#and now i'm in college and i want to move on from the worst environment i experienced in shs i should try something new

[laswells-ashtray]

The fun thing about taking a childcare course in college is that now I'm going to tell you the 141's key features of attachment when they were children/toddlers and you can't stop me.

If you've seen nay of my Price-posting then you know I think his parental situation consisted of a dead mother and a drunk father who was heavy handed with a belt, this stands.

John's key feature of attachment when he was just a little toddler was safe haven, returning to dad when he was upset even if the man had drunk himself into unconsciousness. But the lack of conscious interaction did nothing to soothe his distress or anxieties, so in the long run, it resulted in an ignorance towards the man's actions. John couldn't tell you if he entered or left a room because he became so apathetic to his presence and he became reliant on himself for comfort and protection that in his adult years it's why trying to explain his discomfort or anxieties to someone else makes his skin crawl. It's also why he so often acts as a base of security for the other men, spending years self-soothing leads him to try and soothe others the way he never was.

Kyle was without a doubt proximity maintenance, didn't matter if it was Mum or Dad. He wouldn't need to be clinging to them but if his Mum was in the living room and then moved to the kitchen then he carry his blocks through to the kitchen table so he could play while she was near. If Dad was out in the garden fixing up his older brother's bike then Kyle had his toy cars and was playing with them on the steps just a few feet away.

He didn't need their attention at every second but he needed the comfort of knowing they were nearby. He has a great relationship with both of his parents, on the worst of days he'll go home and sit in the kitchen while his mother cooks and they'll talk. She doesn't want his help because God, if he isn't fucking useless with anything other than a pot noodle but she'll let him sit there for as long as he needs and they'll just chat about whatever.

Simon's was secure base. If little toddler Simon Riley was exploring a new environment then he needed Mum somewhere in the general vicinity so he could return back to her every 10 minutes or so to stop the experience from becoming overwhelming.

Only, we all know what his childhood was like. And my perception of it is that his mother's mind was elsewhere, her priority was ensuring Simon didn't do anything to anger his father. So, it resulted in almost a disinterest, the less she cares about what the little one is babbling on about then the less likely he is to get enthusiastic and subsequently loud, which would upset his dad. And the lack of interest or comfort she provided led to Simon approaching new environments with an uncharacteristic disinterest for a child of his age, he wouldn't explore or participate in any of the same sensory seeking activities as other children his age. He'd just sit there on his own and glance around with a blank look. In later years he'd struggle to form good relationships with people because of his perceived disinterest, he'd never be enthusiastic about anything. Eventually, he'd learn how to express himself in a way that doesn't make him embarrassed but also can't be mistaken as a lack of care.

Johnny is without a doubt separation distress. Take him away from his Mammy and see what fucking happens. If Mrs MacTavish is cooking then he's standing by her side and holding on to the edge of her cardigan. And when she realises she's three seconds away from tripping over him then he's sitting on the counter and her cardigan is draped over his shoulders as he babbles away at her.

He has a good relationship with his dad too, mind you. His dad never took it personally but Mr MacTavish knows that when Johnny Boy comes home after being away for months, he's heading straight to his Mum to give her a hug. He keeps one of her old scarves at the bottom of his bag and switches it out whenever he goes home not because he can't live without it but he sleeps a little easier knowing that it's there. If there's anyone in his life whose opinion he cares about it's Mum, if he's going to get a new tattoo then he'll ask her opinion on it first and if she has suggestions then you bet your arse that he's adjusting it accordingly. He can go months without talking to her but no force on earth can stop him from being a Mammy's boy.

[manawari]

My dignity when I tried to communicate with my new classmates in the group chat and even tried to pull a joke: 📉📉📉📉📉📉📉📉📉📉📉📉

[ohkkotsuu]

𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒! utahime iori.

ৎ୭ PAIRING: utahime iori x f!reader (she/her pronouns, afab anatomy)

ৎ୭ ABOUT: you and your boyfriend, satoru gojo, have been fighting for a while now. he has been paying too much attention to other girls, breaking your heart and ignoring your needs. when it gets back to utahime, she sees the opportunity to help you, like a good veteran.

ৎ୭ CW/TW: [ NSFW ]. college au/no curses au, cheating (reader cheats on satoru, implications he cheated too), reader is multi, shoko is a bad friend to satoru here i think?? she and utahime talk about fucking you. geto flirted with you (off-screen). utahime is head over heels for you without even noticing. tbh gojo is a bit of a jerk here, but everyone acts like jerk, ngl. utahime was originally going to do it out of petty revenge but she really started to like you. there's a gay vibe between shoko and utahime (they joke about a three way with you), and between gojo and geto. everyone is kinda multi implied. everyone is on college (around 21-26)! reader is a sophomore, gojo is a junior, utahime is a senior. honorary mentions: nanami is a freshman, geto is a junior, shoko is a junior. ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE, I'M NOT A GOOD SMUT WRITER, I AM SO SORRY FOR THIS — this is my first time writing anything along these lines (smut) im sweating buckets, not proofread

PORN WITHOUT MUCH PLOT; fingering, facesitting, 69, mentions of previous sex (among reader and gojo), exhibitionism, possessive behavior (utahime towards reader), praise/worship kink, getting caught, a bit of cuckolding?? nicknames (pretty, darling, princess, lovely, angel).

＃TAGGING: @maisieisbae • thanks for your support! <3

UTAHIME was sure that living with satoru gojo was a kind of divine penance. payment for crimes she committed in a past life. there is no other explanation for how terrible it is to have to deal with a man like him.

and it only got worse when satoru gojo, the worst man she's ever known, got a new girlfriend. you. and oh, you. you were perfect — you are perfect, but you're gojo's. he doesn't let anyone forget, and that makes utahime angrier than any of his lame jokes.

because he could never do you justice.

the first time utahime saw you, she reluctantly found herself at a party she didn't even wanted to attend. that's what she gets for betting against shoko on poker night (she always wins, after all). however, she made the most of the situation by settling into a cozy corner, sipping on her drink while chatting with shoko about anything on mind. exams, people being jerks, the hot girl shoko wants to call, — and utahime's motivational support was important, of course — anything, really.

from her secluded spot, she couldn't help but observe her younger peers recklessly flirting, which added to her growing disdain for the party. she just wanted to de-stress from exam week, but the environment only added to her headache. she was ready to punch any idiot if they made a move on her or her friend. prying eyes and drunken men quickly turned away from the woman's aggressive gaze, making shoko laugh.

as she scanned the room, utahime noticed a familiar face — geto, one of the popular idiots (as she sweetly called them), talking to a group of girls. his flirtatious attitude is usual, what is unusual to see him without his equally well-liked best friend. that damn satoru gojo. utahime couldn't help but feel curious about why he was alone this time. it was strange not to see the partners in crime together.

“is gojo fuckin’ a girl on the second floor or something?” she asks curiously, making shoko raise an eyebrow. “the trash there is all alone.”

shoko giggles, snatching utahime's drink from her hand, earning some protests of her, to take a sip. the alcohol burns in her throat, but she loves anything that burns after all. she stares at her friend and shakes her head no.

“haven't you heard? satoru got a new girlfriend. real cutie.” utahime finds herself interested, tilting her head to encourage her friend to continue. and speaking the truth this time. “okay, you got me. she's hot. like, I mean it. not going to lie, got me really jealous. she's just my type.”

“you got any pictures?”

while shoko searches which coat pocket her cell phone is in (she can never find it at first try), utahime watches who enters through the door. she scowls, rolling her eyes. speak of the devil — satoru gojo himself, but he's not alone. utahime doesn't expect much as he pulls whoever it is along with him to join the party, heading to the dance floor.

gojo always has a girl, or more than one, around him. he is like a light bulb, effortlessly bringing the moths to him. be a girlfriend, fling, sneaky links. it is never lasting. he's the kind of asshole who won't settle for just one girl, and ends up breaking the hearts of several and just disappearing. sometimes he and the other trash (geto) seem to forget they're in public, and act like two hormonal assholes with those girls.

honestly, utahime doesn't know why so many girls find them attractive. what's so special about them? for her, they're cute at best. physical appearance does not make up for the fuckboy attitude. instead of settling down for guys who would care for them, take them on dates — like that freshman, nanami, the kind blonde —, they choose to run after whoever will break their hearts after a good fuck.

then, she sees you. oh, you— good lord. utahime can't help but stare at every step you take, arm in arm with your boyfriend, with him grinning from ear to ear as he guides you through the party. you are the most beautiful girl she has ever seen. with a sweet smile, well-done makeup, in a tight party dress — holy fucking crist. she doesn't even realize that her jaw has dropped or that she's in a trance until shoko nudges her.

“told you.” she has a smirk on her face, and utahime can feel her face heating up in jealousy. “pretty, isn't she?”

“pretty is an understatement. c'mon. what is she doing with a stupid fuck like gojo, anyway? damn, that dress. i can see her thighs.” iori watches you from afar, as your boyfriend asks drinks for the two of you. “how long have they been together?”

shoko thinks for a moment, rummaging through her phone. utahime peeks over her shoulder and she can see that she is searching for your instagram page.

“two months, i think?” shoko laughs when her friend let out an impressed whistle. “It's a new record for satoru, I know, but damn. a girl like that, I would also be with for long. check her insta.”

utahime blames the redness of her cheeks on alcohol. while shoko shows her your page full of selfies, she has to restrain herself from picking up her cell phone and immediately following you. there are so many pictures — pictures of you in baggy pajamas, chilling at home with your boyfriend. bikini photos at the beach or pool. a photo at night, in the stars. and you're so, so pretty in all of them. god damn satoru gojo. always getting the best out of the best.

“don't even look at me with that face, I haven't tasted her, and I won't.” shoko says with a pout. utahime's eyes are still focused on her phone — she's liking a picture of you in a bikini, in what seems to be satoru's house for a pool party.

“what do you mean?”

the music at the party background seems irrelevant. after seeing you, utahime can only hear her own heart hammering in her chest. goddamit, she thinks. im acting like the trash.

“y’know, satoru is always sharing his girls with suguru. they never invite me, though, those assholes.” she says without much resentment, shrugging. “I had asked to go along this time, only that suguru told me that he asked to have her too, and satoru wouldn't let him.”

“you're kidding.” utahime says, shocked. that can't be true. shoko laughs.

“I know, right? they share everything. but i think satoru really likes this one. he doesn't want to leave anything to geto. or me.”

utahime turns her head to see you again. the beautiful girlfriend of satoru gojo. who's actually being ignored as mentioned jerk is paying more attention to his phone than to his girlfriend. utahime feels anger burning inside of her. if she had a girlfriend like you nothing could hold her attention.

“you wanna hit it? i think she's very faithful, so you might wanna avoid being direct.”

“oh, please, shoko.” utahime crosses her arms. “she's that idiot's girlfriend. she will be unhappy with him, look at her face, she's unhappy already. every unhappy woman can use a helping hand, can't she?” both of them smirk at that. “besides, he seems to be getting tired of her already. two months is too much for him. the biggest commitment gojo ever made was a tiny tattoo or something.”

shoko laughs at that. “true, true. why don't you invite her over? i have her number.” she says in a sing-song voice, but utahime shakes her head no.

“i have a better idea, but thanks.”

ieiri just shrugs and smiles at her. the partners on crime can be terrible, but these two know how to misbehave too.

“any chance you invite me, too? three is much better than two, huh?” utahime gives her a light push as a joke, and they both laugh. she looks at you again, smirking slightly, more to herself than to anyone else.

“nah. veterans first.”

utahime's plan actually starts with a simple motive: petty revenge. gojo is the worst of all juniors — since she was a sophomore and he was a freshman, she had no peace. unfortunately, the coming of shoko on her life brought the coming of this imbecile along with her.

there were always reasons for satoru's jokes or mockings. he had this constant joking tone, but she understood how cruel he could be. always bragging about his perfect grades, his good results in sports, how he managed to be captain of the debate club before she could, and of course, bragging about how he could get good pussy without lifting a finger. he had no respect for seniors (or any authority figure, frankly), especially utahime. so teaching him a lesson was the only necessary way to sent a message.

It started in a cliche but simple way. you were at the library, having trouble looking up a stupidly specific book — needed in a research essay required by one of your classes. the library index looked more disorganized than anything, although it's function is exactly the opposite.

it would take half of an afternoon just to find the research materials, and who knows how long to get everything you needed for the essay. not to mention sitting down and writing it all down.

“do you need help?” you hear a voice calling from behind you. you turn on your heels to see a woman. you recognize her. is that woman who is always with shoko, satoru's friend.

“that would be lovely, thanks.” you smile, and she moves close to you to offer assistance. “you're a senior, right? utahime? thanks for the help.”

she nods. god, you're so sweet, she thinks. satoru doesn't deserve you. you introduce yourself quickly and she smiles at you. after a good few minutes of searching and casual conversation, she pokes your shoulder.

“so, this is what you're looking for?” she hands you a heavy book.

“yes! that's it! oh, thank you. you just saved my life on this essay.” she giggles, giving you a reassuring nod.

“hey, no worries. that subject was hell when I was a sophomore. but im good at it now.” she puts her hands on her hips. “are you having difficulties? I can be your tutor, no problem. you don't even have to pay me. courtesy to a friend of shoko's.”

your smile widens, and iori swears her heart skips a beat. in fact, the idea was perfect. satoru and you have been fighting over the last few weeks with the attention he's been giving to random girls (usually in miniskirts). shoko is busy always studying or cheating, and geto — well, he's geto. satoru's best friend who will always side with gojo. so things have been lonely around your house.

plus you know utahime is one of the best in her class. a veteran's help that fell for you at the right time, like a gift from heaven.

“i would be very happy about it, actually. thank you so much! wait, take my number. let's schedule it on days when you're free, okay?”

“uh-huh. perfect.” utahime feels herself smiling like a fool while you exchange phone numbers.

it was the beginning. the preparation of the land. now utahime had to move on to the next part.

tutoring took place every wednesday night. a day you originally planned to spend with satoru at the beginning of your relationship, full of dates and romantic promises — until he starts to get tired. being late for dates, not showing up to them, being seen or photographed at some party instead. then wednesdays nights as a couple just stopped happening. the frequency was decreasing until it stopped completely. you don't even want to see satoru's face after your last fight. he's been acting like a jealous asshole, freaking out at anyone who talks to you. when you try to do the same, he acts like you're insane.

this is one of the concerns you share with utahime. it's been almost five weeks since she's been helping you with the subject — she was the first person you told about your straight A on the essay —, and you have become close. she carries your stuff sometimes, walks you around campus. you text each other late into the night, laughing over silly cat videos or talking about preferences. she's not just a tutor or a senior, she's your friend.

she is a much better listener than satoru. especially in recent times. he rarely visits your apartment now, and you're giving him the cold shoulder. you even started avoiding geto, not wanting to hear through him how your boyfriend is sorry and he is going to change or whatever mess he makes up this time. utahime is the first one you share everything with now. she is happy for her achievements, celebrates with you for them. she's always checking up on you — if you are drinking water, resting. if you can't sleep, she calls you during the night and you laugh until you pass out from tiredness. she makes your anxiety and sadness go away when she's around.

satoru knew how to tolerate, utahime knew how to listen. an important and crucial difference: while moving away from your boyfriend, you grew closer to utahime. every little message or request to do something, even if it was drinking at a random bar, warmed your heart. it was always crowded at first, with even a few freshmen. but then, she reduced the group, and now it's customary for just the two of you to go out.

when you're together, utahime doesn't pay attention to anything else. nobody else. no girl in a miniskirt attracts her attention. her cell phone could beep for minutes and she wouldn't even spare it a glance when you're in the same room as her. she is kind, respects your limits, does her best to help you with everything and is happy when you are happy.

and honestly, she's beautiful. you can't take her gaze away even when you should be paying attention to what she says, not her appearance. she is wearing dark jeans, a black tank top that shows a lot of skin. so simple yet so elegant. her hair is tied in a low ponytail, and she's sitting by your side on your couch, pointing to something at your notebook screen.

she's saying something, but your brain can't quite process the words. the way her lips move is kind of hypnotic.

“and here, you have—” she snaps her fingers in front of you with a smile. “are you listening, angel?”

petnames became a thing. you let her call you that a few times and now, utahime seems addicted to it, even though she doesn't do it in public.

“yeah, no, you got me, sorry. can you repeat that?” she shrugs. normally, she would be irritated by someone who doesn't listen to a tutoring session. but with you?

iori has all the patience in the world and then some more when it's about you.

“i think we could use a break anyway. five minutes and we start again, all right?” you nod as she leans in to kiss your cheek, like she usually do to reward you for a good answer.

as utahime gets up to fetch some water from the kitchen, you start thinking about your relationship with her. the word sounds more serious, something beyond friendship, but there's nothing more fit to it. you realize that you and she are definitely getting closer than usual friends. you feel comfortable in her presence and enjoy her company, and she clearly enjoys yours. in fact, you have noticed that your senior really likes closeness and physical contact, and it's interesting how much you do too. you wonder: this is just a coincidence or if it's a sign of something more?

satoru, always appearing when uninvited even in thought, flashes through your mind. in the beginning of your relationship, he was as lovely as utahime, but things cooled down over time. you start to compare your current relationship with utahime to your past relationship with satoru. you realize that while things may have started out strong with satoru, the passion eventually fizzled out. with utahime, however, you feel a deeper connection that continues to grow with each passing day. could this be something more than friendship?

the guilty of thinking about this when your boyfriend is away consumes your insides. but there's this sparkling though, that question whose answer you so ardently want: what would utahime be like as your girlfriend?

“hey.” she calls, moving closer to you. her glass of water was left on the table on your living room. “you ok? what's on your mind?”

she's so sweet. so sweet and worried all the time, trying to make you comfortable and happy. she would make an wonderful girlfriend.

“yes.” you have to shake that though. what are you thinking? this is utahime, your kind senior. and you have a boyfriend. “just— got stuff on my mind.”

“about you and gojo?” she sits down beside you, worried, watching you nod. “that asshole doesn't return your calls, does he?”

you're never imagining the contempt in her voice. for some reason, utahime really doesn't like satoru. but it's understandable. the way he's been acting lately, doubts about your relationship with him are sprouting like fruit on a tree.

you feel tears well up in your eyes. utahime let out a gasp, worried as hell now. where is the satoru who would bring you flowers and spend hours talking to you when you can't sleep? could he really have just gotten sick of you? got bored?

that's what everyone said it would happen. satoru is not a one woman man, he never was. and judging by the look of things, he never will be. your relationship has just gone downhill steadily over the last few weeks. if you had someone like utahime, none of this would be happening.

“hey.” she calls you gently, whispering your name. utahime puts a hand on your face, tilting your head to look at her. her thumb is wiping away your tears. “don't cry. please. that jerk doesn't deserve you, he doesn't deserve your tears. you could do so much better. you only deserve the better.”

there is an odd consensus that you sense when you look into her eyes. something you two are thinking about. the best is not him.

you're trying to get some words out, to figure what to do next— when utahime leans in, looking you on the eye. her voice is a gentle z soft whisper you thought you wouldn't hear from anyone else. your heart skips a beat.

“can i kiss you?” there's so much despair. so much desire to have you in her voice, like you've never heard from anyone else. something that goes beyond a passing lust or a quickly acquired love.

instead of saying anything, you put your hands on her face, pulling iori close. you smash your lips against hers, letting out a soft sigh against her mouth because of how good it feels. she kisses calmly, a controlled and subtle desire — that's still there, but there is no rush.

there is no explanation for how good this moment is. when you pull apart, she looks at you. what do you whisper sends shivers down her spine.

“again.” her eyes widen. “kiss me again, utahime. and don't stop.”

she leans in, practically smirking against your lips. “whatever you wish, princess.” and she does exactly as you told her.

even though utahime is in no hurry, she gets bolder with every brush of lips. her hands wander around your body and settle on your waist. she pushes her tongue against yours out of the simple desire to be that close to you. it's not a rush. there's desire there, but it's more than that, more than just a passing desire for a good fuck. more than you ever felt coming from satoru.

oh, lord. your boyfriend is travelling and you're here. it's late at night and you're making out with utahime on the couch in your apartment, moaning against her mouth because how good it feels when she sucks your tongue, how she grabs your waist.

iori leans back again, licking her lips — a bit coated with your saliva and hers. the way she looks at you, with that much adoration on her eyes...it makes you forget about gojo in a heartbeat.

“wanna take this to the room, pretty?” and you never said yes so fast in your life.

just once. just this once, just tonight, you promise yourself. what a good liar.

not even you can blame withdrawal on the lewd way your body reacts to hers. utahime undresses you gently, laying you down in bed. the lights on, the curtains drawn, blotting out the sky outside and leaving just you and her. not even the stars will be a witness to it. no other people, no doubts, just you and utahime. the door was left slightly ajar, and she is enjoying each new inch of skin she sees, layer after layer of fabric being leisurely removed. she'll dedicate this whole night just for you, and every other night you want her.

you pull her hair tie, watching the strands coming lose and letting her hair down. she chuckles as she leans down to kiss you again. gentle, soft pecks. you are being treated like glass, like the most precious thing on her life — and it's making you really, really wet.

ever since satoru simply disappeared from the map and only left a message saying he was going to travel, fulfilling your desires all on your own has been an arduous task. she's undoing the clasp of your bra, admiring how your body looks in underwear. better than her sexiest dreams.

“black lingerie, lovely?” you blush and nod, helping her get rid of the rest of your clothes and panties. “i love it.” she whispers, lips pressed against yours, eyes wandering down your body. “help me undress, pretty? it's not fair if you're the only one naked, although I really enjoy the view.”

she chuckles sweetly, seeing your hands move to help her out her crop top, while she's undoing the buttons on her jeans.

“utahime, you're so pretty.” you whisper is like something heaven-sent, just for her.

“am i? you're the pretty one here darling.” utahime wants to give herself a self-control medal for going so long without kissing you. and now that you're naked underneath her, she wants nothing else than to touch you.

but she forces herself to be patient until you two are naked. she gives you a soft kiss on the cheek, whispering a “good girl” as her hands move to cup your breasts. the sensation is quite new, her fingers twisting and pulling your nipples, making moans erupt from you. your tits were never the focus on any previous sex you had.

“mm— ah, utahime, this is...”

“no one played with your nipples before? you seem quite sensitive here.” she pulls one nipple slightly, delighting in the way you moan.

god, you're so pretty she can't decide where to touch first. you're laying down on the mattress, with her sat and settled between your legs. the way you look at her makes her whole body shiver, and utahime bites down her lip as her eyes and one of her hands wander down. her fingertips graze over your stomach, lower abdomen, and—

“is this okay?” she whispers, and you look at her, surprised. “we can stop if you want. we can always stop.” she's so sweet, looking you in the eyes, searching for any sign you're uncomfortable.

but you've never been so comfortable and worked up, really. you nod, looking at her hands.

“yeah. yeah, please— keep going.”

“okay, pretty.” her hand moves down, index finger sliding among your folds, relishing in the wet sound. that gets a moan out of you and a smirk out of iori. “you're so wet. is this all for me, angel?”

“mmm.” you nod, biting down your lip and yelping when she pinches your nipple.

“don’t hide your noises. I'll start touching you now, okay?”

when she gets our approval, her fingers tease you, opening your cunt for a better view. utahime licks down her lips — for weeks now she has been wondering what it tastes like. but patience. she can't have everything in one night, if she wants you wholeheartedly.

she needs to make you want more. and that's exactly what she does, thumb playing with your clit and her other hand giving some special treatment to your breasts. as she ordered, your mouth falls open, letting out lewd noises. it's like you're doused in gasoline and utahime is a spark. her touch sends flames throughout your body.

she gets you panting in seconds, and stops. utahime chuckles meanly at your whines of complaint. “relax, princess.” she instructs, raising her hand to lick of your juices from her fingertips. “i'll start using my fingers just a bit. tell me if it hurts, alright? and help me here when I touch you.”

she coats her fingers in saliva, bringing them down to your entrance again. she massages you, slowly entering one finger as she looks you in the eyes. she can't believe she had to wait so long to see this. your flushed face and erotic moans make every second, every night full of wet dreams of that moment, every minute desiring you more than anything — it's all worth it. she has you now.

she checks that you're okay and starts moving her wrist. you're so wet, the noise of her finger entering you enough to make your cheeks burn. she's trying to find something, her fingertips pressing your insides gently, here, there, until—

“ah!” you moan when she hits your sweet spot.

“found it.” she adds one more finger, pressing onto that spot again and again, making you squirm.

“uta— hime! utahime!” the hand on your chest moves to your waist, helping you grind against her. utahime uses her thumb to play with your clit, making your back arch a bit. “i'm close!”

“yeah? go on, lovely. make a mess on my fingers.” the stretch of a third finger being added is quickly forgotten as your orgasm wash over you. your legs shake, your back arches fully off the bed, and you're grabbing the sheets for dear life.

she doesn't stop immediately, like your boyfriend usually would if he wasn't cumming. she helps you ride out your high. utahime pulls her fingers off you slowly, licking the mess on her fingers, putting them entirely on her mouth while keeping eye contact with you. erotic. half of your brain doesn't fully function. this was so good, better than any orgasm you had before. she found all your weak spots and hit them perfectly.

utahime caress your thigh gently. a nod of approval, which she usually did to congratulate you on a correct answer in tutoring classes. always rewarding you. utahime leans in to give you a kiss, making you taste yourself on her tongue.

“was that good?” she asks as she leans back.

“you’re kidding me?” you're still trying to catch your breath. is she insane? can't she see how perfect this was? “it was amazing. really, really good—” you hesitate, but she smiles at you.

“go on, angel. tell me what's on your mind.” she gently encourages, voice a bit husky.

“can i do anything to make you feel half as good?” you suggest, shyly.

the glint in utahime's eyes would be dangerous if it weren't so attractive. she tilts her head to the side, pretending to think about something — but you two know. she's been dreaming about it for weeks. she is just choosing what to do.

“there is something, yes. we only do if you want it, though.”

you nod, waiting for her to continue. “what is it?”

“did you ever tried facesitting with a woman?”

that's how you're laid back, with utahime hovering over your face. she smells sweet, addictive even. you wonder if the sex is feeling so good because of how you two get along. but that doesn't matter that much now. she's turned so she can touch you, making your legs wide open, facing the door.

“i'm not going to put my full weight on you, but if you need to breathe, tap my thighs or my waist three times. three times, you hear me?” you hear her voice from above you.

“mm-hmm.” you confirm, hands on the top of her thighs, pulling her to you and giving an experimental lick on her cunt. utahime moans softly, and you see that as permission to continue. you feel her taste on your tongue, and it's so good.

soon the gentle, kitten licks you're giving her are becoming more hungry, desperate ones. iori closes her eyes and let her mouth hang open, letting out moans. her hands are flat against your stomach, trying to steady herself.

“oh, that's it, angel.” she praises. “that's so good, keep licking like that. mmm.”

she's on heaven right now, she's sure of it. satoru gojo's cute girlfriend is eating her out just like she dreamt about for weeks. one of her hands move down to your cunt, just as wet as hers.

utahime licks her lips and moves down to lay over you, taking some hair out of her sweaty face and starting to return the favor. you grab her hips, her ass, giving it a light squeeze.

the feeling is electrifying. there is no other way to describe it beyond that. she makes every nerve in your body burn with the flicks of her tongue, as you do for her. she grabs your thighs, pulling them apart. you can feel her muffled moans against your pussy, the vibrations rushing straight to your core.

and the feeling of your tongue on her cunt is the most perfect she ever felt. utahime smirks to herself, thinking about ways to convince you to do this more. but she won't have to. one night has already turned you two into addicts. existing without each other will become impossible after that.

and that's where the best part happens. utahime is giving kitten licks on your clit when she raises her look, looking at the door. her eyes widen as she sees who's standing there: satoru gojo himself, watching you two through the opening with a terrified look on his face.

there is a bouquet of flowers in his hands. the poor thing is pale and utahime would feel sorry for anyone else. she realizes that, from your position, cunt on your face, you can't see him. you don't even know he's there, since gojo didn't make a sound. then she leans back from your cunt, feeling you whine against hers. she doesn't even have to try hard to look happy. you make her so happy.

and she'll make you happy like this idiot never did.

utahime returns to the original position, grinding her hips against your mouth, bringing a hand to finger you and replace her tongue. she looks satoru straight in the eyes as she moans loudly. it's so obscene.

“oh, pretty, just like that. you love licking your senior's pussy, don't you?” your hum of annoyance almost makes her cum on the spot. the way you grab her hips and pull her more to you is driving her insane. but she still has a secondary goal.

she smirks seeing gojo grimace like that. in years, she had never seen him so upset, so angry. and she can guess why. i think satoru really likes this one, shoko said. he broke so many hearts without giving a damn, provoked utahime several times — and on the day he finally, truly likes a girl, his senior is fucking his girlfriend.

well, after tonight, you'll certainly won't be his anymore. utahime will make sure of that. she enjoys the fact that her back arches when you lick her so eagerly, to stare right at him mockingly.

“told you, y-you could do so much better than him. atta girl. perfect little girl, i want your cunt all to myself now.” she shivers as you moan in agreement, her dirty talking turning you on. “haah— you're really close, aren't you, angel? it's okay. I am, too. i wanna cum on your mouth, okay? you'll let me? ‘going to let your senior make a mess on your tongue?”

“uh-huh!” it's hard to talk when you're so overwhelmed by her taste, by the sound of squelch squelch squelch her fingers make when they enter your cunt again and again. she leans in to spit on it, making you moan and shiver, trying to pull her back to you.

“you're never going to let him hit it again, right, princess?” her question makes a vein of anger pop out on satoru's neck. she never saw him so bothered. so, utahime continues, lifting her hips a bit so you can talk, but not see. “who does this cunt belongs to? remind me and I'll let you cum.”

you whine when she's off you, quick to answer and get your release. “yours! yours, utahime! a-ahh— please go harder! i wanna cum!”

she lowers her hips back down, moaning when your mouth eats her like that. she tilts her head to the side, spreading your legs more for gojo to see how much of a mess she's making you. her thumb plays with your clit again, and she starts humping her hips against your tongue, moaning loudly.

“that's right.” she licks her lips and looks the man right in the eye. “all mine, princess. now go on. cum for me.”

her words are the final push that sends you over the edge. your eyes roll to the back of your skull, and the way you moan against her cunt is obscene. utahime finger-fucks you during your high, making you squirm, undecided if he's trying to run away or lean more into her touch. you thrust your tongue inside of her and that's when she loses it.

she cums almost at the same time as you, riding your face while looking your boyfriend in the eye. you two ride out your highs, and she lifts her hips slightly to help you breathe more easily. your eyes are closed, and you're panting. she's breathless too, trying to regain control do to one last thing.

she bites down her lip, and when things are calming down and he's about to leave, pissed, utahime moves her lips to him without making a sound. a phrase she'd said hundreds of times to him before, but he'd never listened to her.

“respect your senior.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀> there will be no part 2.

©OHKKOTSUU on tumblr.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

New Rule: Whoa, Canada | Real Time with Bill Maher

And finally, New Rule. If we want to save our country, we should follow the advice good liberals have given for decades and learn from other countries.

Especially those beacons of progressivism like Canada, England, and Scandinavia, and I agree we should, as long as we're honest about the lessons we're learning. And as long as we're up to date on the current data. Such as, the unemployment rate in the US is 3.8 percent. And in Canada, it's 6.1. And of the 15 North American cities with the worst air pollution, 14 are in Canada.

I'm not citing these stats because I have it out for Canada. I love Canada, and its people, and always have, but I hate zombie lies. Zombie lies. That's when things change but what people say about them doesn't. Yes, for decades, places like Vancouver, and Amsterdam, and Stockholm seemed idyllic, because everything was free and all the energy we needed was produced by riding a bike to your job at the windmill. Canada was where all the treasured goals of liberalism worked perfectly. It was like NPR come to life but with poutine.

Canada was the Statue of Liberty with a low-maintenance haircut and cross-country skis. A giant idealized blue state with single-payer health care, gun control, and abortion on polite demand. Canada was where every woke White college kid, wearing pajama pants outdoors who'd had it up to here with America's racist patriarchy, dreamt of living someday. I mean, besides Gaza.

There's only one problem with thinking everything's better in Canada. It's not. Not anymore anyway. Last year, Canada added 1.3 million people, which is a lot in one year. The equivalent of the US adding 11 million migrants in one year. And now, they are experiencing a housing crisis even worse than ours. And we're sleeping in tents. The median price of a home here is 346 grand, in Canada, converted to US dollars, it's 487. If Barbie moved to Winnipeg, she wouldn't be able to afford her dream house and Ken would be working at Tim Hortons. And because of mortgage debt, Canada has the highest debt to GDP ratio of any G7 nation. I don't know what that means, but it sounds bad.

So does their vaunted health care system, which ranks dead last among high income countries in access to primary health care and ability to see a doctor in a day or two. And it's not for lack of spending. Of the 30 countries with universal coverage, Canada spends over 13 percent of its economy on it, which is a lot of money for free health care.

Look, I'm not saying Canada still isn't a great country. It is, but those aren't paradise numbers. If Canada was an apartment, the lead feature might be "America adjacent." And if America was a rental car, Canada would be "America or similar."

And again, honestly, Canada, I'm not saying any of this 'cause I enjoy it. I don't, 'cause I've always enjoyed you. But I need to cite you as a cautionary tale to help my country. And the moral of that tale is, "Yes, you can move too far left." And when you do, you wind up pushing the people in the middle to the right. At its worst, Canada is what American voters think happens when there's no one putting a check on extreme wokeness.

Like the saga of Canadian shop teacher, Kayla Lemieux, whose pronouns are she/her and those. Kayla is now back to being a guy named Kerry, but two years ago when "they" showed up to teach children, the progressive high school "they" taught at said that they-- They, the school, not the person. Really? You couldn't have found another word? We were using that one. Anyway, okay. They were committed to a safe environment for gender expression. Safe for who? What about the children? What about the equipment in that shop class?

You know, there was once a weirdo D-list movie producer in the '60s named Russ Meyer who made low-budget B movies like Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! And Beyond the Valley of the Dolls. Always featuring women who look like this. His movies played in porn houses and were featured in Hustler and Playboy. Okay, fine, but who says, "No, when it comes to huge, ridiculous tits, let's save that for the kids."

And this is why people vote for Trump. They say in politics, liberals are the gas pedal and conservatives are the brakes, and I'm generally with the gas pedal, but not if we're driving off a cliff.

On the trans issue, America is no ands, ifs, or buts about it, absolutely alone in the world now. An outlier country. Last month, England's National Health Service announced that there's "not enough evidence to support the safety or clinical effectiveness" of puberty blockers for third graders, and that they were going to stop fumbling around with children's privates, because that's Prince Andrew's job.

So too with all the other good place countries in direct opposition to America's choice to affirm children's wishes on switching gender, no matter the age or psychiatric history. The Far Left, which always like to use, "Well, Europe does it." Yeah, no, that doesn't work on this one anymore.

Or on immigration. Sweden opened its borders to over a million and a half immigrants since 2010. And now 20 percent of its citizens are foreign-born and its education system is tanking, and it has Europe's highest rate of gangland killings. And one result is that the far-right parties are in the government now there for the first time.

To which liberals say, "Blaming immigrants for the rising crime rate is racist." Yeah, but is it true? Of course, it's true. It's not a coincidence. The quality of life went down after the Somali gangs started a drug turf war using hand grenades.

Calling it "racist" doesn't solve the problem. It hands future elections to someone who will solve the problem, and who, I promise, you're not going to like.

==

For the record, I've said literally all of this, including making the comparison of flying off a cliff if you rely entirely on the gas pedal. Just saying.

When Trump takes office again, and he will, people will act stunned and ask, "how could this have ever happened?"

[hekateinhell]

♡ + Armand/Daniel in Our House

omg I'm excited, I have so much lore for them I haven't written into the fic yet! Our House is my Armand/Daniel human AU in case none of this makes sense 🫣🫣🫣

• Who is the most affectionate?

In public, it's Armand 100%. He does not know the meaning of the term 'boundaries.' From day one he was all up in Daniel's business, the most possessive and territorial body language you've ever seen -- almost like a guard dog with its owner. Arm around his waist or clinging to the crook of his elbow. Armand's always one 'overly flirtatious look from the cute college barista aimed at Daniel' away from baring his teeth and hissing.

In private, Armand doesn't feel the need to put on such a show and his clinginess manifests more as cuddling into Daniel's side and curling into his lap at any given opportunity. He spent most of his early life in an orphanage before The Bad Stuff™️, so he's been touch starved with only a couple exceptions over the years and he's making up for the lost time.

• Who initiates the handholding?

Armand prefers to hang on directly to a limb like it's an anchor, so it's actually Daniel that will attempt to initiate the handholding not only to give himself more freedom of motion (RIP) but also to remind Armand that he's aware of his needs and he's trying (and wants) to meet them.

• Who worries more for the other?

LOL. Daniel, bless him. Being married to Armand right now is fucking stressful. 🤧

• Who is more likely to ask for help?

Neither of them, things have to get pretty bad before they get there. They're both used to being independent and having to survive shitty environments with minimal support, so it's hard to recognize when it's time for 'Hey, I need help.'

That being said, Daniel was the one to enforce the condition that Armand begin therapy if they were going to move forward as a couple and he did do AA -- so I guess Daniel. His American mentality was much more open to it as well, versus Armand's Eastern European mindset. It took Armand a minute and it was essentially a gun-to-his-head type situation; he is rather fond of Dr. Lydia now though.

• Who is the one always losing the keys?

Daniel. He has about 20 different things to worry about on any given day, and keys are just not one of them. Thankfully Armand's OCD comes into effect here and he always has a spare and a spare-spare, as well as a spare-spare-spare that he's wedged under a loose brick by the window near the fire escape.

So best case scenario if Armand's not home, Daniel will ideally scale up five flights of the fire escape, retrieve the keys, then go back down and enter through the doors like a civilized person. In reality, he totally jiggles that window open with his pocket knife like a burglar. It upsets the cats; the neighbors are used to it, happens at least once every 2-3 months.

• Who leaves little love notes for the other?

Armand.

He's old-fashioned like that and slips a Post-It into Daniel's backpack with either some obscure darkly romantic line from a poem that's mildly unsettling, or something superficially innocent like 'I think I'm ovulating today... xxx A'.

Anyone accidentally glimpsing that on Daniel's desk when it tumbles out as he's rummaging between notebooks and his laptop wouldn't be too surprised, unless they knew Daniel was married to a man and if he wasn't presently blushing red like a tomato from his face to his shirt collar.

• Who can't sleep unless the other is there?

Armand, no one's shocked. He's an incredibly deep sleeper but he has the worst time actually falling asleep if Daniel isn't home (i.e., visiting his family). He usually ends up curled underneath a blanket on the couch with the TV on in the background, more passing in and out of consciousness due to exhaustion than really sleeping, with the cats on his chest and his belly.

Daniel noticed early on during their sleepovers that Armand tends to deep sleep in the fetal position with his arms curled against his chest as if he were holding something. Naturally, Daniel sort of awkwardly/very sweetly gifted him a little stuffed animal so Armand had something to hold when he's not around -- Armand has slept with it every night since. Daniel doesn't travel alone unless it's extenuating circumstances.

• Who is more likely to propose to the other?

Technically, Armand looked that man in the eye mid-fuck in the men's room with his back pressed up against the wall, knees to his shoulders, and announced in complete and utter seriousness within an entire month of dating: 'You're going to marry me.'

To which Daniel, twenty-four years old, in a state of perpetual horniess combined with a healthy smidgen of fear, responded: 'Yeah sure, baby... fuck... You close?'

• Who introduced the other to their family first?

Armand doesn't have any living family, so Daniel.

His parents were superficially nice until it became obvious Armand was fucking their son in a decidedly homoerotic fashion. Armand tries not to let on how much it hurts because he understands the fraught relationship Daniel has with his parents, but it cuts deep because he always hoped if he was fortunate enough to fall in love again, his partner's family would become his own.

He is close to Daniel's baby sister, Caroline. She's too young for Armand to really talk to her about much, but they do text often and she always looks forward to spending a week at 'Danny and Army's' in Brooklyn when Daniel flies her up during semester break to get her out of their parent's house.

• Who is more likely to play with the other's hair?

Daniel loves getting his hands tangled up in Armand's hair, especially when he lets it let long and unruly. Daniel's a fidgety guy when he's working through something in his head (a story, a crisis, why none of the movies Armand loves ever seem to make any sense), and twirling Armand's hair and boinging his curls is a fun tactile distraction.

• Who makes sure the other has meals/stays hydrated?

They both do this. Armand tends to neglect himself when he's depressed and Daniel neglects himself when he's stressed. Armand's big thing is making sure Daniel eats 'like a person.' Daniel's big thing is making sure Armand does basic things like get out of bed, drink water, eat something, anything.

When things get bad, bad, but the show has to go on (i.e., Daniel can't quit his job and life to force-fed Armand a cracker and juice), they implement a simple 'you have to do X by 11am and text me you've completed X' system. It might not work for everyone, but it appeals to Armand's desire to please his husband and receive praise, and it's a small measure of accountability.

• Who is more likely to stand up to anyone for the other?

I think they're equally feral and protective when it comes down to it. Because he knows Armand's past, Daniel is already to go to bat at the slightest provocation.

Armand once took a bite out of a guy for calling Daniel a slur when they were out in public. Yes, Armand does have a somewhat impressive rap sheet.

• Who is the most likely to prepare a surprise for the other?

Daniel can't keep a secret to save his life. As soon as Armand even raises an eyebrow at him, he's in stitches -- no poker face, zero composure.

Armand lives to plan surprise parties and the Big Romantic Gestures that take at least a month and a $1, 000 to pull off.

• Who makes the other pinky promise not to do certain things?

Daniel, and he takes it so seriously. Armand thinks it's childishly charmingly and it gives him butterflies when Daniel crushes his much smaller pinkie against his.

• Who puts a blanket over the other when they fall asleep on the couch?

Armand -- he knows Daniel worries a lot between him and his family and all his editorial deadlines so when he passes out on the couch approximately 10 minutes after dinner, Armand carefully removes his glasses, kisses his forehead, and tucks him in with the rainbow afghan Daniel's granny knitted him decades ago and he's been lugging around ever since he left for college.

[animezinglife]

While it’s not even as much about friends, that instability, uncertainty, and lack of grounding opportunities can and does impact a lot of their mental health.

Someone I care for opened up to me and told me about how hard that process was, especially since he felt he had nothing to fall back on (no college degree) because he’d been recruited right out of high school. Yes, he had a big paycheck, but that paycheck was entirely dependent on his performance on the field. He bounced multiple times from one major league team to another, and hit a rough patch where he ended up in the minors briefly before coming back up. 

He’s a big, strong, very traditionally masculine guy. He’s tough. But even with that laser focus on the goal and task at hand he has, he struggled with that pretty significantly. They understand from Day 1 that they’re constantly going to be traveling and that trades are part of the deal. Yet they’re all human, and despite understanding that, that constant motion can have a heavy impact. He doesn’t tell that story at all from a woe-is-me mentality, but matter-of-factly. 

The biggest difference I’ve noticed between college and pro players is that obvious stability and backup option. My boys (college) always knew they had options if for some reason baseball didn’t work out. It didn’t matter how badly they wanted to go pro--the worst case scenario was that their career might be done in college should something terrible happen or should they peak. They always have a team supporting them: I would be, their 1-3 advisors would be, and so would the coaching staff. They have immediate, easy access to resources a short walk away. Sure, sports psychologists can be contracted and on speed dial, and some teams are moving a lot more in the direction of checking in with their players on a regular basis.

Pro players tend to disregard their well-being a little too often. They understand what they need to do for themselves physically, but not always emotionally and mentally. For some, it can be a hard adjustment. Some of them get into some pretty bad crowds and do things they shouldn’t to cope. Others just continue to put coping on the backburner to focus on the game. It’s getting better, but competitive environments don’t always set the best stage to acknowledge your own vulnerability. Some of them really hit a wall when their professional career’s coming to an end and don’t always think rationally about how vast their options still are.

I’m more tied to baseball, but several of my friends are married to football players (or coaches--the young ones trying to break into the college and pro worlds don’t have it any easier), and none of it’s been great for their marriages or relationships. My friend’s fiance had all of three days to completely pack up his life and less than a week to get settled into a temporary arrangement. She flies back and forth right now and catches the games she can, but they’re still doing long distance. It’s rough on both of them--he’s as sweet as he can be and is extremely family-oriented. It’s been hard for her even when they are together because as social as she is, she also has to adjust to a new circle of coaches’ wives, girlfriends, etc. Some are friendlier than others.

If you make it big in pro sports, you get a big paycheck. There are a lot of sacrifices you make, though. Not everyone can continue making them. I’ve known a couple others who just called it quits altogether after multiple successful seasons.

I'm not going to pretend I'm an expert on it, but pro’s pretty cold and corporate. The players are products in business transactions--some of them maintain very "corporate" relationships while others do become friends or get reunited with old teammates. Some actively can't stand each other. Some thrive in the kind of environment it brings, but not all.

It depends on the person, but across the board I'm not a fan of that system at all.

A lot of people make that kind of lifestyle work though from athletes, to military, etc. I can't relate.

[alphabet-p00p]

winter break

It starts like this. I wake up at eleven am. I lie in bed and soak in the news of the day from twitter. I look around my childhood bedroom, at the books i have not read, at the moments from years gone by. I still have not gotten out of bed. I am overwhelmed by the sheer amount of shit i own, own and don't use, own and don't deserve. Lately i have not gotten out of bed until some one has compelled me to. Today, on december thirty first, twenty twenty one, it was my dad. In the kitchen, munching on whatever leftovers he stubbornly insists on eating, blaring succession on his ipad pro. When he left he made sure to tell me in a way that let me know he was disappointed in me. My feet hit the ground as the front door slammed shut. Lately i have been thinking about my first semester of college. Maybe i need more trauma in my life but i consider that move to be traumatic. The only other move before this was before i could walk, and that was arguably more alienating.

Adoption The only other friend i have who is adopted and that i feel i know well enough to draw comparisons is alex. Alex is afro-latinx from panama and adopted by black parents when they were a baby. Their parents got divorced when they were five but finalized around when they were eleven. They have moved around new jersey a few times with their mother who pressured them to be an exemplary member of the Black Community. Upon hearing their stories i have always been intrigued by the community they have been fortunate to be apart of- familial ties and racial bonds that tether them -whether they like it or not (most often not) to people for life. I do not feel this community with the whites or the asians and it leaves something to be desired. I feel most strongly at the moment an estrangement from myself and my family. This christmas while sitting across from my mother’s sister- my aunt- i sipped my sveda and sprite. I looked in her eyes, my mothers eyes, and wondered what she saw. I didn't look anything like her kids, i didn't have my mother’s eyes. What did she see when she looked at me? What did the rest of them see? My parents called me pessimistic but its hard to look on the bright side when you’ve seen how shitty people can be. Where do you think it picked it up? You put me in the worst environment ever and called it love. And maybe i wouldn't be so mad if they knew why they fucked up but they still don't get it. When I started writing this a year ago i wasn't as mad at white people, i didn't pick up their quirks like i thought i did. Hypervigilant about the wrong things, maybe- or maybe no one taught me to look out for these things, no one gave me an explanation. I heavily interacted with activist and social justice content in highschool, but always from the inner perspective of a white person. I didn't see how the things i read applied to me, because no one taught me how to look for them. I havent really made piece with how i was raised, and it is still upsetting when i am reminded that i was raised white. Upset for past me who had no idea why girls didn't want to be friends with me or why boys didn't really find me pretty, not immediately, anyway. I didn't notice in the past when people saw me as exotic, or when white people would marvel at my thick, poorly managed (bc of lack of knowledge) hair. I didn't notice when other poc’s were interested in being my friend. I notice all of this now, but there is no making peace with this past ignorance. But then my girlfriend would be mad at me, and say i can make peace, right now i can forgive myself, be kinder to myself, but the anger and betrayal i feel towards my parents won't go away completely, i'm afraid.

originally written dec 31, 2021 - added but not edited sept 19, 2023

[one-abuse-survivor]

"35 days" anon

We graduated :D, our "parents" forced us to walk which was highly uncomfortable and awful but at least they said our real name and not our deadname despite it not being our legal name.

And they didn't super ruin it our "mom" kept touching our face afterwards [we've told her before we don't like being touched]. All in all okay though

Our "dad" threatned to not pay for college if he didn't get to come but that was the only super shitty part from them.

We leave now in 2 days and will be home to our partner in 5 I'm so excited and happy , our "mom" invited herself along otherwise we would have left 3 days ago

She keeps insisting we come back here and I'm not going to tell her we never will, its so funny ya know, she thinks because "she only yelled at us sometimes" and apologized for that it absolves her of all the abuse and *it doesn't*, shes an alcoholic and a stoner which meant we had to raise our two younger siblings, she made us see our "dad" during the first part of the divorce and live with him during the seocnd because she didn't want to face more abuse from him [so make an 11 through 15 year old face it instead] AND SHE KNEW he was abusing us, she also hit us more often than him.

I just cant wait to leave thanks for listening to my ramble

purple system

The 30 something days anon, but I'm free I'm home we're with our partner and I'm happy but I'm so anxious all the time now

That their going to dump us, that their parents are going to kick us out why cant I be free

Hey again! I just found your two older asks you signed with a different name. I'll keep the "🧵 anon" tag so it's not confusing. Hope that's okay :)

Congrats again on graduating! I'm so glad you got to say your real name instead of your deadname, that's awesome! Your parents were really shitty, though. I'm sorry to hear they made you walk and they touched and threatened you like that. You didn't deserve any of that. It's so good to know you're far away from both of them now, and away from all their abuse.

It's understandable to be really anxious after leaving an abusive situation, and to have a hard time feeling safe. When you've been living in an unsafe and dangerous environment for very long and you suddenly move out to a safe environment, your brain is still in survival mode. That's why this new perceived safety can subconsciously feel suspicious and unnerving. It can make you feel like the danger must be there, because it's always been, and the fact that you can't perceive it anymore means you're unprotected and vulnerable. Therefore, at any moment, it could catch you off-guard and hurt you just as bad as you've already been hurt in the past.

That's why, immediately after leaving the abusive situation, we can tend to catastrophise and assume the things we fear the most are going to happen. For example, that the people who are taking care of us are going to suddenly turn violent or abandon us.

But that's okay. It's okay if safety feels unnerving, jarring, and unsafe at first. It's okay if it takes a while to stop being hypervigilant and expecting the worst. It's a very common survival reaction. And feeling anxious now doesn't mean you'll never be free. It is absolutely possible to feel safe again after enduring so much trauma. Everyone's recovery journey is different, and it may take a long time to get to that point. But just because you're not there yet, it doesn't mean you'll never get there.

Sending all my support your way ❤���

[littlestickfish]

I have had less than charitable opinions of Burning Man largely for the environmental impact and habitual trespassing onto neighboring Native lands, irrespective of the Eat The Rich of it all. However, I'm human and a seamstress/costumer and the outfits and custom vehicles are fire, and I appreciate the work that goes into something like that, as well as the romance of Mad Maxing it up in the desert.

What this post has taught me is that we need to be able to have all parts of this conversation at once without getting sidetracked by pet issues and look at things in context.

Point: Not everyone there is insanely rich. We should be mindful that our choices in what we save for and spend on are not everyone else's. Making your moped into a giant mechanized snail would be insanely fun. Putting together a killer post-discopocalyptic costume would be insanely fun. Camping out under the stars is fun, too. It is understandable for people to want to have fun no matter who they are.

Point: We have no way of knowing the income tax bracket of anyone in attendance, and from this account it probably varies too widely for trying to get us anywhere. It is pointless to harp on this as if we have actual data because we don't.

Point: The footprint of Burning Man is not justified by the joy anyone derives from being there. It sounds like a blast, but I would never do it because it's detrimental and disrespectful to the environment. Many people have formed negative opinions of the event based on this, and that IS justified. The environmental impact of Burning Man and the waste people who have the means afford to do so up and abandon in the desert has been a problem reported on for several years now. I can't go to a jetty in the Gulf without cleaning up a bag of abandoned beer cans from the rocks, I shudder to think what that area looks like after that kind of activity.

Point: The present crisis is the product of having more fun than sense. To be that surrounded by desert requires stranding oneself in said desert, which is inadvisable unless you have survival training, and sometimes even if you do. No amount of portapotties is going to ensure you have a safe and pleasant stay in the desert, or last you long if the worst happens. As it has. I was taught this as a young girl in Scouts: plan ahead when you go into the wild, and have at least one backup plan if things go sideways. Don't get too comfortable, because the wild is bigger, stronger, and older than you are. Years and years of partying in the wild without incident led people to get way too comfortable.

Point: The "protesters" made just as much a nuisance of themselves to the Native population as the partygoers, were also a bunch of white people yeeting themselves into the desert with no plan, and deserve no more sympathy than the partygoers.

Point: The cognitive dissonance of "I am progressive because I am upset at people suffering and dying therefore I want another set of people to suffer and die" is disturbing, and in this instance the idea of an appropriate target is wildly distorted. My journey on the left has been tumultuous. I started among the socialists but grew frustrated by their outmoded tactics. I moved left to the communists who by and large were pleasant company, but more theoretical than practical. The anarchists promised action. It sounded optimal.

What I found with them was not action. It was increasingly more murderous fantasies never acted on because the fantasy was more satisfying and lasted longer. It was misdirected rage (Veterans? Really? Most of whom got sucked into it on promises of job training with civilian applications and money for college? Are we going to set retirees on fire for investing their savings in a boiler room fraud scheme over the phone on the promise of similar security in life?) reductive thinking (shut up and let me watch Nash Bridges, it's Cheech Marin, it's fiction ffs, and my blorbo is Angel anyway) and bad strategy (yes voting does help, even a dumb old liberal is going to make it easier for you to Direct ActionTM than Ron DeSantis). I'm back in communist orbit, needless to say.

At least the communists have the music.

Point: "Eat The Middle Class" doesn't have the same ring to it, does it? "Eat The Poor Who Can Budget," doesn't, either. Kids, y'all should think about that. And shit like "liberals get the wall too" should give anybody pause. Yeah, it's said in jest, but why is there a wall at all, why are we so obsessed with having a wall? It's disturbing that this is a joking matter to some and more disturbing that it might be quite serious to others.

Point: I also see young people falling into that vortex of comfortable murder thoughts that make you feel powerful and like the inevitable righteous victor and just sitting in it forever when they could be contributing to various progressive causes in much more meaningful ways, and that worries me. Young leftists becoming absorbed in fake-murderous fantasies until the actually-murderous forces of authoritarianism wipe us all out. The proverbial mantis stalking the cicada, just fixated enough on its target to not see the oriole until it's too late.

Seeing the notes on posts about the Burning Man Debacle™ and for fucks sake I am taking the phrase 'eat the rich' away from y'all until you can CORRECTLY IDENTIFY the rich

Rich is 'arrived by way of their private jet', is 'dropped $500k on a submarine ticket', is '$500 is a rounding error'.

'$500 dollars for a nine day event they must all be rich white people' no you reactionary rotten potato that is actually an entirely reasonable price for an entirely normal person to pay for an annual event! $500 over the course of a year is approximately equivalent to one big takeout a month! Being able to afford that doesn't make you rich it makes you probably not poor! The 'rich or poor' narrative is a false dichotomy that completely excludes the fact that 'richness' or 'poorness' is a SCALE! It's not fucking categorical! You don't one day magically flip a switch and go from 'poor' to 'rich' or vice versa you see incremental changes over time! Wealth distribution is a (these days, admittedly, rather wonky) motherfucking BELL CURVE! . The fact that capitalism is driving more and more people to either extreme of said curve is just evidence of a broken system, but it doesn't change the fact that most people should have a decent amount of disposable income!

The fact that many people don't have said disposable income doesn't magically make the ones that do 'rich' it makes everyone else poor. And the people at fault for the massive and growing percentage of people living below the poverty line are not the ones managing to stay above it, it's the fault of the actually rich, the ones stealing our time and our health and our wages and our future in pursuit of a number on a screen. And the rich are the only people you're helping by hating the people struggling slightly less than you.

When it comes time to 'eat the rich' you're going to be murdering dentists and librarians and scientists while the actually rich point and laugh from a safe distance as you solve their problems for them.

[sublimecatgalaxy]

Hi, I hope it's okay that I do another request, could you please write something about the reader having a bad day somewhere new. Like it was her first day and it didn't go as she had hoped. (I had a bad day in a new environment and it didn't go as I had hoped so... yeah?) Anyway, could you please do something fluffy with Jonathan Byers comforting the reader after they come home from wherever and it's all comforting and fluffy. Please and thank you? I hope you're doing okay and your operation went okay and post-op isn't too bad

Finally fulfilling this request because I think it would genuinely help my soul to write and I hope this helps someone else too.

My body is just about to give out by the time my back hits the mattress, my pounding head making my eyes water as I listen to my fan spin on a constant loop.

College was supposed to be fun, a new experience where I learn how to find myself and really dig deep into who I am. But the day started off with me a minute late to my first intro to literature class and the professor slammed the door in my face and made the deliberate effort to lock the door, telling me silently that I wouldn't be welcome in class.

After that, a TA spilled coffee on me as she turned the corner, the scalding drink making a mess of the new sweater I bought just for today. I cried while buying some school merch from the school store, not having enough time between classes to go home and change.

The rest of the events of my day were small enough for me not to remember, other than missing my bus and being forced to walk home a mile and a half in the rain.

I was so excited to move out of Hawkins and to the amazing city of Los Angeles, to attend the school of my dreams and start over. I wanted to get a breath after the years of trauma that Hawkins inflicted upon me and my dearest friends.

And my boyfriend.

My phone ringing beside me snaps me out of my grumpy haze, my eyes tiredly opening to look over at my lit up phone, a smile taking over my expression at the sight of Jonathan's name across the screen. I'm quick to snatch it off of my pillow and answer it without hesitation.

"Hi honey." He hums and my eyes flutter to picture him laying in a similar way that I am, back against his headboard, a fond, excited smile sprawled out across his lips at the sound of my quiet breathing through the phone line.

It's been difficult to get used to the long distance but with Jonathan and I both being very independent people, we've only flourished and our relationship has only gotten stronger. But I'd be lying if I said that, after a day like this, I didn't miss his arms around me.

"Hey, babe. How are you?" I ask, kicking my feet up on the bed and kicking my uncomfortable shoes off at the same time, letting out a breath of relief.

"Good, good. Hopper just left, came over to help Will with some essay." Jonathan chuckles, a small chuckle leaving him as a smirk spreads across my lips.

"Oh, he came just for Will? Not for your mom." I snort, pulling a groaned laugh from my boyfriend as the line breaks up for a moment as he moves.

"Shut up. How was your day?" He asks and suddenly my laughter and happiness is sucked from me at the slight recollection of everything that's happened to me today and shame fills me at the thought of having to tell him how poorly it went. "It was your first day of classes right?" He quizzes with a small sniffle.

"Yeah..." I trail off with a small sigh, shaking my head as my eyes flutter shut. "Would it be already just to say that it was the worst day ever but that I really don't wanna talk about it?" I whisper, my voice trembling a bit and my stomach swirling anxiously.

"Yeah, uh, are you sure you're okay?" He asks, his own anxiety lacing his voice at the thought of me feeling such weighted emotions without him being here to pluck them away, one by one.

"I'm okay now that we're talking. Just tell me something to cheer me up." I laugh, reaching up to bat away any stray tears that have escaped me without permission, my eyes burning.

"Hmm." He hums, clicking his tongue. "I could tell you how much I love you?" He offers and I giggle, rolling over onto my stomach at his cheesiness. "I could tell you how much I missed you today and since you've been gone-"

"Yeah I like this plan." I cheer, a huge grin taking over my flushed, tear stained cheeks.

"Oh yeah?" He laughs, the image of his eyes burning into my mind. "Alright, then stop interrupting and let me make you feel better."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane2828 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi

@crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the-heart @vampviolets@haylee-e@popehaywardssecretgf @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife @smoke-and-fire @officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @smoke-and-fire386 @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy @myaloveee @thyris-is @lagataprrr @aaaaslaaaan @minjix @luvrosee @storytellingwitht

[jenojaemssss]

happier

synopsis: in which mark was happier with you.

pairing: mark x reader (i attempted to write the mc as gender neutral, so lmk if there are any tips on how to be more considerate! i wanna be able to write as inclusively as possible heh)

genre/category: angst, exes!au

word count: 2.4k

a/n: i have an assignment due in like 20 minutes (so i did not get a chance to proofread!!) but i got distracted thinking about mark while listening to my 2017 simp playlist :D so here's a mini-fic (that was supposed to be a drabble) based on this song!

I saw you walk inside a bar.

When Mark looked up from the almost-empty bottle sitting in front of him, he didn’t expect to be greeted by the sight of you. But what caught him even more off guard was that you were entering the bar hand in hand with someone new.

You, not yet noticing your past lover's hunched figure, walk towards a set of empty bar stools, another man's arms wrapped around your waist like possessive belt. Mark began to stare then. He stared at what used to be his reason. What used to be the one who'd wake him up in the morning, who used to be his reason for coming home when the days were too long, yet somehow eventually bled into nights. He continued to stare at what had been his true source of happiness.

In his eyes, you still were. You were his only radiating source of light that made him feel warm. You were his comfort, like a warm blanket during a rainy day, or an iced tea when the weather was too hot to do anything else but lounge around the house with all fans on full blast.

He said something to make you laugh.

Mark noticed how the one that accompanied you looked at you with a small spark in his eyes as you cover your mouth in attempts to shield your erupting laughter. That was a cute habit of yours when you laughed, and he used to stare at you the same way; he was staring at you almost identically as he's sat across the bar at that moment. The only difference now was that Mark stopped being the reason for your bright smiles and warm laughter.

I noticed how both your smiles were twice as wide as ours.

The first encounter between the two of you would forever be engraved in the mind of Mark Lee.

He was walking around a lake during a camping trip with a few of his friends, mindlessly swinging his arms around to cool off. Mid swing, though, he made contact with something he later found out was your face. He apologized so many times that you had almost busted a lung laughing at the poor boy's terrified features.

Soon, Mark joined you, laughing in harmony because apparently being smacked in the face by someone was the funniest thing to the both of you. Mark proceeded to awkwardly ask for your contact information, hoping to make up for the mishap, and you complied because the man was so darn cute.

One meet-up (he never specified it as a date) turned into two, which turned into three, and soon, you were seeing each other everyday in a small cafe hidden within the corners of your shared campus.

The two of you attended the same university, but due to being in different departments, there was never really a chance to come across one another while running to your next classes, but this cafe was the one spot you two had in common.

The cafe meetings soon turned into cafe dates (he clarified this time that they were in fact, dates), and soon enough, you were both head over heels in love, moving in together as you approached your final years of college.

Mark and your's relationship wasn't perfect, but it was always so much fun. Mark was always able to make you laugh because of how awkward he was, and one time you to left him behind on a trip to the grocery store because he was so embarrassing, making stupid puns at the poor worker just trying to stock the shelves of the cereal aisle. That day, you bought a watermelon the size of both your heads combined to make up for leaving him behind.

Mark bitterly smiled at his recollection. That was one of the last times he and you were able to smile together.

You looked happier.

The last time Mark saw you, it was on a sunny, Saturday afternoon. You were on your way back from a trip to your local convenience store, bags of chips, a tub of ice cream, and boxes of candy spilling out of the watermelon themed reusable bag he had left behind after moving out. You were still wearing his hoodie, then. He left that behind for you too.

It made him smile, knowing that you kept it.

Ain't nobody hurt you like I hurt you.

You felt as though you couldn't breathe. When you entered Mark and your shared apartment, you sensed that something was wrong; that something was missing from your normally warm environment. Mark and you have been arguing more frequently recently, and the night before, it was the worst it had been in years.

Mark had been going out later into the night, sleeping on couches of friend's houses more than in his own bed. Your shared bed. You more often than not woke up to nothing, the radiating warmth missing from your side.

You'd had enough of it, and confronted the man when he walked into the apartment at 2 am. Words spewed from either side, along the lines of "I'm sick of this" and "What is there to be sick of?" Mark ended up sleeping on the couch that night while you cried yourself to sleep, clutching Mark's pillow and attempting to hold onto what used to be the warm, delightful love of your life.

The next day when you woke up, he was gone. He texted you saying he had to leave early for work and that you should go ahead and start your day without him, and you did. You began planning ways to talk things out, to fix things with Mark over a nice dinner.

You set your plan to action and made your way to the local market. When you returned home and stepped foot into the kitchen, though, your eyes landed on a small note placed right in the center of the dining table. Written on that note in Mark's sloppy handwriting were the words, "I'm sorry, but I need to clear my head."

You dropped the note and ran into your bedroom, only to see that Mark had taken almost half of his belongings from the cramped space, along with one of the suitcases the two of you placed behind the closet when you first moved in. He was gone.

But ain't nobody love you like I do.

He'd been gone for about 10 days when you receive a call from Donghyuck. The brown-haired boy informed you that Mark has been sleeping on his couch for over a week and would be stopping by within the next few days to take up all of his friend's belongings he'd left behind.

You hummed, almost numbly, and before hanging up, you mustered up the courage to ask Donghyuck if Mark was currently there with him. He hummed in response, and you mumbled a good before dropping the line completely, falling to your knees and sobbing until you no longer had tears to let fall.

You were broken, and it was all because of Mark, yet a piece of you continuously hoped and prayed that he was safe. That he was living in a proper home with a place to sleep, and that he wasn't too cold because he often got cold very easily.

Mark, on the other end of the line, was silently holding in his cries as his best friend hung up the phone, disconnecting him from his one true love. Mark never intended to hurt you the way that he did, but in his mind, because he loved you so much, too much, he had to let you go.

He was noticing how much he was holding you back, from job opportunities to your social life, he believed he was the reason. He was the reason you declined the job offer in the neighboring city because that meant you'd have to either move out or drag Mark with you, and you chose on neither and stayed. He was the reason you never left the house on weekends because only then was he ever home. He was the reason you had bags under your eyes, he soon realized.

You'd been staying up night after night, waiting for him to come home. You'd been crying because he would come home with bags darker than yours. You'd been losing sleep because you spent too much of your time worrying about him.

He was holding you back by loving you.

So he decided to let you go.

Promise that I will not take it personal, baby.

A few months have passed and Mark's finally settled down in a new place in the town you had rejected the job offer from all those months ago. A part of him wished that moving away would offer you closure, knowing that Donghyuck explained his side of the story to you. Mark wanted so badly to be the one who spoke to you that day, but he was afraid of the confrontation. He was scared he'd break and hold you into his arms and promise to never let you go, bringing himself and you back into the endless loop.

So he left. He moved away and had Donghyuck clean up the mess he'd made. Mark owes him one.

The other part of him, though, hoped that you contacted the agency that offered you the job all those months ago. The selfish part of him prayed that the agency granted your request and offered you the job you passed up on in this new city. He hoped that you and him could start over in a different setting, and maybe a few years from now, run into each other again. You'd be in better places in your lives and the two of you could start over.

He knew he was hoping for too much, but oh a man can dream.

If you're moving on with someone new.

Mark was brought back to the present when he hears a loud shattering of glass. He averted his eyes towards the source of the ruckus and landed his eyes on you. He noticed how your eyes grew into large saucers when he displayed similar shocked features.

Shit.

He quickly and clumsily packed up his belongings as he waved down one of the waiters, asking for the tab. Noticing Mark's shaken composure accompanied by the glares being sent in his direction from the other side of the bar, the waiter sympathetically printed out the bill as fast as he could and didn't let out a peep when Mark underpaid about 10 bucks.

Mark rushed out of the bar, only to be caught by the sound of your voice calling out to him.

"Don't you dare run away." The voice was cold.

"Not again, Mark." It was almost shaking.

You caught up to the man. He turned around, slowly, wishing that this was all just a messed up dream, and the alcohol was only playing tricks with his mind.

Indeed, though, this was his reality. Mark remained silent, only staring at his feet as you approached him.

"Look at me," your voice was softer now, but he noticed the stern edge laced within your words. You were never one to raise your voice, not even when Mark would spew incredulous things at you during an argument. You were always calm.

Mark shifted his gaze from the ground towards your face and noticed you looked wiser. He noticed how your soft features were now more sharp. He noticed how you wore your hair differently. He noticed how you'd ditched your casual jeans and a shirt for something more business-casual. He noticed how your aura had changed into something more serious. He noticed every little change about you.

He also noticed how, beneath all the physical changes, you were still you. You still had the same stars in your eyes. You still had his favorite scent. You still had the same quip in your lip when you spoke. You still had the same smile.

You were smiling at him.

Mark finally managed to meet your eyes, and as you opened your mouth to speak, he cut you off before you could get a sound out.

"You look happier."

Your smile dropped a bit at his observation. He was right, you were happier than you were after the breakup. But you were happier when you were with him. Using other men to distract yourself from Mark worked for a while, but it was never the same.

It's been over a year, and you still missed him. You missed everything about Mark; his smile, his laugh, his posture when he was furiously typing away at his keyboard because he had an essay due in 10 minutes. You missed the way he'd sing to you at night when you woke up from a nightmare, and the way he'd pet down your hair when the two of you wake up in each other's arms after a nap.

And although you missed him, a part of you was still angry at him. Angry that he left without an explanation, and had Donghyuck be the bearer of bad news that he wanted you to be happier. That he wanted you to have a life not revolving around him and his actions.

A part of you hated how he was so selfish, and how he never looked to you for his decision. Yet the other, wiser, part of you was thankful. Thankful that he cared about you enough to let you go, cared about you enough to put your priorities above his own feelings for once. Most importantly, you were thankful that he was your first heartbreak.

Before he was the boy who broke your heart, he was a friend.

You tilt your head a bit sideways, plastered another smile and nodded in response.

"It's a process."

He smiled back, toothy grin warming your heart. "I'm glad you're doing okay."

Maybe it was the universe finally hearing Mark's wishes of starting over, or maybe it was just a mere coincidence that you ran into each other that day. But nonetheless, the encounter made him realize one thing.

"I was happier with you."

[buckyswheezes]

Cruel Summer (Pt. 1/2)

Premise: Steve was 7, Bucky was 6, and you were 4 when you became family. And it was in the summer of your last year in high school when things started to change.

Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes / What doesn't kill me makes me want you more

author's note: First of all, this did not go the way I planned it to. Second, I was wrong; this isn't one-shot but a two-shot fic. Finally, I hope you guys like it. Again, @lokisblackwidow's post made me do this. Sorry if it's different from what you expected it to be.

warning: this fic contains cursing, sexual shit, and incest. Read at your own risk

It's been 15 years since your family moved to New York to start anew. The concrete jungle, skyscrapers, and bustling broadway shows were a stark contrast to California's tropical and easy-going nature. You were too young, though, to notice such things because you were just three years old at the time and mostly spent your time confused because you haven't seen your mom in a long time.

It's only been dad and your brother Steve for weeks now, and both didn't know how to tie your hair the way you like or read those bedtime stories you loved so much. Years later, you finally realized why -she died. The next thing you knew, you have a new mom and a new brother. It's been that way since.

"How's the college application going?" Steve's gruff voice came from the ongoing Facetime.

"I haven't had my breakfast. Can I please have my breakfast first?" You replied, annoyed. You didn't want to be reminded of that first thing in the morning. You slumped down on the seat beside your mom, and she handed you a cup of freshly brewed coffee. "Thanks, mom," You muttered.

Your dad sat on the other side of the table, flipping through the day's paper, and beside him sat Bucky, stuffing his face with bacon, completely ignoring the chaos around him. The empty seat beside him was where Steve sat (when he's home, that is, which was rare nowadays), but the tablet with his huge face plastered in it was placed on the space on the table, so it felt as if you were all still having breakfast together.

"Ooh, someone's grumpy."

"I'm gonna beat your ass when you get home." You threatened.

"Well, joke's on you 'cause I'm not."

"You're not?" Mom frowned.

Steve shifted to look at her. "I took a summer course this year, Biostats. It'll help with my thesis."

"You sure you're not just fonduing with Maryland girls in the summer?"

"Shut up, Buck. You're the playboy in the family, not me."

"Alright, boys!" Your mom chastised then turned to Steve again. "Well, you take care, and if you need anything, just give us a call."

"Will do."

Steve attended Johns Hopkins University -unarguably one of the best universities in America when it comes to Medicine. He'd always wanted to be a doctor, and even though he never said it, you knew it was because of your biological mom. He could've gotten into Harvard, but like you, Steve itched to get out of New York for a change of environment. It was only Bucky who didn't want to go anywhere, and so he attended NYU.

You love New York, no doubt about that. You grew up exploring its Burroughs, and the Central Park had been a staple in your formative years, but lately, you just wanted to get away from all of it. Recently, something changed, and you convinced yourself that it was because it's your last year in high school and you will be going to college soon.

But you knew there was something else. Well, maybe it was also because you turned 18 early this year, you're legal now, and with your going to college on the other side of the coast, you were excited to have a bit of freedom. CalArts was your first choice, being into Performing Arts and all that. Now, your parents weren't painfully strict, but being the youngest and only girl in the family, they couldn't help but be a little protective.

When Steve went to Baltimore two years ago, you were quite relieved. You get it; you're his only sister, but the way he used to hover around and scare away boys grated your nerves. You were just thankful that by sophomore year, he was gone. He'd passed on the mantle to Bucky, but he didn't really care -well, not as much as Steve did.

"Dad, don't forget you're picking me up later after school. I can't be late for my rehearsal." You reminded. Across the table, your old man's jaw dropped.

"I'm sorry, honey, was that today?"

"Uhh yeah, you forgot already?"

"Sorry, it slipped my mind, honey. How about you pick her up, Buck?" He turned to your step-brother.

"What?!" You shrieked in unison.

"I can't. I have stuff to do." He whined. You roll your eyes at his lame excuse.

"No, it's fine. I'll just ask Peter to come with me."

"Who's he, your new boyfriend?" Bucky spat.

You glared at him across the table. "No, he's not. I don't even have a boyfriend; you and Steve made sure of that." You downed the last of your coffee before shooting daggers at him once more. "Don't pick me up. Go do your stuff."

"Bucky…" It was mom's turn to speak.

"Fine!" He grumbled.

————

"Bye, Peter. See you around!" You stood up from the bench where you and your friend sat as soon as you saw Bucky drove up the school's entrance.

You don't know what your step-brother's problem was, but lately, he'd been nothing but irritable and annoyed, especially with your presence. You didn't wait for him to call you, so you jogged as quickly as you could across the schoolyard, silently climbing on the passenger seat as soon you reached where he pulled over.

You cast a wary glance at him; he didn't speak to you since you got on. He didn't even acknowledge your presence. His jaw was set, and he was intent on ignoring you, it seems, for the duration of the ride.

You and Bucky weren't always like this. You two were close; you played a lot when you were kids, you built forts, you wrestled, you chased each other with whatever gooey stuff you put your little hands on. Over the years, he became distant. You'd started to feel distant when Bucky and Steve entered junior high -you just couldn't relate to the stuff they talk about anymore. You're still very close with Steve, but with Bucky, he just drifted further away, especially when you entered high school. Bucky was only two years ahead, so you always saw him around during your freshman year. He was very popular, it seems. Senior girls used to befriend you in hopes of getting close to your step-brother.

You couldn't take it any more of his animosity, so you fully faced him, shifting in your seat. "Have I done something wrong, Buck?"

He looked at you incredulously for a second before turning his attention back on the road.

Annoyed at his lack of response, you hit his shoulder with your fist.

"What the hell y/n! I'm driving. Do you want us to die?!" He growled.

You retreated back to your seat, feeling remorseful for a second. Only for a second, then you burst out crying. "I hate you! I wish you're not my brother!"

You heard him chuckle, but he obviously wasn't amused. "Yeah, wish you weren't my sister too."

———

Bucky was in his last year in high school when he noticed it. He was waiting outside the school library because you said you needed to borrow a book before the two of you go home.

When Steve went off to college, he promised he'd look after you. He noticed firsthand how guys from all grade levels flock to you, hoping they'd catch your attention. Now, Bucky knew what these guys really want, and that's to get in your pants. Over his dead body would he allow that to transpire. So you two always walked home together.

He craned his neck to peek through the giant doors, wondering what's taking you long when he saw you chatting with a guy. His brows furrowed while his lips formed a thin, grim line.

Your smile reached your ears, your eyes glistened in obvious delight, and your cheeks flushed. Your shy gaze was directed at the guy in front of you.

Bucky frowns even more, when the guy ruffled your hair, a gesture that only he has the right to do (he believes). He felt a vein in his head pop in irritation. He felt like punching someone.

"Hey, Buck, let's go!" You chimed, pulling him out of his murderous thoughts.

"Who were you talking to?"

"Oh, that's Stephen. A junior in the dance club." You almost giggled.

"Huh." He scoffed.

The next time he noticed it happen was when he stayed around to watch your cheer dance rehearsals. Your skimpy cheerleader outfit didn't leave much to the imagination; that's why he decided to hover around, ready to pounce on whoever looked at you the funny.

Bucky looked away for a second to glance at his phone when screams filled the schoolyard. The next thing he knew, you were in the air -free-falling. He ran as fast as his feet could take him to catch you, his heart pounding in his ears. Fortunately, someone was there to catch you before you hit the ground.

You fell on top of the guy -Stephen. He gritted his teeth, half-annoyed, half-grateful at the piece of shit. He saw how you stayed on top of him for a few seconds more; furiously blushing. The moment he reached you, Bucky yanked you up and from the guy's body.

"You okay?" He fussed, searching your body for any sign of injury.

"I'm fine, Buck. Stephen caught me." You bit your lip as you shyly looked back at the guy. "Umm, thanks again."

"Yeah, thanks, man," Bucky grumbled, pulling you away from the group.

The way your body rested on another guy just didn't sit well with him. Once again, he felt like punching someone, and that someone is Stephen. He hated the way the guy was always around you. Bucky was sure what his motive was, and he'll never let him get it.

"I want ice cream." You muttered later that afternoon on your way home.

Bucky scoffed at your request. "What are you, five?"

You stopped walking and faced him, a pout on your lips. "Steve always buys me ice cream."

"Well, I'm not Steve."

"Please, I fell off someone's shoulder and almost hit my head. What if I died?"

"What has that got to do with ice cream?"

"I hate you. You're the worst brother, ever."

Bucky chuckled at your antics; he knew you didn't mean it. You just say that to get what you want because when you were kids, Steve and he used to compete for the Best Brother Award. "Fine." He conceded with a smile. He grabbed your grabbed, and you both ran to the nearest ice cream parlor, ordering one big bowl of banana split sundae and stuffing your faces.

Bucky's whole body tensed when your moans filled your ears. He didn't mind it back then, you were young and innocent, but now, Bucky couldn't ignore the sound spilling from your mouth. Sweat dripped down his nape.

This isn't right.

Your moans seem to ring louder in his ears. The way you licked your spoon clean was not helping his situation either. Bucky thinks about the thin line between sanity and insanity when the chocolate syrup trickled from your lips down to your chin until it reached the supple skin of your neck.

"I need to go to the bathroom." He muttered and hastily jolted from his seat, scrambling away from you. Bucky has a growing problem inside his pants, and he needs to take care of it.

Stop this, Bucky, you need to stop this! His mind chastised while his hands unbuckled his belt. You shouldn't feel this… this way towards her. He's your step-sister. It's wrong.

As soon as he reached his release, he made up his mind. He'll stay away from you; kinda impossible since you both live in the same house, but he'll try his best for both your sakes.

Bucky stopped waiting for you after school. He stopped watching your rehearsals. He stopped helping you with your Math home works and, much to your mom's surprise, he started watching evening dramas with her in the living room every night.

So to answer your question, the one you shot at him when he picked you up from school that day. Yes, you did something wrong.

You grew up. And it's been hard for him to see you as his step-sister ever since.

——————

The last day of school finally rolled in, and you intended to enjoy summer before you start college. What you didn't see coming, though, was being left alone with Bucky for one whole week because your parents are going on a cruise.

"Can't I come with you?" You pleaded, eyes wide as you hauled your mom's baggage into the back of the taxi.

"Sorry, honey. Promise, we'll be back as soon as we can." She replied before giving you a hug.

"Don't leave me here. Bucky's gonna bully me all week."

"He won't, right Bucky?" She raised a brow at him, who stood with his arms crossed, looking annoyed.

"Try not to destroy the house while we're away." Was their final reminder before they went on their way.

Bucky was the first one to get back inside the house. Dread ate up your insides; you two haven't spoken since the car ride. You decided once and for all to get things straight with him. So you marched inside about five minutes later.

Bucky heard you barge in his room, but he remained still -eyes closed and pretending to be asleep. He jolted up when you unceremoniously hit his stomach with a pillow.

"What the hell, y/n?!" He snarled, clearly pissed at your assault.

Your nose flared at his attitude. "What is your problem, James Barnes?" You growled in return.

"Am I the one with a problem here?"

"Oh, come on! You know what I mean!"

Bucky pushed past you; you trailed behind, following his figure towards the living room. He needed to get away from you, fast. It irked him that you wouldn't stay the fuck out of his way. You'd even come and gone into his room. Bucky couldn't take it; he'd go crazy.

"Why are you avoiding me? Bucky!… Bucky! Answer me, damn it!"

"I don't know what you're talking about, y/n. So, leave me alone." He was about to reach the door when you threw yourself in front of it, barring his way out. "Move."

"NO! You're not going anywhere until you tell me what's wrong." You crossed your arms, planting your feet firmly on the floor. You weren't gonna let this day end without knowing why Bucky acts the way he does. If it was something that you did, then you'd wholeheartedly make it right, but you'll never know if he keeps on brushing you off. So, here you are.

"Y/n, move." Bucky hissed menacingly."

"No, Bucky." You replied in the same manner.

After your brief glaring contest, Bucky finally looked away, sighing in defeat. "Fine. Something's not right, okay? But it's not you, it's… it's… me, so let me handle this myself."

You relaxed and took a step closer to him. "Can't you tell me? I might be able to help."

Bucky looked away. How could he possibly tell you that he's harboring un-brotherly feelings towards you -his step-sister. How could he possibly tell you that you turn him on, that he's having inappropriate thoughts about you for a year now? How could he possibly tell you that he might be falling in love with you?

All those times you spent together when Steve was gone. The times you intently and genuinely listened to his adolescent problems. The times you cheered for him when he played football in high school. You were his number one fan. You were so different from the others, and he hated how it made him look at you differently. He hated when you boys started coming into your life. He always believed that you had a special place in your heart for him, but now he feared that anyone might snatch that place from him. You were his best girl.

Bucky grimaced at his realization. He finally admitted to himself that he is, indeed, falling in love with you. He felt angry at himself. How could he let this happen? He thought he was in control of his emotions.

"Eventually, I'll tell you. But not now." He said softly, hoping you'd let him go.

But you were persistent. "No, Bucky. I want you to tell me now." You demanded.

"Y/n," He growled loudly this time. "Move out of my way!"

"I won't until you tell me."

"Move!"

"Just tell me!"

Bucky's resolve broke. The sirens in his mind went off, but he ignored them as he strode towards you intently. He smirked when your bravado faltered before vanishing completely when he pushed you against the door; your bodies pressed together, making sure you could feel the tent growing against his pants.

Your eyes widened in shock. "Wha-"

"You wanna know why? Huh," He asked through gritted teeth, his face hovered dangerously close to yours that you could feel the hot breath coming through his nose. Bucky didn't give you time to answer because he roughly crashed his lips towards yours. He wasted no time shoving his tongue inside your mouth.

Bucky could feel your hands against his chest, pushing him away. He could hear the muffled pleas of protest as he relentlessly assaulted your mouth. His lips left yours only to find themselves on your neck, sucking on your skin.

"Bu.. Bucky.. stop.. s-s-top." Tears cascaded down your cheeks, but you were frozen in spot, unable to wipe them away.

But Bucky ignored your appeal. He continued sucking your skin while his hands traveled your side, feeling you up. When he couldn't get enough of you, he bit the skin on your shoulder.

You yelped in pain. "Stop! Stop, get off me!"

Still, Bucky did not listen. Dissatisfied with his actions, he dragged and threw you towards the couch; he straddled over you, your hands pinned on the cushion. You squirmed beneath him, trying to escape his hold.

Bucky pulled your shirt up and found his lips back on your skin again; this time, he latched on your erect nipple and sucked as if his life depended on it. When he was done abusing both your buds, he moved to kiss your lips again, but your tear-stricken face met his eyes.

Bucky went stiff as a board, and you used that opportunity to push him, backing off as far as you can from him. Your loud sobs filled the house as you sank to a pool at your feet, hugging your knees to yourself.

You couldn't believe what your step-brother had done. Your mind couldn't begin to fathom his actions.

Bucky sat motionless, his horror-struck at his deed. He bit back the long line of profanities that ran inside his head as he stared dumbfounded at your crumpled figure.

A painful pang of guilt washed over him like a tidal wave. What had he done?

"Y/n.. I-I'm… I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He said and scrambled out of the house.

Bucky didn't come home for three days while you spent it in a daze.

Bucky kissed you; he put his tongue inside your mouth. He touched you in your private parts. He sucked on your nipple while you lay beneath him. He held you like a lover would.

But he was your brother; why would he do that?

The sound of the front door opening pulled you out from your thoughts. Your gaze met Bucky's; he had dark circles around his eyes, and you wondered briefly whose house he crashed when he didn't come home.

"Bucky…" You stood from the couch and approached him.

Bucky liked that about you. You were brave and face things head-on; you're not one to back down, just cause you were scared. But he doesn't think he could handle you right now, not after what he's done. He walked past you, intent on ignoring you.

"After what you did, I at least deserve to know the truth, don't you think?"

Your words hit home. You were right; you deserved at least that much. Sighing, he turned back and sat down on the couch.

"I know this is downright wrong, but I'm in love with you, y/n," Bucky confessed softly, and he heard your small gasp.

"But, we're… I'm your sister."

"step-sister," He corrected. "I can't help it. I love you more than a step-brother could love his step-sister. I love you as a woman y/n. I tried to stop it, but it was hard."

You deserved to know the truth no matter how disgusting, condemning, or how sinful it was.

"I am still trying." Bucky continued, and this time, he gave you a firm look. "And I need, need you to help me."

Your heart skipped a beat. "What do you want me to do, Buck?"

"Stay away from me."

You pulled back in shock. "But-"

"No buts!" He hissed. "Can't you see how hard this is for me? You think it's easy to stay away from you when I love you?" He pleaded. "After this, I want you to stay away, don't talk to me unless it's a life or death situation."

"Mom and dad will notice."

"Then don't make them notice." He got up and approached you, then reached for your hand, clasping them together. "Please, y/n, you have to."

With a heavy heart, you nodded. Bucky moved and gave you a quick peck on the forehead, and it felt like goodbye.

Weeks quickly flew by, fortunately for the both of you, your parents didn't notice a thing. You bickered like you used to during breakfast, but both of you knew that it was forced. When they weren't around, which was much since both of them worked, you barely talked to each other and were barely left alone in the house.

Bucky spent most of his time playing basketball -his new hobby to get his mind off you. He's always gone during weekends playing with his college friend Sam Wilson. You saw the guy once when Bucky invited him to dinner with your family. After that, Sam can frequently be seen in the house. Your parents were cool with it since Steve didn't come home for summer.

One afternoon, Sam was there again; you could hear their banter all the way up to your room. However, what really bothered you though was the presence of a woman -Sharon. She's Bucky and Sam's classmate in one of their class, and along with Sam, she started hanging out at your house.

You groaned, annoyed. You couldn't focus on the application essay you were supposed to write with that woman's shrill voice downstairs. You slammed your fist against your study table, intent on giving the three a piece of your mind. You stood up and marched downstairs, catching their attention.

Sharon sat between Sam and Bucky, and they were pretty occupied with a mobile game before you came.

"Can you guys keep it down? You're not the only people in the house."

"Oops, sorry, y/n." Sharon squeaked.

"We'll keep it down," Sam promised.

You just nodded before glaring at Bucky, who did not even acknowledge your presence. You grumbled something before storming back to your room, slamming the door close.

Sharon and Sam ended up having dinner with them again. With Sharon seated beside Bucky, again. Your mom told them to drop by again. And, Bucky walked Sharon home, again.

And you were getting tired of this. You wanted to help Bucky, but you can't just sit back and watch him replace you with someone else. No, you can't allow it. This has to stop.

You waited for Bucky to come home; you were in his room sitting on his bed with a determined look on your face.

As soon as Bucky stepped inside, he was shoved against the door, making it slam close. He winced at the pain on his back, but he was startled and shocked when he felt your lips connect with his in a searing kiss. His first instinct was to push you away, but his desire got the better of him. His eyes slipped close, and he kissed you back passionately.

Bucky's thoughts were in a haze as both your lips danced with each other. It didn't take long for him to invade the warmth of your mouth, fingers tangling themselves into your hair, while your hands curled around the front of his shirt, trapped between your heated bodies.

"Why," He moaned before pulling away.

Your ragged breaths filled the room; you looked at him with glistening eyes. "I don't care anymore, Bucky. I don't want to lose you. I don't want to be replaced by Sam or Sharon or anyone else." A tear escaped your eye, and it cascaded down your cheek.

Bucky leaned down and kissed it away, the salty taste lingering in his tongue.

"I want you back, Bucky."

Bucky felt a painful tug on his heart at the sight. He loves you, but he was also the one making you cry. He cannot bear the thought of hurting you. He caressed your cheek and gazed at you lovingly, longingly.

"You're making this hard for me, y/n. For the both of us."

You shook your head once more and pulled his face close to yours. "I don't care anymore, James Barnes. Love me any way you want, just don't… don't leave me again."

Bucky froze at your words. He pulled away then grasped both your shoulders. "Y/n, you don't know what you're saying."

"I do. I'm not a child anymore. I want how we used to be; if accepting your love could get things back to the way it was, I accept it.

Bucky shook his head. "No,…no y/n, nothing will ever be the same if you let me love you the way I want to."

Your face visibly fell at his words. Feeling hopeless, you asked. "Why?"

"Why?" Bucky asked back softly. "Because unlike then, I'll kiss you more like this…" He started and gave you a sensual kiss on the lips. "I'll hold your hand like this…" His hand went to yours, and he intertwined your fingers.

"We used to do that when we were kids."

Bucky just hummed in response. "And I'll pull you close to me like this…" He continued and did just as he said. He pulled you against his heated body and inhaled your scent. "And you'll always ignite that burning feeling inside me, y/n. So, unless you get used to these things, I will not let you do this."

"But we used to do some of those."

"It's going to be a lot different now."

"I don't care. I'm used to it. In fact, I miss it. Don't ever leave me again, Bucky, please. I love you so much."

Bucky's eyes widened in surprise. He could feel the rapid beating of your heart against his. He pulled you in once more for a passionate kiss.

"I love you too, y/n. You don't know how much you make me happy."

[mallowstep]

Questions about the bands/loner culture because I'm loving this AU already!

Is it normal for them to visit family that have, say, decided to become housekeepers or denizens in the city/elsewhere during the circuit? What is the interpersonal/social structure of an individual band like? What sort of names do bands call themselves, & is it a common/widespread knowledge, or more of a you-know-them-if-youve-met-them kind of thing? Also, when queens of different groups have kitted, is there ever any quarreling between them since toms tend to be threatening/violent toward kits that are not their own? Are there any bands who are sworn enemies or otherwise hostile toward each other, & how are these conflicts sorted out? Are new bands only started by mates, or could one be started by close friends, or littermates, for example? Do circuits ever change after they've been settled? Sorry if any of my wording is unclear, and for all the questions at once, I'm just so curious!

no no thank u so much for asking, do not apologize <3

is it normal to visit (non-wandering) kin?

as long as they live on the circuit! and most kin who leave a band are going to settle within visiting range of the circuit.

kin is really important to wanderers. let's say, hypothetically, lion stays in thunderclan, and holly and jay return to leaf and crow. (i'm not saying that's what's going to happen, to be clear.)

lion is going to bring his kits to meet with his kin every year when they're near clan territory, because they're going to want to meet them.

some cats are going to settle outside of visiting radius and not have any interest in making the yearly/biannual/what-have-you trip to meet with kin, and some leave the band because they don't want to be with their kin. sometimes circuits change, and the kin ties aren't strong enough, etc.

but in general, wanderers make a big effort to stay in touch.

what is the social structure of a band?

depends on the size of the band, the length of the circuit, and the band's history.

for small, kin-based bands (like leafcrow, rosemary&co), bands are, well, familial in structure. younger cats are expected to listen to older cats, but the general structure is very egalitarian.

(in general, bands are egalitarian, but i digress.)

the larger a band gets, the more formal things get, i suppose?

like, okay, if you have 5 cats, you don't really need to worry about distributing prey. if you have 20 cats, well, maybe you need to manage that.

one reason a cat might not get along with a band is because of the communal aspect of it. even though wanderers are generally accepting, that doesn't mean they're perfect. not everyone is cut out for that kind of mutual living structure, and sometimes it can be a toxic environment.

(for example, if one cat is bullying another, the band's response might lean towards "both sides reconciling," which isn't, like, a great response. and you're in a limited environment with very few cats. it happens, and unfortunately, the usual result is the harassed party leaving the band.)

what do bands call themselves and each other?

while some bands have names (like the sisters), most consider themselves a family. so if they absolutely need to identify themselves with some kind of title, it's going to be affiliated with the leader. leaf's family, rosemary's family, etc.

larger bands are more likely to have a title, naturally. these tend to be short, and associated with the founding. but i'd actually imagine there might be multiple groups that call themselves the sisters.

and this isn't common knowledge. you know who the bands you cross are, and you might hear about the bands they cross, but you don't know further than that.

so like. leaf and crow run into a band they cross on the way to the clan territory. let's say...heather.

heather might tell leaf, "oh, i heard sheep, you know, red's sheep, was staying in the old house by the river, the one with the dogs."

leaf can then pass that knowledge on to red when she sees her in the...summer? i'm not sure when they meet. but heather might not know red personally, just has met sheep, and sheep commented on red, and heather passes the news on so that leaf can pass it on.

did that make sense?

i hope that made sense.

(unrelated, but yes, you usually are going to introduce yourself as such. "leaf's holly, jay, and lion" etc.)

typically, though, bands refer to each other by where and when they cross. yes, that does make it very hard to know who they're talking about when you interact with different circuits. wanderers don't really care.

they don't see themselves as having overarching structure. there is no central meeting: yes, multiple bands do winter in the city, but plenty don't. there are like, multiple warm places.

what happens when multiple queens (in different bands) kit in the same place?

it depends. usually, they try to make their camp far away from each other. it doesn't even have to be far on human terms: a mile is plenty. maybe even less, depending on the type of territory.

and yes, this is one of the main causes of fighting between bands. they try to avoid the situation, but queens are very territorial. toms usually can't even get close enough to feel violent.

(leaf, being raised a clan cat, feels more comfortable around outside toms. but glass tries to stay out of the barn when the kits are young.)

the first step at resolution is for the leaders to negotiate. if a peaceful resolution can't be raised, then there will be a lot of posturing. cats are cowards, they don't want to actually fight.

an actual fight is the worst case scenario, and that leads into the next question.

are there feuds between bands, and how do those work?

there are feuds and grudges, but...they're usually pretty weak. see, if you cross with a band you don't get along with, it's fairly easy to avoid them.

more common is grudges built up over the winter, for bands who stay in the city, and feuds with colonies that take issue with the bands crossing their territory.

that said, if two bands come to a fight, they're going to have bad blood for a long time. wanderers tell stories, after all.

what's basically going to happen is that they're going to snap at each other about who should have to change their circuit every time they cross, and grumble about it before and after.

other bands are going to stay out of it. hard.

because they're a peaceful people. (cat?)

the feud is Bad, you see. and wanderers are not great at solving problems. they just want everyone to get along and smooth over the problem without actually resolving it. the problem is, when bands actually feud, they're not feuding for petty reasons.

now. now. the other thing that does happen is.

kits in the city/other gathering places. (i focus on the city + winter because that's where leaf and crow are, but there are other places.)

okay, so there's this passage in the beginning of the golden compass about the political structure of the kids and their colleges, and i cannot possibly express what an impact that has had on me.

but. kits feud like hell. they're in a relatively tight space for two or three moons, they have petty fights and wars and alliances and all sorts of drama.

these are usually related to their bands (e.g., rosemary and leaf are close bands), but not always. littermates stick together.

they even can get into "banding together in the face of a common enemy" if like, full-time city cat kits decide to cause trouble.

these don't usually last year to year, but they can.

fadslj winter in the city is the closest thing wanderers have to any kind of reunion moment, and it's like. it's quite territorial, honestly. bands tend to stick in their Area. by their nature, wanderers aren't interested in big groups and setting down roots. so they tend to keep to themselves more than usual.

after all, seeing family friends you see every year is different from going on a long vacation for two months or so with them.

how are new bands started?

while most new bands are started by mates, it's not the only way for them to get started.

i suppose, actually. bands aren't started by mates. a splinter group is usually pushed to break off by a pair of mates.

the "standard" formula is as such:

cat 1 from band A becomes mates with cat 2 from band B. cat 2 joins band A. cat 1 is expecting, and gets ready to nest, but tells the rest of the band to keep moving. other cats, typically close friends or littermates, stay.

the other standard formula is for littermates to form a band during their year voyage. i'd say it's maybe 60 way one, 30 way two, and 10 other.

(that said, it's usually during their year voyage that cats start to think about breaking off.)

there's no wrong reason to form a splinter band, it's just that, unless kits are involved, most splinter bands are going to function more as like. an auxiliary group that weaves in and out of the other circuit.

wanderers are creatures of habit.

do circuits ever change?

they change a lot in small ways. wanderers tend to make the same detours every trip, which is why older bands tend to have longer circuits. and older bands tend to be larger. hence larger = longer.

they can also change suddenly if something happens. like, say, a territory dispute during a nesting time (when a band settles down for a queen to kit), or a colony getting testy (like in tallstar's revenge, and squirrelflight's hope).

wanderers tend not to make major changes to their circuit (for no strong reason) after they're established, but it does happen.

the other thing is that a there-and-back circuit can flip into a loop circuit, or vice versa. basically, a there-and-back circuit starts to take a path on the "other side" of their territory, which widens over time, until they're in a loop.

in the other direction, the loop slowly narrows until it's a flat line.

all sorts of things can happen here, from forming cul-de-saqs to making detours to see kin. the one thing that doesn't happen often is "taking a shortcut." wanderers usually add to their circuit. they don't have anywhere to be, after all.

if i missed something, let me know! thank you for the questions, this was a lot of fun to answer.

[simons-calling-the-127-squad]

Blindsided - Ten

Credit to original owners of the images.

GN Tattoo artist reader x customer Ten

Warnings: Cursing, uh needles (tattoos and piercings)

Soulmate Au: you can only see the color of your soulmate's eyes until you meet them.

"Dude, I'm sorry, but I have a policy. I can't tattoo you if you're under the influence", you told him, your arms crossed and a chuckled falling passed your lips.

"This is the sixth shop we've been to babe. Let's just go home", his boyfriend said, tugging at his sleeve. The intoxicated boy leaned into the embrace of his boyfriend and pouted.

"I'm so sorry about him", the latter apologized before pulling him out the doors. You instantly broke down in laughter once they were out the doors. Your arms leaning onto the counter and your head lowering to rest in them as you tried to withhold your giggles. Honestly drunk college kids coming with ridiculous requests was one of your favorite things about the job. But the worst thing about the job was only being able to do colorless tattoos, due to the fact you had yet to meet your soulmate. Meaning you could only see the color brown, which definitely makes being a tattoo artist a bit tricky, that's why you stick to piercings the most.

"Another stupid one?" Y/B/F asked as they walked out of their room, leaning their back against the counter to look down at your hunched form.

"Twerking Shrek backpiece", was all you could utter before laughing again. Y/B/F let out a much smaller and shorter laugh at not only the request, but your reaction as well. Soon after Y/B/F retreated back to their room. You were beginning to regain composure when the bell rang, signalling a new customer. You raised your head and pushed your hair back into place as you looked at the new faces. Two males had just walked in. The first was a tall, but kind looking guy. He smiled as he walked to the counter, the other boy close behind due to being significantly shorter.

"What can I do for ya?" Your arms instantly crossed, hoping they were actually sober.

"I was hoping to get my septum done", the tall one said.

"That all you guys need?"

"I was wanting to get my tongue pierced." The shorter said.

"Alright, I'm gonna need to see your IDs' to prove you're old enough to not need parental consent", you informed them. Y/B/F had come out after hearing you speak with the customer's. They took a look at the shorter male's you looked at the taller one's. You both asked them questions to see if it matched what the card said, and they answered correctly. You and Y/B/F nodded at each other to signal they were both good.

"Do you guys have a preference of who does which?" Y/B/F asked.

"I don't care. Ten?" The taller one turned to shorter one. Your eyes followed, first landing on his hair, a brown. Then down to his eyes, at the same moment he looked into yours as well. You could feel the color enter your eyes and how it moved to shade the world in different hues and tints. The sudden burst caused you to stumble back and blink.

"Y/N you good?" Y/B/F asked, moving to help you stand.

"Wait a second…" Johnny said, he too had moved to help Ten. You groaned, your head beginning to throb with the sudden intake of so many new colors.

"Why the fuck did nobody mention how much of a headache this was?" Ten asked, his voice slightly strained.

"Let's get you some ibuprofen bud", Johnny told him. Y/B/F assisted you to the couch, while Johnny did the same with Ten. Y/B/F ran to get the medicine, handing you one and your water before turning to Ten and doing the same. Johnny and Y/B/F went in their room to allow the environment to be quieter, which would also help with the headache. Soon enough it started kicking in and you found the new colors to be more bearable than before.

"People fail to mention how that hurts like hell", you groaned. Ten laughing quietly in response.

"Maybe that piercing will have to wait", he said. Lifting his head slightly to look at you.

"Yeah that's probably the best choice for us both."

Johnny came out a few moments later, paying Y/B/F for their work before asking Ten if he was ready to leave. He made sure to exchange numbers with you before walking out of the shop. Y/B/F told you to go lay down in the back and you nodded, just as you were sitting down on the couch back there your phone dinged. You pulled it out and saw a text from Ten, he was rescheduling and asking about tattoos, he wanted his first one in color soon.

---

It has been a week since you met Ten, and he was finally coming in for his tattoo and piercing. Y/B/F did his tongue piercing while you got the equipment ready to tattoo him.

"You like it?" They questioned, Ten nodded in response upon looking in the mirror at it.

"Alrighty then. I'll be in my station if you need me", they said, throwing their gloves in the trash as they walked by.

"You sure you want me to do the tat?" You asked as you sat down and began prepping.

"Of course I do. In fact I want you to do the rest of mine from now on", he winked at you.

"I'd love to be your only tattoo artist from now on", you laughed and began. He had decided to get one matching yours, Peter Pan flying with Darlings. It would be on a colorful background with the actual characters black and was on his left shoulder. You talked during the entire time, mainly about how this was an amazing first date and thoughts on what to order for dinner later (you both decided on pizza.) You were impressed with how well it turned out, seeing the colors dance on his should made you realize how much you needed to add some more colorful ink to your body.

"Be honest", you ordered as you titled the mirror towards him. His eyes widened and a smile pulled his lips up.

"I love it. It's the greatest thing I could ask for. It's in color, it matches yours, you did it. It'll be a constant reminder that I've found you", he rambled, his eyes drifting to your own. It was cheesy, but it was so adorable.

---

Ten held up to his promise, he never went to another tattoo shop again, and sent all of his friends your way. Your eyes couldn't help but to move to a certain finger, where most people had a ring sitting on it. But you and Ten agreed on tattooing it instead. You couldn't wait to see what else the two of you created together.

[lizzybeth1986]

I love the code name, and I'll hopefully remember to sign my messages with it from now on. I'm actually quite flattered that I've earned one, so ty for that. I somehow came up with 2 more questions, most likely to turn into essays, for you. 1 should be more lighthearted than the other, so I'm gonna start heavy if ya don't mind xD. You've touched briefly on how families affect the courtly ladies, so I wanted to see your take on how families have shaped the people at court. Have fun!-CL anon :D

You come up with such amazing questions, CL anon! How do you do it! 😁

So...hmm...how families shape the people in court. That's a pretty loaded question! And I mean "loaded" in the sense that when we're talking about "family" in an environment like this, we're also talking about the larger society they inhabit and what values from that society these parents were busy instilling in these children.

Sometimes the struggle I have with theorizing on these things, is that Book 1 starts out with very different ideas of what modern Cordonian society is supposed to be like, but by Book 3 or Book 4 they have developed other ideas that contradict it...or that you have to really work around to make sense of. For instance, the entire idea of open relationships being accepted in Cordonia that crops up conveniently in Book 2 just so the MC can sleep with whoever she wants after she's gotten engaged...yet the same society has such a strong disapproval of PDA that you can lose points with the general public for even joking about being intimate with someone (can these two things happen in the same space? Of course!! But that point from Book 2 does make the overall stuffy atmosphere in Book 1 about displaying affection look a little confusing, you have to admit). So...making sense of these things with the way the books have changed over the series is challenging, but doable.

The one thing that gets clearer and clearer as the story progresses...is that most noble children seem to grow into an awareness from a younger age itself that their public life should not reflect their private ones. Another is that, in the political climate of the time - they may not understand everything that is going on...but their parents have inadvertently taught them to grow up in fear (a legitimate fear, considering the threats at the time). I'll start with the palace, then move to the duchies. (I won't include Drake and Hana much in this, as Drake's family seemed to operate very differently - and honestly we know way more about his American roots than his Cordonian ones - and Hana grew up in another country...though there will be a short paragraph about her towards the end).

--

Liam

Liam grew up in the palace, the second son and younger brother to the royal heir, but you can tell there were things he had to learn pretty early on in his childhood. Things like compromise. Things like weighing what was more important to the country at a time when many children should be caring about their own needs.

It's not a very easy life, Liam's. His mother was murdered when he was still a young boy. His father often neglected him (remember the Eiffel Tower sequence where he justifies Constantine breaking a promise to visit the landmark with him, by recognizing that his father had bigger responsibilities as King?) and expected a great deal from him even at an early age (I mean...forcing an eight year old into hours of diplomacy meetings for three whole weeks??). And while race is never really mentioned in the books, the subtext is there that Eleanor and Liam possibly might have had to work harder for approval from the court than, say, Leo.

Added to this is the entry of Regina later on, after Eleanor's death. I feel like some aspects of her are based on Queen Elizabeth II - especially the way she advocates for stoicism in Book 1 (which is why she is so hard on herself after Constantine's death, in Book 3). Every move of hers is consciously planned and measured so that only certain aspects of herself will be visible to the general public, and I do think Liam draws a little bit on that with his own public image as well. This can be advantageous, because that means someone like Regina (and Liam) will be in control of their image. Only what they want to show, is shown. But it does mean that they have to weigh anything and everything they do with particular care.

In the "wedding advice" scene in Book 3, Liam speaks of how - even if they did have a conflict - Constantine and Regina would always show a publicly united front (and we see elements of that in the aftermath of the MC's scandal. Regina doesn't openly disagree with Constantine's actions, but she does adopt countermeasures because she sees a bigger picture that Constantine isn't willing to see). The family as a whole seems to be very image conscious (and they would be! The royals will be subject to way more scrutiny from the press and the public than most children, so parents will do whatever they can to protect those children from the worst aspects of it) and have to keep in mind that even their slightest reactions in public could have consequences. You see this pretty clearly in the way Liam handles the chaos at the Coronation Ball. He does what he has to, to calm the court down even though he is personally in turmoil - and we see how much turmoil he is in right after he has made his way to the MC's room.

This might be more extensive than most of the other characters, most coz he is an LI and some of his arc was supposed to revolve around being a different man from his father (they...dropped the ball on that one in Book 3).

Maxwell

To me, at least in the beginning, the Beaumonts were supposed to represent two extremes in one House. Propriety is extremely important, and you see this clearly in the way Bertrand speaks and acts and even thinks. But at the same time, their space is also a space for the nobility to let loose and go wild, as one can see from their Beaumont Bashes. These two extremes are represented pretty accurately in both Bertrand and Maxwell, and in a limited way in their parents as well.

Barthelemy expects a great deal out of his sons (even though he isn't exactly the best at meeting expectations himself. In that way he reminds me a little of Sebastian Delacroix's father from The Junior) and requires that they keep the honour of Beaumont House first. But the mother...even though we never actually meet her or even know her name (a pity)...we do know that she made people relaxed and comfortable around her, and wanted her younger boy to be happy with who he was. In Maxwell's wedding advice, he speaks of the importance of laughter - how his mother made his serious-looking father laugh and that was the most enduring image he had of their relationship.

But it's not like the family wasn't prey to the tense political climate that was there in the country when the boys were younger. For instance, Maxwell's fear of carousels is deeply rooted in his own family's fears of their children getting targeted - because he tells us "I was only three, I had no idea what was going on...And because our parents had spent so much time trying to warn us about dangers, I thought I was going to get murdered". I mean...imagine being three and having those thoughts!! I think that kind of insight should give us pause, because it does direct us to how an unstable political climate can bleed its way into the personal life or people, of their families and children.

I do wonder what implications and impact the discussions between Bartie Sr and Godfrey have on the family, though. Because if most of the fandom is right about what those two were planning, I see Bertrand and Madeleine as the people who will correct the wrongs of their parents in their support of the Crown, much in the way Olivia was last book.

Kiara

Kiki's family is actually my favourite of the lot, and we can see how she developed her skills in an environment that was supportive, and vibrant with challenges and creative stimulation. It's clear that she is one of the few people who really thrived in her family environment. Nothing was really forced on her: learning languages, and mock-treaties, and diplomacy were all things she had an aptitude for, so she went for them. And I'm guessing given the speed at which the book had Hakim and Joelle accept Zeke's decision (which could be retconning for all we know, but I do think it doesn't jar with their characterization until that point)...had Zeke opened up to them earlier, they would have figured out a way without the MC or Penelope having to convince him to open up in the first place.

One thing that I loved about Kiara's family arc was that if the MC tried to sass her about whether "everything in your family is a negotiation", or tried to cast Kiara and her family into this bland, staid stereotype of "negotiators who have no personal connection as a family", Kiki would shut that nonsense down. Every single time. She would establish that these are things important and personal to the family, and make it clear that the MC is no one to judge how they interact as a family.

Hakim and Joelle are my favourite older couple in the series, honestly. We're told they met and fell in love in college, and that their political views align more with Liam's than they do with Constantine's. In fact Liam at one point even tells us that Joelle was "the kind of person King Fabian would have approved of", and she speaks the same language about how it isn't merely enough for the country to be safe - it needs to thrive as well.

Hakim and Joelle are very different people, and in her wedding advice Kiara tells us they "delight in their differences". This is especially apparent in a fail play, where Hakim plans to go to the wedding, and Joelle winds up going to Switzerland. There's plenty of banter between them beforehand about their different ways of thinking, but expressing the same delight.

If there is only one flaw, it's in the writers - because in their mad rush to make Kiara's trauma look like it didn't matter in Castelserraillian, everyone was made to look as if they didn't care...including her parents. Which is bizarre coz the entire reason Hakim was going to leave in the first place was the fact that his daughter suffered in that attack! They never let Joelle mention anything about what Kiara went through, up until the end where she asks us if we took care of Kiara during the tour (and we are the fucking lowlifes here who didn't put the effort to, so Kiara ends up having to lie through her teeth that we "had my back").

I do see Kiara having a particular idea of "strength" that she holds everyone up to, including herself. The whole reason she even agrees with us when we manipulate/emotionally blackmail her into coming for the wedding, is because she's ashamed of herself. She wants to handle her trauma the way she handled everything else, and finds it impossible. I don't see anything that proves this is something she picked up from her family, because even while diplomatic, Hakim is open about his feelings when upset (eg. Constantine) and Joelle is expressive as well. It probably might be more of something she has imbibed in court, and in the overall culture of Cordonia itself. But the fact that the writers made sure she had support from no one, not even her family, up until readers raised questions....that is bizarre, and pretty disgusting.

But other than that, the family is interesting for their political views, and their openmindedness, which is rare in the noble family dynamics we have seen so far.

Olivia

Besides her love for knives and weapons, Olivia's determination to make the Nevrakis name one to look up to...is her entire story arc. Her story revolves around doing the exact opposite of what her parents did, of what her aunt and Anton Severus wanted to do.

Olivia is the rare person in the books who is shown without her family at all, and that is because she lost hers at the age of five. Her aunt (great-aunt in Book 1, but they made Lucretia her mother's sister in Book 3) left her and hid in the French Riviera, insisting that "the Nevrakis heir shouldn't have needed me to hold her hand and wipe away her little tears". This is something Olivia is angry about, but accepts because she has equally high standards of her own resilience.

There is plenty in the culture of Lythikos that contributes to Olivia's character as well. These people pride in their ability to survive, their determination to power through the most challenging, exacting situations. They're a militaristic society, and Olivia takes to that mindset like a fish to water. She believes in self-reliance because it's a hard bitter lesson she has had to grow up with (though one must not discount the value of Liam as a support) and because it's part of her culture, and it's become so much a part of her thinking that when the MC insists to Lucretia that relying on friends and allies is not weakness, just common sense - Olivia is equal parts grateful and shocked by the logic of that statement. It has literally never occurred to her that she can voluntarily reach out for help!

Olivia grew up in circumstances no child should have to grow up in, and manages to embody the best of her culture in contrast to her family. She adopts her father's moniker "if you can breathe you can stand, if you can stand you can fight", but reinterprets it to mean she can fight for her beliefs, fight for more than just her family and duchy. She adopts all the good in the Nevrakis clan while working to obliterate the parts that can place her loved ones in danger.

Penelope

I've actually mentioned this before, but one of the best examples of "winging it" you can see from the books, is Penelope. The writing for her just bounces from one gaffe to another so that when you look at her overall story, nothing adds up. You have to literally stretch logic to connect the dots in her story! (I know, because I've tried).

In Book 1 she suffers from seasickness, but somehow in Book 3 she has grown up by the seaside and there is practically no mention of aforementioned seasickness. In Book 2 her family insist that she not return to court without a suitor (both her parents!) yet somehow in Book 3 when we actually meet her family you'd wonder how Landon would have allowed such things to be said to his daughter. There's a no-pets-allowed rule among the royals that Liam somehow changed when he became King, so how the hell did Penelope's parents think she was going to manage court without her emotional support animals? That too a social season and an entire world tour after that?? A lot about the writing for this family doesn't even make sense, and in some ways you can tell that the writers realized they hit a goldmine with the arc about Penelope's anxiety only when they published it, and then milked it for all it was worth (I know that sounds awful, and it is. But if they'd really, genuinely planned this properly, Penelope wouldn't appear so poorly developed as a character).

Landon and Emmeline are meant to serve as an inspiration to Drake, for their commitment to their people is something he wants to emulate (either as a Duke, or as someone who will do...something in court, I guess). The writing splits the major concerns between them: Emmeline is the Duchess who inherited this estate, and who will work through any condition or situation she is in to do her best for them. Emmeline particularly, seems to have a similar drive to power through - as Olivia, Regina and Madeleine show - the worst situations in the name of "stand up for Portavira".

Landon on the other hand, is more concerned about Penelope's well-being (not that Emmeline isn't, it's more like she doesn't fully understand how difficult it all is for Penelope), and reluctant to place her in situations where she is not comfortable (which is why the hints about them in Book 2 sound so jarring on rereads).

What stands out to me, especially in Penelope's characterization is how much coddling she has come to expect, from everyone. There is very little effort - or even inclination - to right her wrongs. Part of this is the writers seriously retconning the narrative on what Penelope did to the MC, so that NO ONE ever brings it up again. But it's partly also because, as I said, they were fully ready to commit to her story in a way they didn't for Kiara. Often I wonder what it would be like if Landon and Emmeline did get to know about Penelope's involvement. I think they'd focus their anger on the Crown for placing her in that situation in the first place, and going by this characterization they may also make Penelope out to be the victim in this situation (which isn't too far off the mark - but we also mustn't ignore how coddled Penelope is most of the time and how entitled she often sounds). But even this wouldn't be so bad if we saw Penelope take responsibility for her actions, which she never does in Book 3.

One thing I do remember from her "wedding advice" was how she spoke a lot about the need to relax in their relationship, and how in-tune they are as a couple. So in a lot of ways their success with their duchy lies in how they balance their work and family (which apparently Landon seems more comfortable doing? Because he doesn't keep as much pressure on himself for Portavira in the way Emmeline does).

Penelope's family honestly...is a mixed bag. But I can say that for the most part they're supposed to represent a supportive family that deals with a child's diagnosis of their mental health by providing support, and a couple that is dedicated to their people.

Madeleine

The characterization for Madeleine also bounces from one concept to another, tbh. They started out with writing her as merely power-hungry, manipulative, duplicitous....before retconning completely and putting all of this under the label "patriotic". There is a huge, huge disconnect between the Madeleine that rejoiced in almost breaking her lady-in-waiting, and the one who places too much pressure on herself "for the sake of Cordonia". A North Pole to South Pole sized gap, really.

If it weren't for the fact that they wrote her family storyline only because they were really that desperate to make us sympathize with Madeleine, I would have found it interesting. The seeds of it begin in the second half of Book 2, when we notice Adeleide worrying about the pressure becoming Queen is going to place on Madeleine.

In Book 3, we're faced with her father who constantly dubs her a failure and doesn't see her as worthy of attention unless he can benefit from it. And with her mother, who wants to show her support, but can't in a way her daughter is comfortable with. There is a constant emphasis in Madeleine's storyline on expectations, dealing with constant failure, and resilience. She doesn't have the kind of support system she wants from either of her parents, so she has to find her own way to make lemonade out of those lemons. So each time she has to convince herself that each failure is only another step towards the biggest success possible (marrying into the royal family), and when she is robbed of that, twice, she is left having nothing else to muster up the motivation for. Which is why, then, they promote the Cordonia angle so aggressively.

Only problem is, you don't exactly get this impression from Book 2. A person with Book 3 Madeleine's bent of mind, whose main aim was to do her best for Cordonia and who spoke of the importance of an entourage...wouldn't be so short sighted as to think that just because she was engaged she won everything, esp when her last fiancé fell in love and broke off his engagement to her as well. She wouldn't be so careless in her treatment of her own ladies-in-waiting, all of whom (except Hana, and even her family has immense influence even though her mother is from a minor noble house) are from powerful Houses and families, whose support she would need in the future.

Even if one brushes off her bullying of Hana and Penelope as no big deal (as I'm very sure some of her fans do), the fact remains that at the very least such behaviour is short-sighted and in a better story would reveal that she doesn't exactly have Cordonia's best interests in mind after all, if she jumps at the slightest excuse to burn bridges with these powerful families before she even becomes Queen.

In any case...Madeleine's family ranks as one of the messiest of the lot - her father is uninterested/feigns disinterest in the country unless it involves being involved in some elaborate plot against the monarchy, and her mother shows disinterest in her duchy overall, but is clearly invested in what makes her daughter happy. Her mother is supportive, just not in the way Madeleine wants support.

Regina also hails from Krona, and Madeleine is in some ways a reflection of her values and beliefs - which is why the two get along so well. So even though Adeleide is the Duchess of Krona, I'm pretty sure she's an anomaly in a family full of women who practice stoicism and diplomacy in their regular lives.

Hana

This note is going to be small, because as I explained earlier she was brought up in a completely different environment. Hana was brought up in a manner meant to make her flexible to whichever family she would marry into - so she learns different styles of horse riding, learns diplomacy over a toy tea set, is expected to know all the 26 important dance varieties in Cordonia by the time she is an adult, grows up learning about the countries neighbouring Cordonia as well. I have a whole other essay that speaks about her upbringing alone, so I won't speak much about that here, but you definitely get the feeling that her parents spent so much time trying to cultivate an asset for themselves that they rarely ever stopped to think about her as a person.

--

The overall impression I do get from modern Cordonian nobility in the books (not just from these guys, but also interactions with other nobles like Rashad and Neville, and palace staff like Bastien) is that Cordonia is a culturally diverse place, and people in different estates have different dynamics that are influenced by their family situation and by the culture they were born into, but overall there is more of an inclination to show resilience and power, than to confess to weakness. Which makes sense, because many of them are public figures under immense scrutiny, who are aware of the kind of message they could send if they show the slightest signs of weakness. That's my overall impression of this.

I hope you enjoyed that, CL anon! Now I'm curious about what the next question is 😀

[viscerallywilbur]

Daniel appreciation post

I have a little rat bastard named Daniel Kelly Hammond and everyone hates him but he's a good man.

This daft motherfucker is hated by just about everyone in the story but I love and appreciate him, and here's why:

He had no idea Jackson and Sean were finally together when he and Sean hooked up.

He deeply regretted banging a taken man and tried dozens of time to apologize only to be shut down.

He works ridiculously hard to keep himself in college, paying all he's remaining fees himself because he only got a partial scholarship.

He does everything he can to not be a burden on his aunts because he knows they didn't have to take him in.

He feels bad for his mother rather than hating her despite her abusive tendencies that had eventually led to his own father's death.

He tries ridiculously hard to stay positive despite his shitty situation, but still acknowledges his own mental health and need to go to therapy and take his antidepressants.

•He's not the bad guy!!!

Something to consider next time you read about Jackson being a bitch.

Also an excerpt from later on in the book:

    He went to bed knowing he had plenty to think over now, and as his eyes fluttered shut wondered what the future had in store for him. He drifted off, and then woke up somewhere entirely new.

Jackson was beyond confused to see that he had woken up in a dark, snowy environment he had no recognition of. From what he could see, he was resting in a chair on the back end of an old fishing boat. Out front, a dim yellow light shone off into the distance illuminating the falling snow ahead. He got up and made his way forward, noticing only then the moving shadow of a person drifting across the snowy background. When he turned the corner he was in complete disbelief seeing who it was.

“Daniel?” He gasped.

The figure turned to look at him and clearly couldn’t believe his eyes either.

“Clarke? How the hell did you manage to get all the way out here?” Daniel flared.

“I honestly have no idea. How are you here?”

“I don’t know either to tell the truth, but last I checked I was on this boat alone.”

If he were honest, Jackson was pretty disappointed seeing just how upset Daniel was seeing him. He’d realized what an asshole he’d been to Daniel a long time ago, and he’d really thought this would be his chance to finally make amends with him. He also, however, completely understood why Daniel wouldn’t want to.

“Fine,” He said. “I’ll take the loss. I guess I’ll just go wait back where I woke up and maybe I’ll end up home again.”

Without another word, Jackson turned right back around and did just what he said he would. He didn’t take into consideration just how cold it was as he sat and waited, before long he was curled up and shivering. He listened to the waves as he waited, thinking about what could’ve turned Daniel since he’d last seen him. Jackson thought he’d finally come around since he didn’t kill him, but then again, maybe he just didn’t want that blood on his hands.

“I guess I can’t really blame him though, can I?” He muttered to himself.

Boy was he right about that. He couldn’t help but think back to all of the times he’d treated Daniel like shit since they’d met. If he were to put them all together he’d have an entire weeks worth of video footage. The worst part was that he often didn’t even realize what he was doing. It just kept happening that he was so caught up in his own shit that…

“Hey.” He heard from behind him.

… That he didn’t even realize what was happening around him. Jackson turned to see Daniel behind him, who tossed him a thick jacket.

“It’s pretty cold out man, I’m pretty sure we're somewhere in the Arctic.” Daniel huffed, not looking Jackson in the eye.

Jackson muttered thanks in return, wasting no time before putting it on. Daniel lead him into the sheltered part of the boat where a space heater was kept so he could warm up, but the icy silence between them started to prove to be the real issue.

“Daniel...” Jackson tried breaking the silence, not quite knowing how.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” Daniel chose for him.

“Oh yeah. That one just seems to be a given with me I guess.” Jackson let out a pained laugh.

Again he was left with nothing but a glimpse of a cold glare from Daniel, then a chilled silence.

“I’m sorry about all that you know.” Jackson reached out.

“And you should be.” Daniel retorted, leaving him hanging.

“Look, Daniel, I know I treated you like absolute garbage, but honestly I finally realized it was me who’s been the asshole. Hell, all the shit I was mad at you over wasn’t even your damn fault.” He paused a moment. “Shit, if anything, I'm the bad guy here.”

“Yea, you kinda are.” Daniel retorted, seeming to retreat again after a second. “It’s just… Well, Sean’s been there for me our whole damn lives, then suddenly he grows a ‘conscience’ and up and leaves? All ‘cause of what anyway? Some foreign twink he met like a month ago?” He finally stopped himself, looking away.

“Did you just call me a twink?”

“That’s beside the point!”

It took them a second, but they both couldn’t help laughing at that.

“But anyway,” Daniel continued. “It was just kinda bullshit man, I was pretty much left stranded there.”

“I can get that.” They stayed quiet again for a moment. “Damn, even I’d be pretty pissed with my dumbass if I’d have known that. Shit, I am. Of course my stupid twink self had to go and latch on to the first asshole who’d look my way. I guess I just really missed my childhood ‘friend.’ Then again, that bitch turned out to be some murderous psychopath anyway.”

“You’ve got some pretty shit taste in guys, huh?” Daniel joked.

“Boy, are you right about that!” Jackson laughed. “What’s that say about you then?”

“Whaddya mean by that?”

“Sean and Tobias? Same shit choices as me man.”

“Oh yeah right, I’m not gay dude.”

“Hold up, what?” Jackson stopped. “You’ve literally only ever been interested in guys as far as I’ve seen. Shit, you’ve definitely fucked at least two.”

Daniel froze up at this.

“Wh- I- That-” He seemed to be getting flustered. “Shit, I’m gay aren’t I?”

“You really need me to tell you that?”

“Well, I just- I’ve never really thought about it before. Definitely never admitted it before.” Daniel submitted.

“Really? How?”

“I don’t know, my mom’s just really against gays so I never even considered it in the first place.”

“Oh, wow.” Jackson was  . “Daniel, I am so sorry…”

“Don’t be man, that one’s not your fault.”

“Still, that’s gotta be pretty damn rough. I don’t know how I could live without my mom’s support. She’s got my  it comes to just about everything.”

“Must be nice. But hey, it’s not like it’s much of an issue anymore. I’d been living with my aunts since I was like fifteen.”

“Aunts? So like-”

“Yea! Man, they’re great. It’s really cool actually having an example of a normal healthy relationship in my life. Guess the psychological damage on me was already done though.”

“That’s actually incredible man! I guess it’s too bad I’ll never actually get to meet them though, they sound great.” Jackson gushed.

“Maybe you could if you ever get off this boat, let me write their address down for you.”

Jackson couldn’t help grinning at how happy Daniel looked writing it out for him on little notecard. He honestly couldn’t even remember a time when Daniel seemed happy to be around him in the first place. Daniel handed him the address and sat back in his chair.

“Man, it actually feels pretty damn nice to admit it. Now that I think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever had a connection with a chick beyond being friends.” Daniel laughed. “So what’s that mean now? Am I like… out of the closet or whatever it was?”

“Yea, I guess so.” Jackson smiled at him.

They sat quietly for a short while looking out at the snow.

“You know what?” Daniel interrupted the quiet. “I’m sorry too Jackson, for not seeing that Sean was the problem that whole damn time.”

“He had good intentions, but that fucker sure made a mess of things, huh?”

“You got that right.” He laughed. “I’ll be honest, I hope we get to see each other again Jackson, I get the feeling you’ll be out of here much quicker than I will.”

“Me too Daniel, me too.”

With that, despite having just woken up Jackson's eyelids grew heavy again, returning him to his cell with sunlight streaming in onto his eyes.

In conclusion, Daniel deserves love too.