Jennifer was born and they all stood on the battlements with their father and played their lutes in unison until they were shouted down by the nursemaid for disturbing the new baby. It did however, become a tradition that they met once a year and played together on the battlements, now joined by little Jennifer who hit her triangle enthusiastically in time with the others.

The witcher heard other stories, from all the siblings, who came and went, sometimes in large groups, back and forth from the stage. Family squabbles and disagreements, silly spats and fights – some of which were still unresolved –  as well as many adventures they had happily shared and heart warming tales of happy times.

Stories of rule as Viscount, and of when Jaskier had vanished for almost an entire year, which turned out to be entirely Geralt's fault. He was forgiven but warned not to occupy his friend's time in late spring again. He heard too, happy stories of love and siblings supporting one another and soon Geralt understood the family to, despite Jaskier's half-hearted protests, truly care for one another.

Jaskier himself, now rather drunk on beer and corked wine, seemed to be the biggest champion of all his siblings, cheering them on and arguing – sometimes a little too aggressively – with them when he was praised above them. Truly, it seemed to Geralt that he loved them dearly, each and every one. Even if the bard ended up as the butt of many a joke, now released of any pretence, he laughed along side his siblings, heartedly and with no sign of sourness.

At one point Jaskier announced that he had in fact received the invitation and had pushed Geralt to come through here, despite pretending to have no knowledge of this place, when indeed he knew it to be the only inn around and that, by the time they reached it, Geralt would be sick of sleeping outside. The witcher himself laughed most heartedly, declaring that he had been played most cunningly, which in that moment he realised he had. He even joined in with the applause when Jaskier stood up and bowed to the cheers and laughter of his siblings for tricking a witcher.

When the dawn approached, Geralt had the pleasure of carrying Jaskier to bed. He was surprised that all the siblings, even Jennifer – though she had been asleep on Johan's lap for many hours – stayed until the innkeeper told them he must prepare for the day that had already arrived. It was only when they were on the stairs and finally alone, that Geralt asked Jaskier why he had hidden his family for so long and why even when they had arrived, he had tried to run.

“I want to be Jaskier, not Julian Alfred Pankratz, when I'm with you. And I thought that if you met my family that would change.” The bard said, his speech so slurred that Geralt could only just understand what he was saying. “They're good people, a good family, but I dislike that I'm a Viscount. I'm a bard, Geralt! A bard and only a bard! I've only used my title to get you out of trouble – like that time they caught you swindling the crown because of that red haired witch.” Geralt met Jaskier's blurred gaze and his friend began to giggle. “What I'm saying is,” He dribbled when his laughter had subsided. “The person you are friends with is Jaskier, troubadour, poet, womaniser, a man whom doesn't have a family with fourteen siblings and an increasing number of nieces and nephews. A man who can stand tall on his achievements, unique and talented and not one of many and not even the best among them.”

Jaskier's voice grew quiet and Geralt shook his head at such a notion.

“Dear friend, for you are truly my friend, perhaps the only true friend I have. Not because of your musical talent, nor your proficiency at bedding women and certainly not because you are a man without a family – though I did have you down as an only child, I must admit. No, dear, dear Jaskier, you are my friend for many reasons, your courage for one. You have been to places and taken part in things more dangerous than any normal man and from what I gather, certainly any of your siblings would readily involve themselves in. You have also saved me more times and in more ways than I can count. You are loyal, a horrible wretch, hilarious and utterly unique and with qualities I cannot even put into words, for I am no poet, but all of which make you my very dear friend and that will not change whether you are lonesome Jaskier or Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, one of fourteen or even a hundred siblings, all of whom play the lute with the exception of Jennifer who plays the triangle. You are my friend Jaskier, and always will be.”

The bard looked at Geralt with eyes shimmering with tears and, just as Geralt though he would speak, Jaskier turned his head an vomited into a plant pot.