#and if you do ask large numbers of questions then you are building a relationship... so take care to act like it

[skipper19]

Imagine this..

Alpha!Keigo, who always made sure his mate was well taken care of. There was never anything that you would ever need or want because you already have it, so there's no need to long for it any longer. Keigo keeps his feathers hidden around the house, and a not so hidden one wrapped around your neck as a courting gift. These feathers will always let him know when his little omega is in need of something.

Alpha!Keigo put that specific feather on a necklace because it was the very last courting gift he provided to you before he asked you to be his mate, officially. Not that it was necessary. Keigo always made sure it was obvious to the people around you both that you belonged to him, bond mark or not. Not to mention the stench of nothing but Takami Keigo wafting off of you most times. Which was totally not intentional.

Alpha!Keigo was so twisted with his own emotions the first time another Alpha approached you. One one hand, Keigo knew you were his loyal omega, and you would politely reject the other Alpha, but on the other hand, Keigo wanted nothing more than to hold you so close that his scent was permanently marked into you. He wanted to growl and prowl at the other Alpha, maybe even show off your bond mark that he so happily gave to you when your relationship became official. Thank God Keigo had a reputation as the number two hero to upkeep because if he didn't, he may have actually taken the second option.

Alpha!Keigo became so flustered and nervous on the inside that the media found out about his omega mate. No one would leave you alone. Either it be asking questions about you during an interview or trying to take a picture of you as you walk down the street. Keigo hated when the reporters would spot you on the street when he wasn't there. You always come home smelling of anxiety and nervousness. Keigo, the adoring Alpha that he is, always made sure to calm your nerves on these occasions. Fortunately, you grew accustomed to the press after some time, and you easily avoided them.

Alpha!Keigo notices a rather large bruise on your arm one day, and after further investigation, he discovered it to be a hand mark. Keigo persuaded you (made you cum until you were a crying, blubbering, mess) until you finally revealed that a reporter had spotted you on the road today. You were walking home from work. The male reporter thought it would be a good idea to corner you so he could ask questions. You, rightfully so, attempted to just walk away like you always do. But this guy, alpha no less, grabbed your arm so you couldn't leave. Keigo was seeing red.

Alpha!Keigo calms down enough after a few hours. He lulls you to sleep and watches you dream away so peacefully before he pulls out his phone and makes a call.

Alpha!Keigo doesn't hesitate to let you build a nest in his office. None of his coworkers nor workers are allowed in his office after you do. Of course, they can come close to the door and knock, but they are forbidden from entering. Even when Keigo/you isn't there, they still are not allowed in his office. Your nest is too precious to even be seen by anyone else. Keigo teared up when you said you wanted to build a nest in his office and his room at his house. You trusted him enough to do that. He could only hold you close, wrapped up in his beautiful red wings, as he praises you and thanks you.

Alpha!Keigo, who hates it when you switch your shampoo. You always claim that you never cared for what shampoo you grabbed, as long as it wasn't conditioner, but he hated that you switched it up every time. Your scent just changed too much, and nothing ever smelt special for you, specifically. Finally, the night you both first made passionate love to one another for the first time. Keigos' back was lined with burning passion. His shoulders were tense, sweat dripping from his forhead, his wings jerking and relaxing every few seconds, not to mention you. Your body laid out beneath him, sweat lining your beautiful skin, hair sticking to the bed and your own face, hickies and dark bite marks scattered along your upper chest and neck, it was all perfect. What made it even more perfect was the smell that Keigo couldn't get enough of. After he had emptied his balls into you, he just laid on your chest. But Keigo didn't expect to smell the sweetest, most drooling scent he had ever smelt, pouring from your scent glands. Nothing covering or blocking you from openly releasing this scent if yours.Round two immediately started after that.

Alpha!Keigo protects you and loves you with everything he is. Man, hero, son (hopefully a daddy bird soon), you took it all when you stole his heart. Keigo would gladly put down his life for his omega, and he would put down someone else's life for you, too. Though he would say that allowed, he knows you're more sensitive about gore and killing than he is. But he doesn't care. As long as you stick by his side no matter what, he knows he will stick by yours.

And don't get be started on Alpha!Keigo becoming a father after impregnating his little omega.

[kedreeva]

You're sort of one of the kindest people i know on tumblr, so. um. i had a question.

how do i deal with it all?

right of the bat i will tell you i am a minor and my parents are zionists, so i have no income of my own or anything i could donate. everytime i post a single fundraiser that reaches my inbox and is vetted, i get 4-5 new fundraising asks for palestine.

most of them are unvetted, but i keep thinking that if i can't donate i should at least have faith in people and reblog the fundraisers even if they're unvetted, possibly that they're actually new and need as much help we can give, however, there's a possibility they are scams, and i don't want to draw away the attention vetted fundraisers might get.

how do you decide where to help out and how to live with your decision?

I have a policy that when it comes to asks (or messages) that solicit money or other actions (like boosting posts) I don't respond to or even publish asks that come from anyone that has never spoken to me before that moment, and that's a policy that has been in place for many years now, and is unlikely to change largely because the majority of asks/messages that are requesting money or to visit a blog post/their blog/their website are scams (or more often several years ago, led to virus infections on your computer!). My blog is, as it has stated at the top for over ten years now, a personal blog, not a fundraising/signal boosting/vetting blog for spreading donations- there ARE blogs like that, and people can choose to interact with those blogs or not, but my blog isn't the place for it and that's a hard boundary I enforce for my own well being. Tumblr is my place to rest and recover, however I see fit to do that.

A random ask to my inbox asking for money, regardless of what it is for, is (in my view) equivalent to a cold call from a stranger soliciting money. It's not about faith in people, it's not about right or wrong, it's not about can or can't. This is my home, and I don't answer the phone to unknown numbers. I will help friends/family/people I know personally (or parasocially, if I like them or recognize them), obviously, but that's a bit of a different horse.

As for how I decide where to help out, if I have the ability (funds, spoons, time etc), I will seek out information on the best place to donate that can do the most with the money to help the person/people/cause that I want to help. It's the Food Pantry Equation: I could spend $5 on groceries at retail price to donate, and maybe get enough for 1 meal for 1 person (though in this fuckoff capitalist hellscape, I'm not sure $5 would even buy a whole meal), or I could give $5 directly to a Food Pantry organization, who buys in bulk and knows where to get stuff cheap, so that my $5 can help five people or ten people or whatever. I also do my best to participate in fandom events that raise money for good causes; stuff like the fanworks charity auction I helped run to donate to a wolf sanctuary, or stuff like Fandom Trumps Hate (another charity fanworks auction event). Those kind of events are generally open about where the donations go to, and have done research into organizations to ensure the gathered money goes to good charities.

Like with the above, however, it's different if I know the person. If my neighbor comes and asks for a cup of sugar or my friend needs help moving or whatever, I'm gonna give them what they need without the middleman because we have that relationship already established. Donating $5 to a food pantry would probably help more people by numbers, but helping my neighbors and friends and family etc builds community in a way giving $5 to a random stranger on the phone soliciting money cannot, and even in a way donating $5 (or $5 worth of food) to a Food Pantry cannot. It's also usually a matter of one and done, as well as semi-transactional the way any relationship is a give and take; I can give my neighbor some sugar, and down the road they can return the favor the next time I'm in need of help. I help my friends move and I know whether or not I ever move, myself, that they would do the same for me if they're able. You can't say this about a random ask on the Internet and you likely won't ever be able to say it for most charities unless you somehow end up in their exact area of expertise. So it's different.

I feel like you should also learn about Tim Wong, the guy who basically single-handedly repopulated the Pipevine Swallowtail butterfly out in California. The lesson his story can and should teach is that... sometimes it can do more good for the world to care Very Much about one specific thing, and put your heart and soul into it, than it does to spread a little bit of care over a lot of things.

So, I guess what I mean to say here is... don't feel guilty about what you cannot do. There's no guilt in that. When you are ready and able to help, you can always go and look for a good way to do so (and what you end up helping may not always be the thing you think it will be), but you don't need to feel pressured by telemarketers or charity donation calls from strangers while you're trying to eat dinner. Especially if they don't even know who you are, either.

[heeseungiez]

building keyboards! l.hs

pairing! lee heeseung x fem!reader

synopsis! in which you want to celebrate your one year anniversary with your boyfriend

genre! established relationship, fluff

word count! 1.2k

author’s note! i have been cursed by a keyboard obsession since before i even got into enhypen, so ofc i had to write something short and cute with heeseung

currently playing . . . highway 1009 by enhypen !

You met Heeseung entirely by chance. The two of you moved in completely different social circles, yet you somehow managed to find each other when it mattered the most. He was the popular guy on campus, whereas you were just a girl. A student trying to survive university life, juggling studying and a part-time job to keep yourself afloat.

The first time you met Heeseung was in the summer. After you managed to get through freshman year without failing a single class, you enjoyed your time off in a tech store, looking over different kinds of mechanical keyboards and computer components. You must’ve looked like an employee because Heeseung chose to approach you specifically to ask you a question about the new Keychron keyboards. And whilst you were not working at the store, you did know enough about the best, pretty affordable keyboards on the market. Including the new Keychrons. So you indulged him rather than telling him that you were not, in fact, working there.

Unbeknownst to you (he shared that later into your relationship), Heeseung continued going to the tech store during the summer in hopes of encountering you again, which was how he came to the conclusions that 1) you were truly not working there, and 2) he should’ve asked for your number.

It was only his luck that in the following winter semester, he happened to be a TA of one of the computer language classes you signed up for in your second year. He did not miss his chance to get to know you then, and the first time he asked you out was after the winter semester, when he was no longer the TA in your class.

It’s been a year since the two of you officially became boyfriend and girlfriend, and you got the most brilliant idea for how to celebrate your one year anniversary. It cost quite a good deal of money, but you knew it would be worth it in the end.

When you knocked on the door of Heeseung’s dorm room with two large plastic bags in hand, you knew he wasn’t home. However, at least one of his dorm mates should be, which was proven to you when Jay opened the door.

He looked at you with furrowed brows, and before he could tell you that Heeseung wasn’t there, you stopped him with: “I know, he’s not here. That’s the point.”

You didn’t even wait for the man to invite you inside. Rather, you made your way past him, taking your shoes off and heading toward the living room area to place everything on the dining table they had.

“What exactly are you doing, Y/N?” Jay asked, standing in the hallway like a father of three children with his hands on his hips.

“Preparing a surprise for Hee,” you replied simply, unpacking your boxes with mechanical switches, keycaps, keyboard cases, brushes, lube (for the switches), foam, tape, switch and keycap pullers and many other items necessary for building and modding your own keyboard. Since Keychrons were Heeseung’s favourite, you mainly went for components of that brand, but you were personally a fan of Akko keyboards, so you sneaked in a few switches from them for more options, too.

“Are you planning to build keyboards with him?”

You hummed with a nod of agreement, grinning.

“What do you think?” You turn to Jay once you have everything set up on the table.

“That Heeseung’s a lucky bastard,” Jay murmured under his breath, and you giggled.

“So it’s good, right?”

“Duh.” Jay shook his head, staring at everything you prepared. “Are you trying to one-up him? ‘Cause I don’t think he can come up with anything better than this.”

You shrugged, smiling. “I don’t really care. Seeing him smile is all I need.”

Jay rubbed his face. “Lucky bastard,” he repeated again. “I’ll make sure he knows that.”

“You’re too sweet,” you said, checking the time. Heeseung should be home from his class in about fifteen minutes. You knew only because he had texted you the approximate time when he would get home after you told him you had a surprise for him.

“So sweet that I’m gonna get lost and leave you two here alone.” He nodded, going to his room to grab some things. “Just text me whenever you guys are done, so I know I can come home.”

“Sure, sure, will do,” you mutter while eyeing your work. Not that spreading miscellaneous keyboard components was hard work, but you were already fighting the urge to start building a keyboard without Heeseung here.

After Jay left, you were alone in the dorm room for about three seconds. Heeseung burst into the dorm room with his backpack hanging over one shoulder, eyes already searching for you since he probably ran into Jay on his way here.  

You smiled, watching him drop everything on the floor just to approach you.

“Surprise!” you exclaimed, pointing at the messy table.

Heeseung blinked at you, glancing between the keyboards and you in confusion. “What—”

“I have everything! And for modding, I have lube and foam and tape! Isn’t it awesome?” you asked, picking up each item you named.

Heeseung laughed at how innocently you said that despite its many possible meanings. Running a hand through his hair, he felt a swelling in his heart at the sight of your excited form over building keyboards. It was an interest you both shared, and he was eternally grateful for finding you over it every day. 

“You know—” he grinned, picking up the lube— “when you said you had a surprise for me, I didn’t think the only thing I’d be lubing today would be keyboard switches.”

You giggled, shrugging. “But you like it anyway, right?”

“I love it,” Heeseung said, grinning. “I love you,” he added, sitting down next to you at the table. “That’s what matters the most, right?”

Leaning toward you, he cupped your chin and connected your foreheads. You couldn’t stop smiling as your heart drummed in your ears, your whole body seeping with love for the man in front of you.

“I love you, too,” you replied, connecting your lips in a brief kiss. “But can we start with building our keyboards? I want to make mine sound creamy… or should I go for thocky? I can’t decide.”

Heeseung chuckled, shaking his head. “I hope you know I don’t have much space in my room anymore.”

“That’s a lie and we both know it.” You looked at him, narrowing your eyes. “Unless being able to play Twister in your room is a requirement.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes. “For the two of us? Might as well be.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you, and you lightly slapped his shoulders, your cheeks heating up.

“Shut up,” you mumbled. 

Heeseung giggled, capturing your lips in another, longer and much sweeter kiss. 

“Thank you for all of this, though,” he said after, pointing at the setup. “My surprise suddenly seems lame.”

“What is it?” You pouted, curiosity taking over you.

“I’d rather not say right now.” Heeseung shook his head. “Maybe you’ll find out later.”

“That’s so mean.”

tag list! @moonpri (send an ask to be added to the permanent tag list!!)

[angelgoeslewd]

White Lies. [Prologue.]

🔮 summary: becoming Fyodor’s house-spouse is a trial.

⚠️ warnings: unhealthy relarionship dynamics. this excerpt is SFT, there will be more in this series that will not be. please read accordingly with attention to the warnings.

📝 a/n: this got away from me … these were supposed to be headcanons 😰 yes i have more planned. this is only the beginning.

The relationship between you and Fyodor began as a mutually beneficial agreement. Fitting, for one as conniving as him and as cornered as you, but odd, considering his... allure.

It was easy to consider him "out of your league." His status outweighed yours by a fair amount and this didn't even weigh in his looks or platinum tongue, his bank account alone probably tipped the scales in your favor. But your... situation was rare, one that worked in his own interests.

As the eldest of a well-to-do family, you knew, knew from an early age you would be expected to marry. Expected to give up any life and passions you had to seek the hand of someone who elevated your family's status. And as the days passed by, your days filled with schooling and artistic pursuits, the arraignment of your betrothal was a closer and closer possibility. Every leaf that fell on the cold stone pathway of your college campus seemed like just another reminder of the time that was slipping through your fingers.

That was why you saw him as an opportunity. When your friend offhandedly gushed that The Fyodor Dostoevsky was seeking, "a fair person of good standing and kind graces to accompany him in his quest for comfortability and tranquility," (which sounded like something straight out of a Jane Austen novel, for God's sake) at your coffee date and how exciting the possibility was, your desperation got the better of you. You tried not to hope, tried not to let your wretched attempt, your last-ditch effort of securing your own freedom seep into your voice as you asked her for more details, wondering if she heard it, wondering if she saw your hand shake as you lifted your cup to your mouth and she peered at you, questioningly. Thankfully, she asked nothing and simply divulged in full.

You found yourself at the meeting hall in question 5 minutes late, on the date of the supposed event. Her information was true, as you quickly found out, entering the hall to be met with a crowd of every type of people from every corner of your school. All ages were there, young, older, older, to meet Mr. Dostoyevsky. People who had colored hair, people who were draped in jewels, people who had neither of either and looked like simple office workers. They gave you a number when you checked in at the booth, a simple white ticket with nothing but black ink printed on it in a large font. You tucked it into your bag and finding nowhere to sit, you subtly made your way outside to wait.

Sitting on a small brick wall, separating you from a small flower bed, you were near enough to hear any instruction, but far enough from the crowd to not be bothered. You took out your latest novel, began to read, and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

It only took about half an hour for you to notice people streaming out of the building; some with red faces, others in open tears. Concerned, you shifted on your seat, wondering if this was really worth it. But you made no move to comfort the people, nor did you move to leave. You knew, subconsciously, you had no other choice.

Eventually, your number was called, and you grabbed your things hastily, walking into the building and suddenly hitting the nicely warmed air. You didn't even realize how cold it was outside, your mind was lost in the book you held. Your fingers were thankful, still red from the cold, but it felt almost uneasy inside, with only a couple people left and nothing but the company of the sound of your shoes hitting the floor as you made your way to the man who beckoned you. The people left -- a woman with beautifully coiffed hair, lined with jewels and fur; a man in a dark blue, wrinkle-free suit and slicked-back hair; a person with shortly cut hair and a long, cotton skirt, colored with natural dyes, all smiled at your sympathetically.

The pit in your stomach dropped further. But you continued without skipping a beat of your thumping heart.

The room you entered was barren. There was nothing but a dimly lit table, even the lights were turned down, somehow, something that didn't seem possible at your meager campus. The table legs were dark wood, cut off halfway by a simple, white, linen tablecloth. Nothing was on the table. But there he sat. The dark, imposing figure of Fyodor Dostoyevsky.

He eyed you quietly as you sat down in the chair across from him and thanked the man leading you to what felt like your social downfall. The simple act felt much sinister than it was. You leaned down to place your bag next to the side of your chair, then sat up straight and faced the man who held your future in his cards.

“It is nice to meet you, Лисичка.” Russian. You didn’t know Russian. His accent was thick and heavy, but his voice was soft and gentle, reminiscent of new footprints on soft, powdered snow.

“The honor is mine, Mr. Dostoyevsky.” You reached your hand out, across the table, to greet him, and a gloved hand appeared from below to grab yours. His other one then followed, covering your own, something much more intimate than needed in such a place, and something that would be scolded by your father. You introduced yourself, then pulled your hand back as quickly as social niceties would allow.

“Tell me, Лисичка, what brings a person as lovely as yourself here today?”

You took a deep breath. At that simple request, your mouth dried. Your honesty was preferable, but the rules in this scenario didn’t allow for such dark and bleak hardships to be shared to someone you had barely just met. That wasn’t proper. Nor would you expect him to care. You wouldn’t want him to either. This was your burden to carry, not his. You didn’t want his pity or his sympathy for your plight. It left a bad taste in your mouth to even think such thoughts. It might bring a bad look to your family if you shared such feelings openly, which, neither you nor they, needed to deal with at this time. But you also had a feeling that he would know if you lied to him, and besides, that wasn’t a look you wanted for yourself, either. With being dealt such a bad hand, you decided to take a bigger risk than you ever had in your life.

“Mr. Dostoyevsky.”

“Please, Родна́я, call me Fyodor. We are equals at this table.”

You didn’t mean it to, but a small laugh escaped your lips. His lips flickered down for a small, almost indeterminable moment, and his eyebrows raised at your presumptuousness. “With all due respect. We will never be equals. Even if I sit at this table permanently. Even if you choose me. There will never be a time you and I will be equals. And I accept that.”

He tilted his head in what seemed like approval, leaning back in his chair, crossing his legs, and gesturing lithely for you to continue. You, on the other hand, leaned forward, placing your hands on the cold linen, careful not to shift the cloth, but enough to make this obvious that the next piece of conversation was for you and him only. “Mr. Dostoyevsky. You can fool all those people out there if you want, but you can’t fool me. You need something — not someone, something. To gain, to escape — I honestly could not care what it is.” His face did not shift, staying the same as when you started. “I need something too. Right now, what I need, if you even care, the protection of your attention. Nothing else. Not your money, not your feelings, just the fact that you are with me. I don’t want to know what you gain from this, but I do know that you need me too. This situation would benefit both of us.”

He was quiet for a while after your spiel, letting the weight of your words sink and settle into the corners of the room as he gazed at you. You swear you saw his jaw set as he sat there, and you tried your best not to lick your lips nervously. Then his hand, which had been clasped in his lap, inched onto the table. A small bell which had escaped your notice was rung. The man from before slinked into the room. You felt ill. Did you read the situation wrong? Was it just like the bell, some innocuous thing that slipped your attention?

“Anton.” He called firmly. It was an order. If it wasn’t so cold, you would be sweating. “Tell the others to leave. I have found my company.”

The relief you felt was almost orgasmic. A breath you didn’t know you were holding was released, and your lungs sang. As the man left, Fyodor leaned forward to meet you. “I normally don’t appreciate such direct accusations,” he said, softly. “But I can appreciate a keen eye and a person who knows how to dance between truth and dishonesty. That is what I am seeking.”

He, himself, seemed to be teetering on the brink of honesty with you. But you felt like you had already pushed your luck for the day and said nothing. He could tell you felt something, but waved it off. “Think no more on it. I will only require you to do that with warning.” It was phrased like a joke, but again, that feeling of somehow being lied to and being told the honest truth sat with you. You tried to push it off and do as you were told. “The movers will fetch your things. You must be reinvented if you are to be seen with me.”

With that, Fyodor Dostoyevsky got up and left you sitting there. Alone, in a dimly lit room, with nothing but yourself. A situation you would find yourself in time and time again before everything changed.

[late-to-the-party-81]

The best laid plans

AN: It’s so fluffy!!!! This is my first fill for this year’s ‘Into an alternate Juni-verse” and when I got Surgeon AU on my card I knew I had to revisit this pairing from last year's event…You don’t need to read it to understand this fic, but it will give you more context.

A big thanks to @metalbvcky for spitballing and cheerleading

Beta’d by the wonderful @drabbles-mc

Likes are loved, reblogs are golden

Mood board by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Bingo Fills - 

@stuckybingo G3: Migraines

@steverogersbingo D2: Monica Rambeau

Build a Bucky Bingo by @buckybarnesevents: Feb: Forehead kisses

Into an Alternate Juni-verse by @buckybarnesevents : AU: Surgeon

@caplanbuckybarnes Weekly Writing Challenge Week 1; “Holding you like this is where I’m happiest.”

Master list | Alternate Juni-verse Master list | Stucky Bingo Master List | SRB Master list | BaBB Master List

Summary: With Steve’s hectic work schedule, their relationship was never going to be plain-sailing, but they have an uninterrupted 48 hours coming up. Surely nothing will go wrong?

Relationship: Small Doctor Steve Rogers x Bookstore Owner Bucky Barnes

Word count: 3.8k

CW: Modern AU, Fluff, Insinuation of spicy time, Bucky and Nat friendship, Teasing, descriptions of migraine, caring Bucky, Hurt/Comfort, suggestive and happy ending, implied bottom Bucky.

Steve was well aware of how his life was currently a study in contrasts. On the one hand there was the hustle and bustle and bright lights of the hospital and on the other, the cosy warmth of the bookshop where Bucky worked and Steve spent a lot of his off hours. There was the inherent stress involved in working in the ER, with the requirement he always be ‘switched on’, but then there was the gentle pace that life with Bucky forced him into.

Bucky.

He couldn’t believe how much his life had changed since those two chance encounters nine months ago, one in a bar and the other right here in the ER.

Steve hadn’t been looking for anything, heart still raw from a break-up that had seen him upsticks and relocate from Los Angeles to New York, but something about Bucky had gotten under his guard. After their unexpected reunion in the hospital following a very memorable one-night stand, Steve had known there was no way he could go on without the young bookstore owner in his life.

They were taking it one step at a time though. Steve’s job was obviously full-on, especially so as he’d decided to continue working towards becoming a surgeon, something he’d done most of the work for out in California. Between his ER shifts, and the work for his qualification, both practical and theoretical, they sometimes went days without seeing each other and Steve didn’t want to force Bucky into something he wasn’t able to cope with - there was a reason why a large number of people in the medical field struggled to maintain relationships.

Therefore he maintained his apartment, and Bucky still had his own over his shop. Admittedly that warm, lived-in space, as small and covered in white cat fur as it was, felt more like home to Steve than his larger, pristine loft that still looked like something out of a brochure. Also, Bucky’s place was a lot closer to the hospital than his. It made sense, really, to spend most of his time there. He kept thinking about ‘taking the next step’, but something was stopping him.

Steve let out a sigh. He hadn’t seen Bucky in a full 48 hours now, and there was still another six to go until he could leave.

Today was an observation day, where Steve would be watching his mentor while she performed a heart by-pass and she would ask him questions as she did so. He was excited for it, but even that couldn’t dull the ache within him which he knew would only be soothed by a Bucky-hug ™.

He watched Doctor Rambeau - Monica - scrub up, dexterously turning off the tap with her elbow, and then waited for her to move out of the space so he could do the same. He might not be performing the operation, but he still had to follow all the protocols. He knew what an honour this was, having her as his mentor. She was one of the best in her field, and under her tutelage he knew he would be able to make a difference to so many people. With his own history of health issues, he knew what it was like to have his life saved and was ready to pay it forwards. 

“You ready, Doctor Rogers?” He turned to see one perfectly shaped eyebrow rise at him from behind an eye-shield.

“Absolutely. Lead on, Doctor Rambeau.” He knew his smile was hidden behind his mask, but hopefully she would hear it in his voice and see it in the crinkles around his eyes. He suspected not much got past her. The junior doctors were always making remarks about how Doctor Rambeau could see things that other mere mortals couldn’t.

“Soooo,” Nat drawled out and Bucky got ready for another round of being teased. “You’re seeing him tonight?”

“Yes,” replied Bucky. “He’s coming over after his observation shift and then he’s off for the next two days. Don’t expect to see much of me outside of work hours.” He waggled his eyebrows at his best friend and grinned as she rolled her eyes in return.

“Don’t I know it. If it wasn’t for his shifts I doubt I’d see you at all.” Despite her words, Bucky could hear the joking affection in her voice. However, what was the point in being best friends if you didn’t wind each other up at every available opportunity?

“You’re one to talk? How are you and Doctor Wilson going? I know he knows his way around….” Bucky’s dig at Sam’s field of specialisation was cut off by Nat placing her finger over his lips.

“Shush, you. We’re going just fine. Keeping it casual. He’s busy. I’m busy. Who wants to put labels on things?”

Bucky’s lips twitched. “Whatever you say, Natty-Nat-Nat. I believe you, thousands wouldn’t.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and then grabbed another armful of books to reshelve. “So apart from fucking, what have you got planned?”

Bucky shrugged. “Not a lot. Depends on how wiped out he is. Dinner tonight - I’m making lasagne - and a film. Probably far too much wine. Tomorrow? Maybe the Brooklyn Museum, and lunch. I know he wants me to test him on some theory, so I need to limber up my tongue so I can say complicated words I don’t understand.”

“Please don’t tell me how you’re going to limber it up,” Nat said with a snort, and Bucky squashed down the urge to throw a book at her. He knew from his own painful experience what it felt like to have a hardback, or several, bounce off his face. The only upside of that situation had been that he’d seen Steve again and gotten his number, even if it had been mortifying at the time.

“Things are still going well, then?” Nat questioned more softly.

“Absolutely.” Bucky let out a sigh as he thought about his diminutive blond boyfriend. Even before their eyes had met across the bar he’d been intrigued. There had been something in Steve’s movements, the way his fingers had held - near caressed - his beer bottle, that had filled Bucky with want.

That feeling hadn’t waned over the past months, and while he inevitably got frustrated when Steve’s shifts kept them apart, he also had an inkling that the periods of separation were also what had kept them in the ‘honeymoon’ phase so long. It heightened the anticipation, and when they did get to spend time together? Well it was a good thing that Bucky had no neighbours and Steve’s apartment had thick walls.

Bucky had always had voracious… appetites… but had been more than pleasantly surprised when Steve proved that he could, most of the time at least, keep up with him. He also hadn’t thought that such an outwardly respectable doctor could be so kinky, but….

“Earth to Barnes!” Nat snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Stop thinking about Steve’s dick on work time.” 

He pouted at her. “Spoilsport. And anyway, it wasn’t his dick I was thinking about, it was his fing–”

Nat threw her hands up over her ears. “LA-LA-LA,” she shouted before walking back towards the front desk and the customers who had just walked through the door. Bucky giggled and continued to restack books while indulging in his daydreams.

Steve slowly pushed the surgical gown down his arms with a sigh and winced at the bright lights in the scrub room. He hadn’t even been doing any of the heavy lifting during that op, but he still felt absolutely wrung out. However, it had been the most wonderful experience, getting to see Monica performing the by-pass so assuredly and asking her questions as she did so. He was also proud of the fact that he’d been able to answer her questions too, although those had been more inquisitorial than plain curious like his. But it was the end of his shift now - more or less on time too, for a change - and he couldn’t wait to get to Bucky’s apartment and relax in the arms of his boyfriend for two whole days.

He washed up and said good-bye to Monica and the rest of the surgical team and headed towards the staff room and the locker containing his street clothes, keys, and wallet - he hadn’t spent this much time in scrubs since medical school. As he made his way along the white walled corridors, the sounds of a hospital at work swirled around him - the beeping of machines, pained cries of the young and old, the urgent, hushed conversations of other medical professionals, the weeping of family members and loved ones. He liked to think that he was partially immune to these noises - they were the soundtrack to his daily life after all, but for some reason, they felt rawer than usual, scraping across his bones like nails down a chalkboard, and Steve couldn’t hold back an involuntary shudder. The fluorescent lights in the ceiling appeared to be taunting him too, their beams piercing his eyeballs and the almost inaudible humming making his teeth itch.

“Bucky,” he muttered to himself. “I just need to get home to Bucky, then I’ll feel better.”

When Steve finally made his way outside the sky was dark, but the streets were lit up with street lamps and car headlights. Each shaft of light felt like a needle sliding into his brain via his temples and he took a deep breath in through his nose to stave off a wave of dizziness. 

There was a light drizzle in the air, making it blessedly cool, and despite the damp Steve decided to walk to Bucky’s apartment instead of schlepping it on the much dryer, but ultimately more cramped and warm, subway. It took him longer than anticipated though, his shoes feeling like lead weights upon his feet, getting heavier and heavier with every step.

Finally, he reached the bookstore, the interior shrouded in darkness, but with lights shining from the windows above. Steve walked, half staggered, down the alley at the side and let himself in through the door that would lead him up the stairs and to Bucky. He was glad that Bucky had given him a key a few months back, otherwise he would have had to wait in the rain while Bucky came downstairs to let him in. That had happened enough times at the beginning that Steve was now very much over that part of their relationship. Having keys felt good. What didn’t feel good though were his sodden socks, or his throbbing eyeballs.

He trudged up the stairs, each step harder than the last, until he reached the top and all but fell through the interior door. Bucky must have heard him because Steve’s name was called out joyfully, a sound that normally made his heart leap in his chest, but in this moment, all he could do was let out a pained whimper as Bucky’s voice cut through his brain like a chainsaw.

He heard Bucky’s footsteps get closer and he squinted against the brightness of the room.

“Hey, Stevie!”

Bucky pulled him into a rough hug, squishing Steve’s face against the ubiquitous black t-shirt he always seemed to wear on days he was working. The smell of Bucky’s cologne, normally one of his favourite scents, assailed his nose, combining with the smell of garlic that permeated the apartment and Steve felt his stomach roll.

“Buck… please,” he slurred as he uncharacteristically pushed himself away from his boyfriend’s embrace. Everything around him just felt like too much and he felt himself tip backwards against the wall.

“Oh, Steve. You don’t look too hot.” Bucky’s voice was full of concern, and Steve was sure that if he could manage to focus properly, he’d be able to see Bucky’s dark brows pulled together in a frown. 

“Jeez, thanks,” he managed to push out with a small upturn to his lips. “Just what I wanted to hear after not seeing you for two days.” He closed his eyes, intending to do so for just a moment, and felt the ringing pain in his head lessen minutely.

Bucky’s body brushed against him as his holdall was taken from him by gentle hands and his coat was slipped from his shoulders.

“Is it a migraine?” Bucky had modulated his voice to a whisper and Steve decided that he hadn’t ever been so glad for anything in his life.

Eyes still closed, he nodded and let out a noise of confirmation from his lips. “Mmm-hmm.”

“Okay. Let’s get you to bed then. I’m prescribing Advil, earplugs, an eye-mask and an early night.”

Steve snorted and instantly regretted it. “I thought I was the doctor here?” he quipped, his voice low and gravelly.

“You are,” Bucky replied, his lips brushing Steve’s temple. “But I’m the boyfriend, so what I say, goes.”

“Is that so?” Steve queried, a note of amusement in his voice.

“Very much so,” Bucky confirmed. “Now you keep your eyes closed if you want, I’ll guide you.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but still kept his lids closed. He had a feeling it was the only reason he wasn’t throwing up right now.

“Such a mother hen,” he chastised without any real bite and allowed Bucky to steer him, arms looped together, through the small apartment. A soft bump against his ankle let him know that Alpine was now part of the proceedings.

“It’s why you love me. Right, you just sit down here…” Steve felt his shoulders clasped by Bucky’s hands and he sat down, completely trusting that he wouldn’t fall on his ass. “Can you manage to get undressed while I go find the pills?”

Steve cracked one eye open. “Sure. I love you, you know that?” Bucky shot him a soft smile, pressed another kiss to his forehead and then went through to the small bathroom, rattling around inside the cupboards.

Steve kicked off his shoes, glad he had on loafers that came off easily, and struggled out of his shirt. It felt like an octopus trying to envelope and suffocate him. He flopped down onto the mattress and squeezed his eyes shut again, feeling the bile begin to rise in his throat. Not only did this suck, big time, but he also felt so guilty, a feeling he vocalised when he felt the bed dip on Bucky’s return.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I know that this wasn’t what we had planned. What were you making for dinner?” He felt Bucky’s hands on the waistband of his slacks, deftly pulling them from his body in the most un-lust-filled, and therefore strangest, way possible.

“Lasagne, but it will keep until tomorrow. And you don’t need to apologise. These things happen and you have been working really hard. I’m actually surprised you didn’t have one of these sooner.”

Steve shuffled under the coverlet, letting out a sigh at the coolness of the sheets against his skin. Bucky pressed two tablets into his hand, and he propped himself upon his other elbow so he could pop them in his mouth, swallowing them down with a drink from the glass of water Bucky proffered him.

“I’ll make it up to you, Buck. I promise.”

“I know you will, you lug. But for now here’s the eye mask.” Soft satin was placed over his head, settling over his eyes and helping to black out the last of the light making it through his eyelids. “And here are the ear plugs.” Bucky dropped them into Steve’s palm and curled his fingers shut over them. “Now don’t worry about me,” he placated. “I have a whole garlic bread and a salad to make my way through, plus a date at Stars Hollow with Lorelai. I’ll be fine. We’ll pick this up tomorrow if you’re feeling better, and if you’re not I’ll just pump you full of drugs until you are.”

Steve smiled into the darkness. “You know that’s not how that works?”

Bucky placed his finger over Steve’s lips. “Ssh, sexy Doctor Boyfriend has spoken. Sleep now.” He moved his finger and replaced it with his lips, kissing Steve softly.

“Sir, yes Sir,” Steve replied, bringing his hand up in salute.

“Punk. Sleep well. I’ll come cuddle you later.”

“I will, jerk. And thank you.”

He heard Bucky mumble under his breath and then pad across the room before he pushed the earplugs into his ears, cocooning himself in silence to go along with the darkness, and snuggled down into the sheets to pass out.

Bucky closed the bedroom door with a soft ‘click’ and padded back through to the living room, trying to quell the disappointment. It wasn’t Steve’s fault. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. Migraines happened, and he hadn’t been lying when he’d said it was a surprise that Steve hadn’t had one already - he really had been pushing himself to the limit. But, Bucky supposed, that was one of the things that made him love Steve. His tenaciousness, bordering on stubbornness, was endearing, and was probably one of the main reasons they were still together. He wasn’t going to lie - those early days had been tough, but Steve had found every spare moment he could and made it available to Bucky, whether that was hanging out at the bookshop during the day in the middle of a split shift, or rolling into the apartment just to curl up beside him in bed for the eight hours between the end of a late shift and the start of an early one. There were the surprise DoorDash deliveries when a shift had run over and dinner plans had had to be cancelled and Steve knew Bucky wouldn’t have anything in. There were the long nights of loving and the frantic, heated quickies and everything in between. And he couldn’t be prouder of what Steve was achieving right now. Once he’d passed his surgeon’s qualification things should get better for them - less double shifts, although probably more that would run over. Swings and roundabouts he supposed.

Crossing to the small kitchenette, Bucky pulled out the lasagne, watching the cheese and white sauce bubble on the top as he placed it on a trivet to cool. He was glad he’d cooked something that wouldn’t spoil from not being eaten right now. He then picked up the bowl of salad, and the garlic bread that had been keeping warm in the toaster oven, and meandered over to the couch. As he ate and watched the residents of Star Hollow navigate complex family relationships, Bucky realised that even though he was in this room and Steve was asleep in the bedroom, he didn’t feel alone. He could feel Steve’s presence in his home and it just felt so right.

A couple of hours later he snuck quietly into the bedroom, the only sound the soft snores emanating from Steve’s mouth. He brushed his teeth in the bathroom, careful to only turn the light on after he’d entered and turn it off before he exited, and then tip-toed over to the bed with only the light from the street outside to illuminate his way.  He slipped in behind Steve and gently tugged him into a hug. Steve mumbled in his sleep, but didn’t wake.

Bucky reached up to lightly stroke over the top of Steve’s head and pressed a kiss to his bony shoulder blade.

“I love you, Stevie,” he whispered. “Holding you like this is where I’m happiest.”

Maybe tomorrow would be the day he took a leap of faith and asked Steve to move in with him?

When Steve woke he felt entirely disorientated. It took him a moment to remember what had happened the night before, and when he pulled out the earplugs and lifted the eye-mask he was happy to note that the stabbing pain in his head had reduced to a dull throb. He blinked a few times to get the sleep from his eyes and then focused on the clock next to the bed. 

12:37pm

He’d been asleep for almost eighteen hours!

The bed beside him was cold, indicating that even his slug-abed boyfriend had gotten bored with sleeping at some point and decided to get up. He had vague recollections of being pulled against Bucky’s front in the night, but that was it. He frowned to himself - he’d gone far too long without consciously touching him, something that he needed to rectify immediately.

He pushed himself upright, and took a long drink from the water glass next to the clock. He still remembered the first time he’d woken up in this bed, in the middle of the night and getting ready to make a hasty exit after an alcohol fueled hook-up. Now he didn’t think there was anywhere he’d rather be than right here. 

From the end of the bed, Alpine lifted her head and narrowly opened her eyes, obviously not happy to be disturbed from her slumber. Steve reached out and scratched her under her chin in apology.

When he stood, it was on slightly wobbly legs, and he took a moment to grab a pair of sweats from Bucky’s drawer, taking care to pull the drawstring tight and roll the waistband over. Steve then walked quietly through to the living room, stopping to lean on the back of the sofa as he watched an oblivious Bucky, also only in sweats, singing along to the radio, a spatula in hand acting like a microphone, as he made a grilled cheese sandwich. It was the cutest thing Steve thought he’d ever seen and it just made him want Bucky more.

Steve padded closer, and when he reached out to touch Bucky’s shoulder, Bucky jumped with a shriek.

“Jeez, Steve. You scared me.”

Steve grinned at him and looped his arms around Bucky’s waist, drawing him closer and nuzzling at his neck.

“I’m sorry, baby. Maybe I can make it up to you?”

Bucky let out an amused chuckle. “So you owe me twice, that’s what I’m hearing. You feeling better then?”

Steve fastened his mouth to Bucky’s throat and gave it a suck, creating a dark pink patch on Bucky’s already flushed skin. “Absolutely. Although I can think of something else that will make me feel even better.”

“I bet you can,” replied Bucky with another giggle. “Do I have enough time to eat my grilled cheese, or…” he trailed off as Steve pushed his hand under Bucky’s waistband. “Oh! L-let me just turn this off…” Steve smiled into Bucky’s skin as he leant across to turn the stove dial and move his pan onto a cold ring. “Okay - you were saying?”

God, how Steve loved this man. The hand he had down Bucky’s sweats and shorts moved - encompassed -  and Steve watched as Bucky’s eyelids fluttered, his dark lashes fanning his cheeks, and how his mouth dropped open into an “O” shape. First he was going to do what he hadn’t been able to last night and then he was definitely going to ask Bucky if they could move in together.

Tag list: @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @doasyoudesireandlive, @galactusdevourerofworlds, @crayongirl-linz, @km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky, @kmc1989

[sarcasticmothwrites]

20 question for writers tag game

tagged by @alexandia03

1. Total number of ao3 works?

54

2. Total ao3 word count

233,997.

3. Fandoms I've written in

On the AO3: Empyrean, Repo! the Genetic Opera, Xiaolin Showdown, and a bunch of one-offs for Yuletide or other collection/prompt fics.

Pre-AO3, I've written FFVII, FFVIII, Hellsing (how I met my spouse), GI Joe, Babylon 5. Buffy/Angel. X-Men, X-Files. Probably others I'm not thinking about, I've been writing fanfic since before I knew that other people did it and by that I'm talking 1988.

4. Top 5 fics by kudos

Scott Pilgrim vs. the Unspoken History - Based on the 2010 film, Scott Pilgrim/Wallace Wells. Written for @copperfirebird

At Lunchtime, in the Wilderness - Calvin & Hobbes + Where the Wild Things Are, Gen. Also written for @copperfirebird.

Time and Time Again and Again and Again and Again - Xiaolin Showdown, Chase Young/Jack Spicer. Written *with* @copperfirebird, just for variety.

A Kiss is a Terrible Thing to Waste - Repo! the Genetic Opera, Graverobber/Nathan Wallace. Written for a request meme.

Sketchbook - The Empyrean, Violet & Brennan, Naolin/Brennan. The most recent of my top five by a LOT, this was my first posted Empyrean fic.

5. Do I respond to comments?

Not unless they ask a question or something similar. I'm not good at writing comments.

6. What has the angstiest ending?

I'm not sure if this is "of the top five" or "of the 54 pieces I've posted on the AO3," but I'm going to go with the latter because the former has angst but not really in the ending. So.

Angstiest ending is Dear Alex, a Yuletide fic I wrote for @copperfirebird. A Wrinkle in Time is one of his very favorite books, and this is Kate and Alex Murray figuring out how to be a married couple again. It made me cry, writing it.

7. What has the happiest ending?

It might be New Year's Welcome, which is FFVIII Seifer/Squall/Rinoa and is about finding a home and a place when you thought you'd lost everything.

8. Have I received hate?

Nope. Possibly because I've mostly stayed in very small fandoms.

9. Do I write smut? And what kind?

Yes, I do. If I had to describe it, I would call it lyrical smut, where it's about the flow of the words and the feeling more than the specifics.

10. Do I write crossovers?

One of my top 5s is a crossover, in fact, but it's not something I do very often.

11. Have I ever had a fic stolen?

Yeah, back in the ff.net days, and it was a very weird feeling.

12. Have I ever had a fic translated?

No.

13. Have I ever co-written a fic?

Many. @copperfirebird and I are partners in life and fiction.

14. What is my all-time fave ship?

I can tell you who my favorite child is (I only have one) but I could not possibly pick my favorite ship. I would have a hard time picking a favorite ship in any given fandom.

I love relationships between people whose feelings are bigger than their abilities to communicate it, but who find understanding in the silences; people who are drawn together despite all the reasons that they should not be; and people who are deeply loyal to one another.

15. A WIP I'll never finish

The Future Waits Without Us was supposed to be a large multi-part story that I wrote two pieces of.

Probably Came Too Far To Die because I have one mostly-written chapter I haven't published yet and then I have no idea what I'm doing. I have never known what I was doing with this fic, but I didn't let it stop me.

16. Writing strengths?

Lyrical prose. Three-part clauses. Emotionally complex characters. Witty banter.

17. Writing weaknesses?

Plot. Too bad that's, like, an extremely important part of story building.

18. Do I like foreign language dialogue?

This is a weird question. I don't have any problems with other people writing in multiple languages. There are bilingual characters who should use multiple languages. I'm more prone to things like, "This sentence is written in the common tongue," he said in Tyrrish.

19. First fandom I wrote for?

Dragonriders of Pern when I was in 7th grade.

20. Favourite fic I've written?

It's hard to pick one, but there are two fics that I'm always breathlessly startled I was able to write. Both of them were Yuletide requests, and I know Yuletide's coming around again when I start getting kudos for these.

The first one is In Two Bodies, Alexander and Hephaestian, inspired by Mary Renault's Alexander Trilogy. If you were wondering what I meant by "lyrical smut," this one's an excellent example.

The second one is Finding Zihuatanejo, inspired by the beautiful Stephen King short story "Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption." It really feels like I got the narrator's voice down perfectly.

tagging: Anybody who hasn't done it yet

[cute-bag-of-bones]

Can't Trust A Supe

Part 2: Ma Petite Poulette

Part 1

Warnings: violence, implied death, swearing.

      The local library wasn't the ideal place to read a top secret file like this but it was the best I could do on short notice. At least it would be quiet.

       The papers inside were both typed and some were hand written. I could recognize my mom's curvy and heavy handed handwriting anywhere. The notes had to be written by her. I found my mom's resignation letter to vaught. She sighted wanting to start a family as the reason for the departure. There was also a copy of a legal document that was asking for my mother to return any stolen property she had taken with her. I read further and from what I can guess Vaught thought she stole some kind of serum. The document never specified the name.  

      There was also documentation of her and Homelander's relationship. The fact Vaught kept track of something like that really cemented to me how creepy Vaught is. They even noted how erratic Homelander became when she ended the relationship. 

     My chest tightened up as I read lower. It mentioned the incident at my family's compound. In this file they claim Homelander had gotten some intel that my father and his cult was planning a mass suicide. When Homelander came to stop them my father detonated the bombs killing everyone there instantly. 

      My hand balled into a fist as I looked up from the papers. Bank holidays and annual parades all spawned because of Vaught's lies. Children wear masks of my fathers face and throw candy bombs at each other. The last name Bishop became so unpopular that residents of New York City changed their names to avoid association. Even I had to take on an alias just to live my life in peace. All because a woman broke up with a man. I needed to calm down, I could see right through the librarian who was starting to notice the glowing blue light coming from my eyes. 

      I closed the file and looked at the number written on the front. Billy Butcher's Mary band of idiots, could they really kill Homelander? Could they do it without getting killed themselves? 

      I knew I would regret it but I had to be there when Homelander died. Even if I can just make him bleed. That will be enough, enough to show him his actions have consequences. No one is above revenge and at some point everyone's ticket will be punched, even his.

     Before I could think about how big of a mistake this was I called (uncle) Billy. He gave me an address to go to and hung up. I wasn't surprised when the address in question was another ran down building. I was surprised when he let me in and I saw a small woman curled up on the sofa and a large black man sitting at a table. Maybe he knew what he was doing. It had been less then a week and he had already conned two more suckered into helping him. 

     "You got more help?"

     "Oh yeah this is Mother's Milk and um oi Frenchie what are we calling her?" He said pointing to the wild looking girl. 

      "We are still working on that part. Hello ma petite poulette. Good to see you came around." Frenchie said with a wave. I'd have to Google what the hell he just called me. Hughie looked less sick this time which I guess was a good sign. 

      "Right, well I changed my mind. I want to help." I say walking in. The girl moved from the sofa and closer to frenchie. She looked at me like she was sizing me up. It made me uneasy but they seemed to trust her. 

      I got the rundown on the plan and all that had happened, it was half baked at best but it was better than nothing.

     "Wait, she crushed the guy's head? With her what?" I guess there are worse ways to go.

      "It was bad." M.M adds as he helps Frenchie put together some guns. 

      This group looked disorganized from the outside looking In but the more time I spent with them the more I realized they had some kind of system. A rhythm of some kind they all understood. It is taking me a few days to fall into it. I wasn't sure where I fit in yet. I know Billy is the ringleader. He sets it all up. Frenchie and M.M make it happen for him. Frenchie normally supplied the tools of the trade, M.M had the skills and cool head. The Female was easy enough to figure out. She is a Beast, a force of nature, in the best possible way. It was sickeningly beautiful how quickly she could tear through a guy. 

         Hughie was the last I figured out but he's the moral compass and he is pretty good for morale to because picking on him is fun. But he's the heart of this outfit without a doubt. 

         Today Billy had something for me to do. He needed a key card from this security guard at a desk of a medical research center or something. It needed to be clean. Frenchie and I were sent in. It was meant to be Hughie and I but he had a bad cheese dog and couldn't leave the bathroom so we improvised.

        It was 11 pm and pouring rain when I walked up to the glass door. I had to get close enough to him to ensure he would survive the encounter. I had been practicing with rats at the hideout and felt confident I could do this on a human. I just needed to close the distance before he got suspicious. I tapped on the glass and held my hands out in a prying motion. 

        "Please I need help!" I yell past the glass. I needed him to unlock the door. I knew I looked very unintimidating. At least to most men. A 5'5 blonde girl didn't scream danger to most people. He got up and sighed as he walked over to the door. 

        "I'm sorry ma'am the lab is closed." He shouted back through the glass.

        "No wait I'm sorry, I'm super lost downtown and my phone died. Can I use a phone? I need to call my mom." The whole time I was looking inside him. Scanning making sure I could do this clean. He hesitated for a moment before finally opening the door to me. 

       "Just be quick please." He said as he showed me to the phone at the front desk. He stood next to me and waited for me to make my call. So I did, I called Frenchie's burner to let him know I was in and that he should head this way. The phone rang and just as planned he didn't answer. I looked up at the man and began my real part of the plan. I start by lowering his blood pressure. He begins to sweat. It was a delicate balancing act between being quick enough he doesn't get suspicious and being careful enough not to kill him. He grabs the corner of the desk and I take the change to put the phone down and help him into his seat. 

       "Are you alright?" I ask as I continue my attack. He tries to grab the phone, likely thinking he was having some kind of stroke. I make his eyes close and apply the lightest amount of pressure to his carotid arteries trying to slow oxygen getting to the brain. Soon his own brain does the rest as he slips into sleep. I run and open the door for Frenchie who comes sprinting in. 

       "What did you do to him?" 

       "He's just sleeping. Go do what you have to. I have to stay down here to make sure he doesn't wake up." He nods and grabs the guards key card and takes an elevator up. The cameras had already been taken care of so my only worry was keeping this guy out cold. I let up on his carotid arteries, scared the limited amount of oxygen to the brain would leave him with lasting effects. He stirred slightly but still seemed to be asleep in his chair. Soon Frenchie came running down with some files and a flash drive.

       "Help me grab him." He said as he tried to lift the security guard from his chair. 

      "What why?"

      "I might have made a small mistake and caught the lab on fire. Just grab his legs for me, ma petite poulette." Frenchie pleaded as he tried to drag the larger man. I hurried and grabbed his ankles and laid him on the sidewalk as the van pulled up. The cold rain and movement was enough to make him come too. He started to open his eyes as the van doors closed with Frenchie and I safely inside. It was a rush, we were greeted with a very happy M.M who pulled me into the tightest hug I had even received.

       "You did it kid! That was great!" He said letting me go. Even Billy was smiling and for once it wasn't for something bad. 

          I was walking back to the shelter that night when some asshole came up from behind me and grabbed my backpack. It ripped and all my stuff fell on the wet ground. Books, wallet, snacks and my ancient Homelander plush. The mugger tried to grab my wallet but before he could a red gloved hand grabbed him by his head and flung him into the air. I screamed in surprise and fell on my butt. Every hair on my body stood on end as I looked up and saw Homelander himself in front of me. I had thought for so long what I would do when presented with this opportunity. Here he was right in front of me and I was so scared I couldn't even move. 

      "Oh we got an old fan." He says as he bends down and picks up the old Homelander toy. "One of the first series. Very rare, if you want I'll sign it for you sweetheart." He says with a grin that makes me sick to my stomach. 

      "N-no thank y-you." I say as I pick up my torn bag and start to put stuff back into it. He just stood there looking at the toy.

      "Where did you get this, I don't think it ever went to stores. Marketing thought the smile was too wide on it and that it would creep out kids." He said with a laugh. 

       "I don't remember." I say quickly I couldn't exactly say my mom you dated gave it to me. I stand up and hold my bag opened for him to drop it in. He stared at me for a second as his grin left his face. 

     "You know you look so familiar. Did you go to the fan signing in Central Park?" He asked as he put the plush back in my bag. I never looked him in the eyes. I couldn't every time I saw his photo on billboards all I could see was his glowing red eyes. I looked down at the ground.

      "Um yeah yeah I was. It was great meeting you. I have to go through." I say quickly as I run across to the other side of the road. I didn't look back as I speed walked away. 

       "Wait one minute." He said in a commanding voice. I froze solid right in my spot. He walked in front of me and held up my wallet. I must have missed it on the ground.

      "Oh thank you so much. It was great meeting you but I have classes tomorrow. " I say as I take it back from him I lie for my life.

     "Yes of course school is very important, you have a safe night." He says before he jumps into the air. I had never ran so fast in my life.

      In bed that night I was beating myself up. He was right there why couldn't I just do it. It would have been perfect. No one around, just him and I. I could have ended it then and there. I hated myself for being too pathetic to do what I knew was right. Finally I let myself fall asleep. All night I was haunted by his red eyes and the sounds of rubble falling.

      The next day I got a new bag and had my lunch under a tree in the park when I heard a familiar voice behind me. 

      "How's the sandwich?" I jumped and looked around as Homelander floated down onto view. A bit of sandwich wedged itself in my throat. I started to cough and hack before finally it flew out. Homelander made a disgusted face but then smiled down at me. A crowd park might have been safer for me but it made me more nervous. Seeing him in person in broad daylight is somehow more terrifying than you could ever imagine.

I think I have it all figured out I'm going to be posting every other day and on the off days I'll be posting a Batfam fanfic on another Tumblr if that interests you at all here's that link feel free to stop by.

[abbatoirablaze]

Welcome To The Dollhouse, Kemp's Goddess

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: sexual situations, taboo relationships.

Brendan Steven Kemp was wound up so tight that nothing could get him to relax. 

Not even the ludicrous idea that one of his buddies, Freezy had offered up. 

He scoffed as he looked at the blacked-out card that his friend had given him.  The raised lettering was the only indication that there was something on the card, as the letters and the small piece of cardstock it was printed on were indistinguishable from one another.

The place looked like a hotel from the outside. 

He stood on the corner, waiting for Freezy to show up, and he couldn’t help but notice the scattered approach as a few men wandered in.  

“Coulda gone in…given them the card…a guy doesn’t just enter the building and the owners aren’t aware of who they are.”

Kemp sniffed the air. 

He didn’t need to turn around to smell the cigarette smoke from the butcher behind him, “nice of you to finally show up, Pronge…”

“That card was your invitation,” he pointed out, nodding at the small rectangle the doctor had absentmindedly been thumbing, “surprised your employer hadn’t sent one out to you…”

“They did…” he said absentmindedly, shrugging his shoulders, “just never felt like I needed it…”

“If there’s one thing in this world you need, it’s to find a pretty little piece of pussy and get laid.  You’ve got a hard job to maintain…and a lot of guys don’t…might as well enjoy it while your employers still like you.”

Kemp turned his head until he was looking at the man who stood next to him.  Pronge dropped the cigarette and waited for his response.

“You’re vulgar…you know that?”

“Being vulgar would have been if I told you to eat the little slut…and then eat her the way you do other women…”

“They know of my…tastes?”

“There are far worse men then you in there…hell, some of the girls will probably offer themselves up as a personal feast once they know…”

Kemp narrowed his eyes at his friend, “what?”

“The Dollhouse started when Barnes and Rogers knocked down a sex ring that ran all through the globe…but the girls…didn’t want to leave…” he said with another shrug, “then more showed up…so they started inviting some others by…word got around in some of the dark corners…and well…the dollhouse became a thing.  It’s invitation only, so you know…”

“But the girls…”

“You’ll see,” he replied in short.  He nudged his friend, “come on…let me show you around while I find someone to…take the edge off…who knows…maybe the girl I like is freed up.”

The men walked in silence, heading up to the establishment.  Kemp noticed that there were cameras nearly everywhere, and while he could see the windows and doors, he couldn’t actually see into the building, even after he’d stepped under the awning. 

He followed Pronge, stopping as he knocked on the large, double doors. 

After a moment they opened, and they were discreetly led inside. 

Kemp was surprised by the sheer number of women relaxing in the main foyer alone.  Off to the left, he could see a bar and various areas for seating.  Further back, he could see a trio of stages, where women were entertaining. 

Before he could investigate the right side, Pronge was pulling him to the left.  A pair of men nodded at them, and Pronge returned it, “new member Kemp.”

“Pronge!”

“They’re…security…” he said quietly as they approached.  The second man nodded at Brendan, “he wants your card.”

“Why?”

“New members usually scope out the talent on the left, before heading off to the right…” he replied, “plus…since you have your own…status…and you’re not mooching off mine, they’ll want a card.  After that, you’ll be fine.”

Kemp huffed but handed off the card without question.  The men nodded, and retreated, the card in hand. 

“That’s it?”

“That’s it…welcome to the dollhouse, bud.”

“Isn’t that-“

“Don’t ask a question you know the answer to,” Pronge said simply as he nursed the beer and watched the dancers.

“I-I mean, I know that you told me before we got here, but I guess I just didn’t believe it,” he shrugged, “I mean…they’re superheroes…”

“They started the dollhouse,” he reminded him, “you’ll see em from time to time.  Don’t approach them, and they won’t approach you…only real reason to talk to them is if you got business with em.  If you wanna sponsor a girl…”

“And that-“

Kemp had started pointing out another well-to-do member of society when Pronge cut him off with a look, “Rule one…don’t ask questions.  A lot of the guys here know each other in one way or another.  And they aren’t always on the side that’s deemed ‘wrong.’  You’ll see a lot of people…stop fucking asking questions before they think you’re going to go against the rules.  Discretion, Kemp.  You should know that.”

“I-I won’t fuck up, Pronge.  I jus-“

“Don’t…” Pronge said forcefully, “just don’t, Kemp…”

Brendan noticed one of the heads turning towards him and the breath stole away in his chest. 

One of the super soldiers was eyeing him down.  Before he could so much as move a muscle, the superhero in question had pushed the girl off his lap and was stalking towards him. 

Bucky Barnes looked even more intimidating in person. 

 “New member.”

The words seemed to strike him through the chest like a bolt of lightning.  All he could do was nod as the stoic superhero stared down at him in his chair.

There was a stare down as both men seemed to watch the other for any weaknesses. 

Kemp gave the man an awkward smile.

“Dr. Kemp,” Bucky smiled, holding out his right hand to the younger man, “glad you finally accepted the invitation.”

“Y-you know who I am?”

He chuckled, his baritone sending a matching up with the vibrating bass of the music, “Steve and I are very careful and vet the prospective members…thoroughly.”

Kemp nodded, “I see…”

“Surprised Pronge didn’t take you to the right…this side is more…tame…I would have thought that the right side would have been…more to your…tastes…”

“Is it, now?”

“Wanted to start him off on the lighter side of the Dollhouse!” Pronge said quickly, jumping in to the conversation, “despite his…profession, Kemp here has a taste for the more…innocent side of life.”

“Hmm,” the super soldier said thoughtfully.  He nodded to himself for a moment before nodding off in another direction, “I think I might have something to your tastes then…some talent that is right up your alley.  Please, follow me, Dr. Kemp.”

Brendan stared at the innocent looking goddess who was letting another girl doll her up, “for the time being…she’s off limits…she’s not…there yet…”

His eyes snapped to the super soldier, “then why-“

“The man who is…supplementing her,” Bucky began, pointing at first to the older one, “is paying the fee for her younger sister so that they stay together…she turns eighteen in a few days…”

“So you…”

“I’m just saying,” Bucky hinted as he cut the doctor off, “she’s as pure as they come.  Never touched herself…never even kissed a man.”

Brendan felt like he was getting hot under the collar the longer he watched the young woman, “she never-“

“She’s been sheltered…the sister came to us a number of years ago…dad was a gambling fool…mother was a junkie.  She wanted something…different for her and her sister.  Something safe.”

“So, she came here?”

“Her benefactor is going to stop paying for her little sister the day she turns eighteen…and she’s aware that she’ll be on the floor with the others,” Bucky shrugged, “if you like them…innocent…she’s a perfect match…but if you’re looking for someone you can…feast o-“

“I wouldn’t touch a hair on her head!” Kemp said definitively, still awe-struck over the young woman.

“Are you interested in examining her?” Bucky asked innocently, “to see that she would be up to your standards, should you want to be her next benefactor?”

His throat tightened as he nodded, “c-can I?”

“Oh, Dr. Kemp…this is the dollhouse,” Bucky smiled, a Cheshire-catted grin making its way to his face, “there is so much you can do here.”

Bucky knocked on the window and the two women stopped.  Quickly, their smiles faded, and the elder one got the younger one in order, before they both showed up at the door to the left. 

“Angel…it’s time!”

“She-she’s not eighteen though.  She-“

Bucky held up his hand, and she quieted herself, “little doll…I have someone who is interested in being your benefactor…he’s going to take you to the exam room to see that you fit to his…specifications.  I trust that you’ll be good.”

She merely nodded, and bowed her head, showing him that she was acknowledging him.  She stepped past her older sister and lined up behind Bucky.

“Doctor Kemp…let me show you and your little doll to the exam room.”

Brendan stared at her in awe.  There was almost the whole room between them, and yet he felt like he was going to collapse. 

“A-Am I not to your liking, Doctor Kemp?”

His eyes shot away from her naked body to her eyes. The surprise that laced the spring greens sent himself into a world of wonder. 

“Yo-you’re naked!”

“Would you prefer I get dressed?” she asked cautiously, already reaching for the robe that she’d been wearing when Barnes had brought them to the room. 

“I-I just-“

“I’m sorry I am not to your liking, Doctor Kemp.  I wil-“

But he had rushed her, practically falling on his hands and knees to get to her.  His large hands encapsulated her own as he stopped her from re-dressing.

“I want to worship you!”

She was surprised to hear those words coming from his lips, “Wh-what?”

“You’re so beautiful,” he admitted, his hands falling away from hers, and falling onto her unblemished, petite hips.  She gasped as he nuzzled against her thigh, so unbearably close to her sex, “you’re so perfect…”

He felt his pants tightening.  He could smell the sweetness of her core like a fresh, ripe fruit that was waiting to be plucked and tasted. 

“S-so you want me?”

“If you’ll have me,” he moaned.  A shiver ran down her spine at his words and her thighs instinctively clenched.  He fought against every single one of his urges as he pushed himself away from her, “I-I’m sorry…I-I shouldn’t touch you.  Not until I’v-“

“Please touch me!”

The words died in his throat as he tried to hold on to what little composure he had around her, “Excuse me?”

She dropped to her knees in front of him, “I-is it wrong to want to kiss you?”

A fondness grew in his chest, the smallest of smiles playing on his lips, “you want to kiss me?”

“More than anything,” she admitted, “I-I’ve never kissed anyone…but my sister told me that when I came of age…I would have to earn my way.  Her benefactor…he won’t pay for me once I’m legal.  And I don’t want to leav-“

Butterflies danced in his belly as he pulled her towards himself, their lips clashing in a feverish state.   His head began to feel light, and a dizziness weighed on him as her lips worked perfectly against his own. 

He moaned softly as her mouth opened, allowing him access. She allowed him to have the upper hand for a moment, before her teeth nibbled on his bottom lip, tugging and nipping at the already swelling flesh.  He groaned, pulling her into his lap and eagerly grinding his hardened length against her soaked core. 

Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling on the chocolate strands.

“T-take me,” she begged softly, between the passionate kisses, “I want to be yours.”

“I’m going to worship you like the goddess you are,” he promised, laying her down gently until he was hovering over her.  He broke the kiss, and her hands went down to his pants.  She eagerly unzipped him and pulled his pants and boxer briefs down with a singular tug, “you’re mine, sweet goddess…but I belong to you, just as well…”

“Mine,” she purred against his ear.  Her lips went back to work, trailing along his cheek and jaw bone, before settling on his neck.  She began to nip at him once more, creating surefire marks for the morning, “all mine…”

“All yours!” he promised, his hips bucking up towards her.

[kabibblewrites]

Ask Questions

LET'S GO ANSWERED ASK TIME BBY

Is she going to stay YN or are you going to give her a name?

I'm going to give her a last name, but I'm really gonna try to write it such that [Y/N] or [Name] isn't explicitly used in abundance. That way everybody can feel like they're part of the story! I know a lot of people find the [YN] jarring as far as flow goes, and so I'm going to try to minimize it's use as much as possible.

There will definitely be some parts I'm sure where I'll need to use it, but for the sake of flow I'm going to try to make it as natural as possible.

As far as their last name...it's Tatsuma. Because that's the Family that Reader chose. <3

2. Can you share fun facts about her?

Reader attended her college program in America on a scholarship (so she's bilingual). She and Ryuko ended up video chatting at all kinds of weird hours thanks to the time difference. I like to imagine there was probably also a group chat that got inundated with all kinds of pictures and updates!

Her official job is in Risk Management with a focus on Pro Hero Liabilities, Damages, and Insurance. Essentially the liaison between agencies, Pro Hero's insurance policies, and she's the adjuster on claims for aforementioned damages (property or otherwise). The clerks can either work for third party insurance agencies or with a Hero Agency directly managing their insurance policies, payouts, and claims. As you can imagine, it's a lot of numbers.

Pro Hero chucks your car through a building? She's the one that manages that on behalf of the Pro Hero's Agency. Large agencies can usually afford to have their own dedicated Clerks and Adjusters, but smaller agencies contract out to 'Companies' that handle that sort of thing.

She got a bunch of vindictive pleasure of seeing All Might being active in America during her program. She was also known on her college campus for her Fiery Distaste of Pro Hero Endeavor when it came to discussing international rankings or Property Damage rates.

General Theory among the Risk Management course was that he blew up her car or something in collateral damages or something, but nobody was ever really sure.

Her Top 5 Favorite Heroes are: Ryukyu, All Might, Wild Wild Pussycats, Godzillo, and Present Mic (she likes his radio show).

3. What inspired you to create her?

There I was, sitting on my ass one snow-day like "Damn I wish Shouto had a better fucking family life--WAIT I CAN GIVE HIM ONE!"

Then I was like "I will also incorporate the Dabi is Touya Todoroki Theory" that was popular before the reveal.

I'm a sucker for family fix-it and Golden Route stories. Also I LIVE for found family and Characters who are now Dads to Gremlins. Dadzawa and Dadmight are my jams

As far as Reader's personality SPECIFICALLY...you'd need to have a pretty big fuckin' backbone to go against the Mountain of Horrible Temperament that is Enji Todoroki, so I started thinking about what may have caused him to be like that. I thought about what it might be like to have to constantly live with somebody with that Holier than Thou attitude, and what that must be like for somebody who wasn't as strong as he was. I admit that a LOT of fanfiction exploring Bakugou's bad attitude kind of steered how I figured Enji was raised. Bakugou was never told 'no' as a kid, and was always told he was going to be great...but lucked out that he ended up catching his mistakes in the Manga (eventually).

Enji Todoroki managed to make it to adulthood without Checking Himself before he Wrecked Himself, so I wrote Reader exploring that kind of childhood.

Also at the time I was a Teacher and I needed SOMETHING to do that wasn't stuffing my face with a dozen Krispy Kreme donuts every night due to stress so I picked up the super unstressful habit of WRITING /s

4. What's her relationship with All Might going to be like?

Until she knows him better/realizes he's her Super Hot Fence Hopping Neighbor, her relationship with All Might is going to be separated in the sense that most Fans are. Maybe with a little bit of personal umph in there because she wants SOMEBODY to keep putting Enji in his place and All Might is the most equipped to do it.

She also agrees with what he stands for, and helping others. It doesn't hurt that Shouto and Izuku are basically in love with the guy, so he's her favorite on principle because anything that makes Her Kids Happy makes her happy too.

It wouldn't matter if those kids were obsessed with Condiment King she'd buy all his merch if that was the case. It does come back to bite her in the ass when Touya smirks and asks for Midnight Merch and she side-eyes the fuck out of him because he's SUCH a little shit and he knows it

After she knows?

"I cannot bELIEVE you let me bad-mouth your Agency's handling of the last villain incident you listened to me BITCH ABOUT YOUR POLICY FOR HOURS--"

"I thought it was cute."

"I told you that you had a nice ass TO YOUR FACE!"

"That was also cute."

5. What's the relationship going to be like with her and her other niece and nephews?

***Natsuo: This boy has been stuck in the Middle for SO LONG. Between Touya having mental breakdowns at him, his parents fighting, and Fuyumi trying to constantly Fix the Family, he has not been allowed to Feel his Feelings for a long time. Co-conductor of the Endeavor Hate Train now that he is allowed to openly express his frustration with the previous family dynamic.

As far as his relationship with the Reader, he's on edge at first and keeps to himself. Definitely the 'Watch and Wait for the other shoe to drop' kind of situation. It takes a while before he's convinced that it's real and not just Endeavor Lite. He's quiet and easy going now that he's not under so much stress, and spends a lot of time being Very Interested in what Reader does for a living. He's interested in the Medical Field or Medical Warefare (according to the wiki), so he's interested in the non-spotlight hero work.

Definitely sits with Reader and popcorn going over old fight documentaries and pointing out the best ways to minimize damage, apply medical knowledge to combat situations, and treat casualties. Izuku fucking lives for these discussions and "Nerd Night" is a regular feature in the household (Fuyumi likes to watch her family be happy, Shouto is happy to discuss Pro Heros, and Touya just scrolls on his phone but he's THERE ok they're HIS nerds)

***Fuyumi: Eldest Daughter Syndrome (more like ONLY daughter syndrome) is going to be SO hard for Reader to break; but she's going to make damn sure that Fuyumi is able to have her own life outside of constantly trying to fix her family's problems! Out of all the siblings (aside from Shouto), Fuyumi is going to be the first one to warm up to Reader.

Reader makes sure to have Girls Night with Fuyumi either one-on-one or with Ryuko in attendance. It's important to have that dedicated time when you're surrounded by testosterone all the time! The fact that she wants to be a Teacher is touching and Reader is There For It and waving the biggest fucking embarrassing banner she can find at Graduation.

Fuyumi also gives The Stinkiest Side Eye whenever Reader just eats an entire box single-pack ramen noodles for dinner on late nights/busy seasons for work.

"Did you eat today?"

"Does 3 packages of Ramen count as eating--"

"AUNTIE I SWEAR--"

***Touya:

The TRAUMA with this one. Touya is going to be the kid that parents think of when they go "I hope you have a kid JUST LIKE YOU" only then Reader will shove her foot up their ass. He was raised just as brutally as Shouto was training wise, but then as soon as his Quirk started to show some drawbacks he was dropped like a sack of hot potatoes in favor of his literal baby brother.

This crushed his self-worth and he took it out on his Siblings (especially Shouto). Of all the siblings, Touya is going to be the one that holds out on Reader the longest. He just doesn't believe her when she tells him that it's ok to hurt, or that he's still worth something. There will be some INTENSE family therapy sessions with just the two of them, along with joint family therapy sessions to work through the trauma and abuse. Honestly that's not even going to cut it...and that's where Papa Yama has to step in and give him an outlet in the form of the Kickboxing Gym.

Sometimes you just have to punch a photo of your shitlord dad that your Aunt tapes to a punching bag for you to address your feelings.

Reader and Ryuko work together and find a quirk therapist to help Touya work through the drawbacks of his high-temperature fire, and one day he comes to Reader and asks if he can be a hero like he is with his flaws and all, and she doesn't even hesitate when she tells him "of fucking course you can, you are perfect just as you are."

He may have ended up dropping his cup and crying but then when it shows up in a display cabinet Kintsugi style...

"Oh shit? Am I the Kintsugi?"

"Yes you idiot you're my Kintsugi and I love you."

"You are a fucking sap"

"I am YOUR fucking sap get over here and give me a hug"

"Ew no fuck off--I SAID NO, STOP CRYING--goddamnit, fine."

Will low key (or maybe just high-key) eviscerate anybody who threatens Reader once he's older. That is HIS Emotional Support Aunt and he'll FIGHT YOU ABOUT IT. Also fiercely protective of his siblings (maybe Izuku and Shouto more so than the others, but this is Big Brother Privileges ok so fuck off)

Random Stranger: You Bitch!

Touya: *PSYCHO MUSIC ACTIVATE*

Shouto and Natsuo: I got your flower, go kick their ass, Bro.

Izuku and Fuyumi: NO TOUYA NO--

Touya: TOUYA YES

Touya is also allowed to blast all the Punk Rock Emo shit he wants even if he's embarrassed that Reader knows ALL THE WORDS and sings them SO FUCKING LOUD when his friends are over. They think she's cool. He knows she's a dork.

5. Does she still do kickboxing or go to her dad's gym?

Yeah, she still shows up from time to time at the gym! She's never NOT going to be there; that was like her second home! Admittedly she's rusty as fuck, but there was No Way that Ryuko and Yama were going to let her just NOT know self defense!

She ended up spending a lot of her free time there growing up, so she's got a decent relationship with the entire gym staff and clientele. Yama has a soft spot for lost causes, so he works a lot with troubled youth programs, giving kids a productive outlet and working through their issues/providing a safe space and positive role model.

As a result most of the reformed thugs in the area and gym patrons are basically like her extended fucking bodyguard network, but she doesn't know it at all. Except when the more vocal ones offer to jump Endeavor, which she knows is a one way ticket to jail so she DOES discourage that.

Yagi thinks it's funny that about 10 high-school aged punks try to corner him one day at the combini after patrol threatening to fight him for Reader's honor. They don't know he's All Might

6. What's her mom like?

Keiko knows what it's like to have people judge you for appearances; girls in her time were supposed to be quiet, small, and demure. Keiko can pick up a fully loaded semi truck and chuck it through the 8th story of a 7-story building. So when Yama shows up, gruff as shit with a soft gooey inside?

She saw that big, burly dragon man and basically screamed "Dibs".

Keiko Tatsuma Does No harm but Takes No Shit. Keiko is the mom that makes homemade pancakes every Sunday, but if you so much as look at her kid wrong she'll break you with her bare hands. She's...a big inspiration to Reader and was the mother she always wanted.

Those are her New Grandkids and they will have UNBRIDLED LOVE AND AFFECTION.

[librarycards]

hi Sarah! asking this here as opposed to over DMs just in case someone needs it (and so it feels less urgent hopefully). anyway the job I'm trying to get is in peer support, which would make me a mandated reporter. obviously I'm tossing that rule right out the window til I move on or get fired, but while I have suicide hotlines and resources and such that don't involve the authorities, I'm almost certain I don't have any for abuse intervention. do you have any idea what to do in that situation, like with non-institutional resources? or should I just leave it? that option leaves a bad taste in my mouth, but like... the closest I've been to this hypothetical situation is gently urging friends to leave their abusive partners, so I'm a little bit out of my league here. tysm if you have any ideas/resources and no worries if not! (I'd have done my own research but like... idk I trust you more than random websites lol. might send this to some other ppl though if that helps take the pressure off)

Thank you so much for reaching out!! I am an adjunct instructor at two universities, at both of which I am also a mandated reporter. I add a disclaimer to my syllabi that students should *only* come to me disclosing sexual abuse, as well as the whole “thoughts of harming yourself/others”, if they actively want me to contact title IX or health services. I put in resources for Podmapping (Mia Mingus), Project LETS, and the Fireweed Collective, and offer in-class opportunities to draft a podmap / make connections with other students so that they have other options.

Project LETS is 1000% anti-cop, and has a resource for identifying abuse on their site. On the bottom of their site, they have a number that can be called or texted by anyone who needs support. Survived & Punished also has a superb guide to survivor support/defense that you might be able to learn from!

There’s also the short-term option of going to a peer respite center, if the person you’re working with wants to move away from their abuser but needs a place to regroup and rest first.

I can also offer you a bit of personal advice — I’ve helped friends leave abusive relationships and recognize / resist abuse from parents. The most helpful things I did were 1) to take a large amount of time out of my day just to listen & ask questions (e.g. if they describe an abusive behavior as if they deserved it, I’d ask “do you think it’s okay to treat another person that way?” And other phrases to start to deprogram them from the abuser’s logic) 2) include them in larger group activities with other friends, to help them build relationships and reverse isolation, and 3) be consistent - show up when you say you will, keep your promises, stay even keeled, even when they do something that infuriates or frustrates you (this is the hardest one).

There’s a delicate balance you have to strike, between treating them like a normal person / not with kid gloves, AND remembering that they need support that others may not. I think that, as a peer support worker, the most important thing you can do is to show and tell your client that you are on their side — not the side of their abuser OR the cops. Taking the time to listen, ask questions, and show up with kindness (even when they frustrate you) is a way of modeling that there are different, better ways of building relationships with others, relationships that your client more than deserves to have.

Hope this helps!

[betty-bourgeoisie]

I guess a key point about community building is that creating and maintaining close trusting relationships with a large number of people is difficult and time consuming, and often times incredibly exhausting. We should not act like it isn't, it is a disservice to those who want to build community to pretend otherwise.

But! If you do that work and you spend that time eventually when you have a bad day someone will leave tupperwares of homemade soup at your door. Eventually you get to a point where if you have to work late someone else will go pick up your kid from school no questions asked and make sure they get dinner. Eventually you don't have to worry about being left alone after a surgery because people will work out their schedules to make sure you're cared for.

The flip side of this of course is that sometimes you are the one leaving tupperwares of soup at someone's door. Sometimes you will be the one picking up someone's kid from school. Sometimes you will have to take a few hours out of your day to care for someone after a surgery. Like I said, community is time consuming and it is work.

But oh my god that work is so worth it.

[spaceouttatime]

Pspsps okay oc kwestshuns

For iterius:

💥 COLLISON - what emotions do they have trouble dealing with?

🥞 PANCAKE - what is their comfort breakfast?

🙊 SPEAK-NO-EVIL - what is something your oc will refuse to stay quiet about?

For sylvan:

🤥 LYING - are they good liars? do they have tells to show they're lying?

🍧 SHAVED ICE - do they still have any objects from their childhood? what significance does it have to them? what would their reaction be if they lost it?

🙉 HEAR-NO-EVIL - what is the worse thing your oc could hear from someone?

And for viktor:

💢 ANGER - what are some habits they have that will take some getting used to?

☕️ HOT BEVERAGE - do they prefer hot or cold drinks? what is their favourite drink?

🙈 SEE-NO-EVIL - whats a side of your oc that they don't want to show other people?

Mwah, enjoy <3

Thank you for the character-building questions, dear! (and for letting me steal that emoji ask meme in general lmao)

For Iterius:

COLLISON - what emotions do they have trouble dealing with?

Iterius struggles with vulnerability. For most of his life, he's outwardly repressed most emotions because they've either not been useful in whatever mission he's got himself set on completing or threatened the identity he's built as cold, calculative, and independent. - In reality, he struggles a lot with the grief, anxiety, and guilt that comes with being his father's son and trying to live up to his legacy. Aumius Ascensus was a decorated general in the turian fleet--a master marksman and leader. And while Iterius did end up becoming a Spectre for the Council later in life, for most of his adult years, he'd either been in the Cabals or doing mercenary work for whatever cause he found to be worthy. - His biotics developed late, and part of him still feels like they ruined his chance of leading the life he was supposed to. He'd been pulled from the Navy because of them, and he remains bitter over the fact that he'd likely disappointed Aumius simply by straying for the path they'd both set for him before the elder Ascensus had passed. Iterius had had potential to follow in his footsteps. - Not only that, but he'd ended up falling for a human, Viktor Lunetta, during the early years after first contact. Even now, after the war with the Reapers, there's a stigma against that sort of relationship. He struggles with a mix of sorrow and outrage about it all, but there's also this underlying feeling of guilt that, like when his biotics developed, he dishonored his father's memory. - But mostly, when it comes to Viktor, Iterius still struggles with the emotional vulnerability part. They care about one another a lot, but they're both very damaged people. And they're still learning how to heal.

PANCAKE - what is their comfort breakfast?

Pretty much the turian equivalent of an omelet! I've headcanoned that turians are primarily carnivorous but supplement their diet with fruits and nuts. He likes to add dextro-amino cheeses and fried meats similar to our bacon; his mum taught him how to cook early on, and he's not half bad. Iterius tends to stay on the lookout for any exports from Syglar, his home planet, as it is home to species, and therefore foods, not found anywhere else in the galaxy. His favorite type of eggs to use for omelets are from a large, ostrich-like bird native to Syglar, and the yolks are blue!

SPEAK NO EVIL - what is something your oc will refuse to stay quiet about?

Ascensus is an avid, AVID hater of the cold. Syglar is hot. Equatorial Palaven, during the years he trained there, was hot. And turians in general are sensitive to the cold. When he's assigned to travel to anywhere cold enough for it to snow, no matter how stoic and resilient he usually is on the job, the poor guy WILL be complaining the entire time. - Thankfully Viktor has caught on to this and tries to pack extra blankets if they're going to Noveria. All I'll say is that the captains' quarters on the Twelfth Labor has an absurd number of pillows and blankets.

For Sylvan (my shep <3):

LYING - are they good liars? do they have tells to show that they're lying?

He's a decent liar when it comes to important things, but he hates doing it. It's another reason Shepard hates playing diplomat, but, y'know, sometimes stakes are high and 'I punch things, not play politician' doesn't cut it. Thankfully, he doesn't have to do it all that often--he's one of those people whose emotions are pretty obvious if you know him well and get a good look at his eyes. They're his big tell, I guess. Very expressive. - Oh, but he can't tell a white lie for shit. He gets all awkward about it; the crew has and will continue to make jokes about how bad he is at it. Sylvan's also chronically dehydrated, so it's a good thing that all Chakwas has to do is ask him if he's drank water that day to get all the info she needs, whether he gives a straight answer or not.

SHAVED ICE - do they still have any objects from their childhood?what significance does it have to them? what would their reaction be if they lost it?

Shep had a good childhood on Mindoir: security, love, and a future. His mother and father were loving in that almost classic kind of way, even if they were a little overprotective, and he had two siblings, one of whom was his twin. - He lost everything in the slaver raids when he was 16. Everything besides the four-leaf clover his sister, Lorrie, had picked for him when they were little. Technically, the actual preserved plant was lost to time on Mindoir, but he has a tattoo on the back of his neck signifying it. After Cerberus rebuilt him, he had to get it redone. Garrus came with him, actually.

HEAR-NO-EVIL - what is the worst thing your oc could hear from someone?

Hm. I suppose something to do with his gender identity. Sylvan Shepard is a transgender man, and while I've taken liberties to assume people are more accepting in the 2180s, it would make him extremely uncomfortable to have that be public knowledge. Shep's a private person, and while he's comfortable with who he is, he'd much rather have the power to decide who he decides to trust with that information.

For Viktor:

ANGER - what are some habits they have that will take some getting used to?

Viktor is somewhat of a morning person. And by that, I mean to say that no matter what time he's waking up, he's going to get ready for the day. And while that's a fantastic trait as a pilot, it's not as fantastic a trait when his sleep-deprived biotic partner would much rather continue to rest in his nest of blankets at 6 in the morning. - Yes, turians need less sleep than humans. Nap Georg (Iterius) is an outlier and should not be counted.

HOT BEVERAGE - do they prefer hot or cold drinks? what is their favorite drink?

He's 100% a hot drink person. Despite being a morning person, Vik is also a caffeine addict. He likes his coffee black and bitter, and as long as it's better than the shitty ration coffee, it's good enough for him. - There's this place on the Citadel that sells coffee beans imported from Earth, and he never passes up the opportunity to snag a few bags, much to his blood pressure's dismay. Back during basic, he used to pay a guy off to get his unwanted rationed coffee. Desperate times.

SEE-NO-EVIL - what's a side of your oc that they don't want to show other people?

Viktor Lunetta can't stay in one place too long. His whole life has been moving from one spot to the next, whether back on Earth or traversing the stars during his Alliance days. He's restless, and sometimes it feels as if he's searching for something. Part of him worries he'll never retire--as long as there's a ship to fly and a bullet in his gun, he can't see himself settling down anywhere. Not really. - At least, it seems his employer doesn't plan on settling anytime soon, either. Their ever-changing crew and shared quarters are enough a home to Viktor.

[canmom]

is an AI image generator better understood as "a tool used by an artist", or "a service commissioned by a patron"? your feelings on this question will correlate pretty much exactly on whether you think this shit is good news or bad.

though as far as the pro-AI side goes, I think there is some slippage between 'the AI neural net learns like a human' and 'the AI is just a tool'.

and oof i did it again. long text post below about encoding, interpolation, plagiarism in art etc.

suppose for the sake of argument we lived in some cool fucked up biopunk world where instead of a data centre crunching numbers, you had brains in jars that spent their life looking at pictures and drawing them in a big training centre, and then it sits on your desk and draws pictures when you ask it. if you tell the brain to draw a picture, and then say 'hey guys look at this picture I made'... well you know, is it really your picture, etc etc.

the objection to 'the computer does all the work' in 3D computer graphics is that actually it takes a stupid amount of work to do anything half decent in CG, it just shifts the work elsewhere from where it is in painting. it's less akin to painting and more to building an elaborate physical diorama and then taking a photo of it. for this reason, computer graphics has been able to slip in fairly easily to the social roles we've designated around making 'art'. CG also has a distinctly different look to existing art forms, the endless quest for photorealism notwithstanding.

AI image generation is trickier to defend from this objection, since the whole selling point is that it's very easy to get 'good results' without specialist knowledge, and its success state is trying to look indistinguishable from other means. (Midjourney's fractal horror landscapes bother people much less since they're obviously AI - this kicked off in serious when AI started to get close enough to be near-indistinguishable.)

the obvious objection to the brain in a jar analogy is that the AI doesn't actually resemble a human all that much, and there's no reason to think it's sapient; it's a robot not a robota.

the way a human learns to make art is a set of practices - certainly they are likely to be inspired by other art that came before them, but as if not more important is the experience of interacting with their chosen tools, the connection with other parts of their life that they put into their art, their relationship to other people who respond to their creations. humans are certainly great imitators but we're not just that, which is why art constantly evolves.

so then what is the "AI" actually doing, if not "learning"? well, it's something more like interpolating and extrapolating. but it's interpolating in a strange abstract multidimensional mathematical space that's fairly opaque to intuitive human understanding, so we have to lean on analogy.

this isn't entirely unalike to the techniques used in image compression. even an older algorithm like JPEG transforms its pixel values into frequencies by the wavelet transform. what's stored in a JPEG file is coefficients of waves that can be added back together to generate the image; it turns out you can discard some of the higher frequencies and still get pretty close. computer programming is in large part about learning to translate data between different representations, 'equivalent' insofar as you can map one to another with the right algorithm.

in that sense then an 'AI' and its dataset does have an approximate encoding of the 'training' data. (I use quotes because it's really important that these are just analogies, it's not an 'intelligence' like an animal and its training is only similar to what a human does when learning.) and this representation can be used to create variations that seem like they might have been in the training data. for another flawed analogy, the text prompt is something like a query into something like an approximate database.

how does that relate to familiar human notions of artistic plagiarism? i see a lot of people get very chewed up about what is and is not 'allowed' in art. (one young artist asked me if it was ok to claim as his own a drawing from photo reference!) the answer i always give is that the problem is with dishonesty, so just be upfront about what you did. if you copy another artist, as long as you say 'i made a study, here's the original by artist xyz', you're in the clear.

in fine art, things get especially screwy. it's already the case that an especially skilled human can create a convincing forgery, so art ends up being associated with some kind of attestation of its pedigree. owning something 'authentic' by the right person means it's extremely valuable, which has little to do with the actual aesthetic qualities of whatever it is. the absurdity of this has been mocked endlessly but it doesn't seem to have stopped at all. meanwhile we've had ~mechanical reproduction~ for a long time, so mass produced exact copies are the norm, and along with it is the legal apparatus of copyright. online, generally the ethics of it has turned into 'feel free to copy but give proper credit'. I've been pretty obsessive about this, always wanting to give a source; i really dislike decontextualised images floating around. but that credit goes as far as naming the artist, maybe giving a little context about when and where it was made, and not an attempt to create a genealogy of inspirations in most cases.

a human artist can learn to imitate another, but it's a truism that learning to imitate an exceptionally skilled artist is amounts to becoming one yourself, and that no matter how hard you try to imitate, some of your own style will shine through. for this reason, studying under someone and taking on their style is understood often as an act of devotion. (though conversely in the eyes of a critic, an artist may be dismissed as derivative if their inspirations are too obvious.)

with AI, the question becomes more complicated, since there's a huge black box in between the input and output, distinct from the black box that is the artist's mind itself. an AI can fairly easily be tuned to imitate someone in particular, for example the infamous Kim Jung Gi AI made recently after his death, which tries to generate images that he might have made. an artist may try to draw in the style of Kim as a tribute to him, using their own subconscious visual library and methods. you could even do this in a different field of art, e.g. a CG artist making a render inspired by one of Kim's drawings. but running that AI would never be seen as an act of devotion, rather an attempt to create a shallow and insulting replacement. ig you could interpret this intuitive feeling thus: it's not carrying forward the practice that Kim dedicated his life to, but presenting some completely different and trivial activity as equivalent.

our notions of plagiarism, copyright etc are pretty broken at the best of times. in general my feeling is that the less restrictions there are on copying, the better, since one of the best ways to learn is to study other people. but I also put a lot of value in having some understanding of history, influence etc. - the stuff sakuga fans like.

AI interpolation is going to just make it all the more screwy. "a tech company took a billion pictures including yours and mashed them into an abstract function that can be probed with text queries, and i queried it with your name and found a picture that's pretty close to something you might have drawn, clearly derivative of your work but not directly plagiarism - what are my ethical obligations to you", all at scale, is not a problem we've had to deal with before. it's a pretty left-field thing for artists, already occupying a tenuous position within capitalism, to have to worry about. unfortunately the default reaction of a lot of people is to try and get the government to make it go away, which is likely to backfire if it goes anywhere. but it is alarming, it is pushing on a lot of existing fault lines in this strange social process we call 'making art'.

(the solution is to give people some sort of insulation from the market, and access to some sort of community of artists not shaped by chasing an Industry. but 'not having to profit a capitalist to live' is unthinkable so...)

to me there is a strong intuitive feeling that what someone querying an 'AI' is doing is not very similar to what an illustrator 'querying their own subconscious' is doing, even if both result in a similar picture. that's not the same as saying it's 'not art', it may be a type of art (what else would it be?), but it's a type of art I have zero interest in and can't see the appeal of doing. which is fine that's just taste, there's plenty of other activities that people do which I don't care about. but insofar as it actually threatens the continued reproduction of types of art I do care about, and is trying very hard to imitate, I really don't like 'AI' and wish it would fuck off as a flash-in-the-pan fad.

anyway, being specific is hard, analogies are always limited, from now on every time I see a post about AI art that I'm moved to respond to, I'll draw a picture instead.

[ciaossu-imagines]

Romantic and Platonic Match-Up for C

Okay, so I admit that your romantic match up for Bungou Stray Dogs is coloured quite a bit because I do know you and know your favourite character in this fandom. Because of that, I cannot imagine shipping you with anyone other than CHUUYA NAKAHARA! So this, plus the platonic match, is coloured by knowing you and is less than a traditional match-up, but I hope you'll enjoy me just kind of talking about how I could see these relationships go!

So, with Chuuya, I see the relationship oddly enough not being a slow build from friendship to a romantic relationship. I think the attraction was there from the start. Though you don't feel sexual attraction, I do think you felt a physical attraction towards Chuuya and he definitely felt one towards you. Chuuya isn't someone who is exactly shy either, and I could see him approaching you first, talking to you, getting to know the basics of you. He asks for your number, tells you he wants to talk to you again, and I can see him being the one to ask you for a date first.

Now, I see this relationship having some hardships, despite the fact that the two of you do get along well. The conversations flow naturally, you both enjoy each others company, and while not afraid of physical touch, Chuuya is ever the gentleman and does not push you for more than you are comfortable with. However, especially at the beginning, at least for the first several months, the issues really did stem from a couple of issues. The first, and most obvious, is that Chuuya is a man who does not open up to others easily. He's not shy about giving his opinions on subjects and such and he maintains great conversations, as mentioned, with you. He shows intense interest in getting to know you but when it comes to letting you get to know him at a level that's more than just surface level? That's where Chuuya does have some issues. Chuuya has some pretty intense walls in place to protect himself and he's not really all that okay with discussing a lot of his life and especially not his past with you. It's a good thing that you are patient with people because if it wasn't for your patience and if it wasn't for the fact that you didn't pressure or push him once you realized he was uncomfortable, the relationship wouldn't have lasted.

The other initial problem was one that you did struggle a little bit with. I do think, while Chuuya did persue a relationship with you, he took you on dates to spots he trusted only, kept you and him largely out of the public eye. At times, it would feel a lot like he was hiding you and it did make you insecure at points. Though you're not usually one to disturb the peace, to confront people, it did get bad enough for you to work up the bravery to do so. Chuuya would have initially dodged the question, probably even a couple times but the problem did largely disappear after he finally answered it. The truth of the matter is, you learned, that Chuuya is high up in the Port Mafia and because of that, he does have enemies. Enemies he didn't want knowing about you, especially because Chuuya does grow attached to you. He doesn't want you hurt because of your connection with him.

I do see Chuuya as someone who does grow attached rather easily, more easily than most, and I think shortly after this conversation with you, he really faces his own feelings towards you…it's probably a couple months, maybe three or four after you two first start dating, and he faces the fact that he has grown quite fond of you. He thinks about you a lot, values your opinions on things. You're the one he wants to share good news with and he looks forward to spending time with you. With you now knowing the truth of his connection to the Port Mafia, knowing the danger dating someone like him brings, and having accepted that, he realizes that, along with his fondness, comes a desire to protect you and have you closer to him. And I can see Chuuya either moving you in early with him or finding you an apartment in a location he can easily keep an eye on your safety in and moving you in there. Anywhere that means he can be with you more often without that worry, where he can protect you and enjoy you.

Now, one lasting and persistent issue in the relationship and one that is unavoidable…your medical issues and condition. Chuuya doesn't judge you based on them, or so he says, but the truth of the matter is that he will almost treat you like you are helpless at times. He insists on doing so much for you, because he does really worry about you and he does just want to keep you safe, happy, and healthy, but there are times you really need to remind him that you are more than capable of doing this thing or that and to please stop babying you. He'll get a little annoyed by being called out but if he doesn't get that callout every now and then, he can easily get carried away in his protectiveness. And it does help you, knowing that all of his actions are coming from just love and wanting to make your life as easy as possible, to accept his actions and to be gentle when you do call him out. And your understanding and that gentleness to your personality? It's exactly what Chuuya needs, not just when it comes to the relationship between the two of you but overall. There are many times when you unknowingly keep his rather short temper from exploding and it's something not only he appreciates but the other members of the Port Mafia, who do learn about you, appreciate as well.

Now, again, this platonic match up is very much coloured by me knowing your favourites and finding it hard to think outside those, so your platonic K match is BANDOU SABUROUTA!

So, as I've previously mentioned in private messages, I do think there was some initial romantic attraction between you and Bandou. However, while the two of you had tried dating, it just didn't work out between the two of you and this is one of those rare cases where I think a romantic relationship actually ended up resulting in a good friendship instead. The two of you got along, you had good conversations and enjoyed each other, and the relationship ended on good terms, the both of you realizing that honestly, you both just wanted different things from a relationship and were really better off as friends.

While Bandou did find it difficult for the first month or so after breaking up to really get used to being your friend, the issue did eventually resolve itself and your friendship started to really take off. I do think the fact that you're this really supportive person, someone who encourages others and isn't at all stingy with the compliments really makes Bandou feel really appreciated. He comes to depend on that a little, those qualities of yours, and you make him feel better about himself, more confident. You become the person he comes to whenever he needs someone to just support him, to listen to him vent, knowing that you'll support him and make him feel better.

That doesn't mean he'll be completely selfish in the friendship though. He most certainly won't be. He's always willing to hear about any problems you're having and he's more than a ready ear for any venting you need to do. Given that Bandou is a very loyal person, a very protective person, and someone who is ready to throw down to help his friends at any moment, sometimes his most immediate solution to your venting though is to offer to commit heinous acts of violence and you do sometimes need to talk him out of doing so. But it's hard not to appreciate how ready to fight for you the boy always is.

I also think, and have always strongly headcanoned, that Bandou is a bit of a nerd. On top of enjoying video and computer games and being really into some fandoms for those, I do think there's a number of manga and anime he likes, he's really into tech and gadgetry, and the fact that you're really into fandoms and a bit of a nerd also gives the two of you things to connect over. He loves that you're willing to get into the things he enjoys and give his fandoms a try and he'll do the same for you. I can even see him being more than willing to go to a con with you, as long as you never let the other HOMRA guys know. He does have a rep to protect after all, haha.

[akumei-official]

soooo at what point in the game did you start thinking, "yeah these two are in love" c:

((yes it's me again. i'll keep spamming you with asks because ive been alone for FAR. TOO. LONG. write that fic. i will be waiting))

No problem, feel free to send me as many questions as you'd like (o´∀`o)

Honestly, I didn't think that at any point in the game. To me, Colress reads as aromantic and single-minded in achieving his goals, and Mei is too busy with the Gym challenge and trying to take down Neo Team Plasma to be falling in love. That being said, the building blocks are there — Colress recognises the player's singular potential, focuses on them out of all the Trainers he's met and battled with, and is supportive of them all throughout their journey. I imagine Mei feels shocked and a little betrayed when she sees Colress at the helm of the Plasma Frigate! She wouldn't have believed someone who had been so kind and encouraging to her was capable of freezing over Opelucid City (and I don't care what the game/manga say, that Kyurem beam definitely killed some people).

It's this tension between Colress coming to care specifically for the player and not caring about what happens to anyone else that fuels my interest in these two. In particular, in the postgame... the fact that he's a little pouty if you refuse to battle him cracks me up, lol. This line post-defeat really sells it for me:

"The things you and your Pokémon have seen and felt… Do they belong to you and you alone? If you would, please have another Pokémon battle with me. By facing you, I feel as if I can see what I should do from now on."

He's really, really trying to understand this "bonds" thing, but Colress's... everything... gets in the way of that. There's no evidence to suggest he's unkind to his own Pokémon, but it's also hard to believe he has the closest relationship with them even if he says he wants the best method to be "the trust between Trainers and their Pokémon, just as it has always been." Still, his strength as a Trainer implies that trust and respect for his Pokémon at least factor into his method of raising them, and I feel like the player would eventually come to understand this. In my interpretation, it's Mei who develops feelings for Colress, largely based on the fact that he's an unremitting source of positivity and confidence in her life. He believes in her. He'll cheer her on in anything. He wants to understand her love for her Pokémon and is slowly beginning to understand it's not something that can be quantified by numbers. It's not too large a step from there to imagine that he'd begin to question what love means, and Mei — who has spent all this time battling him, getting to know him, realising that his values are less evil than naïve — wants to help him find his answer.

By the way, Masters isn't helping.

[audioaujom]

(6) Ex Knows Best

LTWF Hub, < prev, next >

The aforementioned things that inevitably go wrong from the initial notes go wrong here. Everyone has a bad time, and things don’t end looking up for anyone. I absolutely love when I'm writing and my own stuff gives me ick lmao Sorry not sorry please enjoy the horrible hurt and angst !

Word Count: 2837

Chapter TWs: Violence and Injury, Mentioned Past Abusive Relationship, Stalking, Manipulation, Panic Attacks

--

Something was wrong.

Sitting at his desk, Patton couldn’t shake an awful feeling of impending doom as he tried to work on his philosophy essay. Roman was casually flopped on his bed, quiet music playing from his phone as he idly scrolled on it. Patton couldn’t focus on the paper due to both his slowly mounting anxiety and general boredom, thankful for the distraction of his phone going off until he flipped it over to check and saw a message from an unfamiliar number.

————————————

From: (786) 555-1436 102.

Better hurry!!

————————————

A hand flew up to his mouth as his breath caught in his throat, nearly throwing his phone away from him as he stumbled back out of his chair at the implication.

“Pat?” Roman’s question was lost on him, Patton not listening as he slid his shoes on and all but threw himself through the dorm door and down the hall, his stomach sinking with every step.

Patton waited impatiently for the elevator as a confused Roman took the chance to shoot a concerned text to Virgil, recounting the way Patton had checked his phone and then bolted.

Patton’s foot tapped nervously on the tile, leaving the building as soon as he could to run to Thaw Hall. The building was less than 10 minutes away from Patton’s dorm, but it felt like he was running for hours by the time he finally rounded the top corner of steps and dashed into 102 without so much as looking around. “What did you do to him?!” 

There were five boys standing around Logan—three of which he recognized as Alex, Bailey, Kylar, and two that were unfamiliar—with the one at the front grinning wide and holding a large bat. The two new boys; however, were vaguely familiar, the one holding a bat matching Roman’s description of one of his most annoying classmates, Remus—the shock of white hair falling in his eyes recognizable from all the creepshot photos Roman had shown him. He couldn't remember the name of the other, not bothering to wrack his brain for it as he zeroed in on Remus’ bat.

“See, I told you I could get him here.” Remus snarked to the air behind Patton, the latter confused as he hadn't seen anyone else in the room.

“Who are you—?” Patton’s confused question and turn to look behind him were cut off simultaneously by a hand suddenly grabbing the back of his neck, him flinching involuntarily from the contact.

But the only one who used to do that is—

“Hello again, my dear.”

“Janus?” Patton froze, cold fear washing over him at the familiar voice. He couldn’t help but shiver as a hand ran down over the top few notches of his spine to grip one of his shoulders. “How did you find me?”

“Now, is that any way to greet your lover? And here I thought you’d be happy to see me.” “...lover?” Logan asked, voice quiet and confused, but none of the others paid him any mind.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Patton couldn’t will himself to move out of Janus’ grip, gritting his teeth together as he attempted to sound assertive.

“Well... Your friends here on campus are quite lovely.” Janus’ free hand gestured in front of Patton from over his shoulder at the five standing around Logan—who all wave. “When I told them about my predicament… how’d you just run off and left me behind, they were more than happy to help me find you.”

“You…” Patton shook his head, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to try and calm some of his fried nerves. “I got that, but… how did you know I was here?”

“All it took to find you was a quick look through some of your social medias.” Janus explained breezily, Patton not even needing to see him to picture the sinister smirk stretched across his face. “Plus a few of your friends’.”

“You stalked me?!”

“It’s not stalking if you weren’t hiding it.”

“Okay, but I was!” Patton finally jerked forward, whirling around to face an unnervingly calm Janus, crossing his arms and fighting down the tears threatening to form in the corners of his eyes. “I went private online and blocked every alt account you made after we broke it off.”

“But is that really what you want, Patton?” Janus feigned hurt, placing a hand over his heart and giving Patton his most pleading eyes. “For us to be over?”

Despite the disgust and anxiety sloshing around in his stomach, Patton couldn’t manage to get his voice steady even as he choked out a barely affirmative, “Ye—Yes.”

“Are you sure?” Janus took a step forward, Patton stumbling back to keep him from getting any closer again. “You don’t sound so sure, and we were so happy…”

“I know better now than to put up with your manipulative crap, Janus.” Patton’s response was met with a humorless laugh, Janus easily closing the remaining gap to be face to face with him again.

“Oh come on.” Gripping Patton’s shoulders a little harder than necessary, he offered, “Why don’t you and I just go somewhere more private to talk?” 

“No.” Patton stood firm, surprising himself as he managed to steady his voice. “That’s not going to happen.”

“Don’t be like that, my love. You wouldn't want anything to happen to your little pal, would you?”

“...you wouldn’t.”

“I think you being here is enough proof that I would.” Janus shrugged nonchalantly, the glare he sent Logan’s way bitter and unamused. “Besides, it’s not like it feels pain or emotions or anything like that. You’d be better off with me than some… stoic tin can.”

It must really say something if I prefer Logan’s company to yours. Patton thought sourly, shaking his head to clear his mind. “It’s not going to happen, alright? You should really leave.”

“Oh, then I guess you won’t mind if I ask my new acquaintances to wreck your new boy toy.”

“Wait, what—?” Patton looked just in time to see Bailey and Kylar each grab one of his arms, holding him in place even as he struggled. Remus waved cheekily as they all turned to face him, him adjusting his grip on the bat with a deranged smile. “Whoa, hey, there’s no need to—!”

Any other protest he had was cut off by Remus swinging the bat wildly for Logan’s face, a hard crack resounding as Logan just managed to get his arms up to partially block the swing. An almost imperceptible look of regret—pain?—passed across his face as Remus smirked, Alex grabbing and twisting his arms away from his face.

“Oh? You want to try to defend yourself this time? How cute.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed into a glare as Alex pinned one of his arms down against the desk, still attempting to pull away as he gestured with his head towards a panicking Patton. “This is wrong. You’re hurting him.”

“Duh. That’s the whole point, R2-D2.” Remus commented blandly, before smashing the bat down onto Logan’s exposed arm with careful aim to hit hard against the panel on his wrist, causing Logan’s hand to spaz. His fingers twitched and sparked, before locking in a strange half open position as Remus grinned and moved to swing the bat hard at the other panel on his upper arm and cause the whole limb to fall limply off the desk as Alex let go.

“Now, isn’t this fun?” Janus snickered, watching gleefully as Patton tried in vain to pull away from the two holding him.

“Stop it!” Patton was yelling, unable to look at anything but the scene unfolding in front of him as Remus and Whitney—as he finally recalled the remaining boy’s name to be—worked their way up the panels on Logan’s other arm as he tried unsuccessfully to grapple the bat away from Remus.

With both of his arms out of commission—twitching helplessly at his sides—Logan looked worriedly at Patton, the distraction giving Remus the chance to sweep Logan’s legs out from under him. He thudded into the floor, tears springing up to run down Patton’s face as Whitney and Alex hauled his damaged body back onto his feet.

“Oh, darling… Don’t cry. You know how much I hate seeing you cry.” Janus gently wiped the tears off of Patton’s face from behind him, before leaning in to whisper menacingly, “Besides, it’ll just motivate them further.”

“Please, just stop!” Patton let his head drop with a cry, catching one last glimpse of the bat thudding into the side of Logan’s head, his eye on that side flickering out.

“Oh, come on, don’t you want to watch?” Janus mocked, one of his hands snaking up the back of Patton’s head to grip a fistful of his hair and yank his head back up. More tears misted in Patton’s eyes from the pain, Janus using his hold to keep him looking towards a damaged Logan and the others. “After all, this is your fault.”

“No, I—! Please…” Patton winced out, tightly closing his eyes only for Janus to tug at his hair until he opened them again to see Logan backing away from the three as his remaining eye darted around anxiously.

“Then what do you say?”

Patton started to shut his eyes again, but instead just diverted his gaze to the floor at his feet as he whispered a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t really believe you, my dear.” The grip on his hair seemed to tighten even further as Patton refused to look up from the carpet, Janus tutting disapprovingly under his breath. “It doesn’t sound like you mean it.”

“I’m sorry, please…” Patton tried again, lifting his eyes up to see another smack of the bat land hard against Logan’s side. “Just stop it, okay?”

“Hmm, I don’t know…”

Remus jammed the end of the bat right into the center of Logan’s chest, him stumbling back blindly into the desk behind him, his back slamming hard into it as he folded over backwards. His one working eye looked almost glazed as he tried to glance around, his whole body locking up for a moment before he could move again just in time to slide to the floor at the feet of a smirking Remus.

“I’m sorry, okay?! I’m sorry!” Patton tried again, louder. He was no longer struggling against the two, sobbing hard as all three started kicking Logan’s body. One particularly hard kick that landed against the side of Logan’s neck caused him to seemingly short circuit—his whole body lit up with blinding sparks as his other eye shut off and his whole body fell still. “Janus, please!”

“Now that’s what I like to hear.”

“Whoa, what in the fuck is going on here?” 

“Roman?” Patton asked softly, his voice shaky and a little hoarse.

Everyone froze at the same time, turning to look at the now open door as Roman crossed his arms and scanned the scene: falling first on Logan—who was still unmoving on the floor—and then Patton—who could barely make his figure out through his tears.

“Alright, I’ve decided that whatever this ruckus is, it’s unacceptable. You all better stop before I intervene.” Roman threatened from the doorway, his face unreadable. 

“And what are you going to do about it?” Remus mocked, swinging the bat he was holding menacingly.

“You asked for it, then.” Roman shrugged easily, uncrossing his arms to crack his knuckles. “But remember, I did politely ask you to stop. Since you ever-so-nicely ignored me, you’re gonna get what’s coming to you.”

Remus didn’t get the chance to utter any sort of snarky reply before Roman threw a hefty punch at his face, his whole body following through as Remus went careening for the floor. Whitney and Alex jumped in surprise, looking at Roman and backing away as Remus whistled—impressed—and attempted to push himself back up off the floor.

“Wow! What a right hook!”

Roman scoffed, kicking up into Remus’ stomach as soon as it was off the floor, winding him and hopefully keeping him down for good. “Shut up, would you?”

“Right on.” Remus wheezed, giving him a dizzied thumbs up before collapsing as Roman’s cold gaze turned to find Janus.

Janus, Bailey, and Kylar all let go of Patton at the same time, letting him instantly stumble over to Logan’s motionless form on the floor.

“Are we going to have a problem?” Roman demanded, Janus glancing between him and Patton a few times before smiling curtly.

“No, of course not.” He said breezily, turning to leave. “Lovely to meet you, Roman.”

All six of the boys disappeared in an instant, leaving Patton and Roman alone with Logan’s still unmoving body.

“Virgil, I— we— we need to—!” Patton stumbled out in a panic, Roman hesitating before lightly hugging his roommate to try and ground him.

“He's on his way, Patton. Breathe.” Roman instructed softly, breathing deeply in hopes Patton would follow along. “I texted him as soon as you ran out. It's okay now.”

The wait for Virgil was agonizingly slow, Patton barely leveling his breathing off to a fast hyperventilation as Virgil came sliding in through the doors with his backpack haphazardly slung on.

“Pat!” Virgil ran over, eyes locked onto his friend as Roman kept trying to keep him breathing evenly. “Are you okay?! Roman said you freaked and he followed you here and—!!”

“Logan, he—!!” Patton pushed down a fresh sob to gesture at Logan’s body, before he broke down into frantic tears again.

“Oh. Oh! Shit, okay, hold on.” Virgil awkwardly looked between the two before caving and going over to Logan, opening his backpack and spilling the contents as he lifted Logan's head onto his lap to get a better angle on him. “Let me see if I can get him back online.”

“What happened, Patton?” Roman asked as Patton finally calmed down seeing Virgil help Logan, him nodding a few times and taking in some deep breaths.

“I don’t… I don't remember…” Patton admitted, wiping at his face and trying not to relapse into sobs. “After he grabbed me it's all kinda fuzzy…”

“He?” Virgil stopped in his once over of Logan, narrowed eyes meeting Patton’s.

“The kids, they… they had a bat, and… Logan hit the desk… they kicked him in the head and—!” Patton cut himself off as his tears welled up again, shaking his head hard to try and keep them at bay.

“Oh fuck, they must've hit the panel on the back of his neck.” Virgil tried to keep his outward panic to a minimum, but the other two clearly understood how bad the situation was as he instructed, “Keep him breathing, Ro.”

“I got him, you get Logan.” Roman nodded, rubbing gentle circles into Patton’s back and taking slow, deep breaths for him to follow.

Patton watched Virgil work through bleary eyes, not quite sure what he was doing while working with very fine tools on the back of Logan’s neck, until Logan suddenly powered back on and sat up straight.

“You back with us, Logan?” Virgil asked hopefully, watching the android blink slowly several times before nodding.

“Yes, I am back to full function. Thank you.” Logan said to Virgil, before quickly turning worried eyes to where Patton was slumped against Roman. “Patton! Are you alright?”

“Yeah, Logan. I’m okay.” Patton smiled unconvincingly, Roman, Logan, and Virgil sharing a unconvinced look.

Virgil reached out to grab one of Patton’s shoulders, softly asking, “Are you okay to talk about what happened?” 

“He’s here, Virge.” Is the only answer Patton gave, explaining nothing.

“He?” Virgil prompted gently, but Patton only shook his head and refused to speak further.

“Can I answer?” Logan spoke after a moment, watching Patton nod with earnest eyes. “I believe Patton called him Janus. He said he was—”

“JANUS?! HERE?!” Virgil immediately exploded, Roman jumping as Logan’s eyes widened in surprise. “I'm going to kill that son of a bitch!”

“Virge?” Roman asked, concerned.

“That's… Can I tell them?” Virgil turned to Patton the way Logan had done just moments before, eyes blazing but shoulders mostly relaxed. Patton nodded again after a moment, before lunging forward at Logan—who pulled him into a hug. “He's Patton’s manipulative stalker piece of shit ex, to put it simply.”

“He did have that shifty look about him.” Roman commented, attempting to lighten the heavy mood.

“I think I understand what happened a little better, then.” Frowning, Logan slowly—and awkwardly—snaked his arms around Patton, who buried himself further in his shoulder.

“We can talk more about this later.” Virgil sighed, unclenching his tight fists to pack up his bag. “Let's get you home, Pat.”

“You’re safe now.” Roman smiled warmly, getting to his feet as Virgil did the same. “We’ll handle him, so don't worry.”

“Things are alright now. I am okay.” Logan soothed, letting go of Patton to get to his feet.

Patton got up to shaking legs with a hand from Logan, managing a watery smile at his assembled friends. “...okay.”