#and that's just the reality of the situation

[kooqitas]

#pairing: jungkook x reader.

#genre: smut MINORS DNI | #w.c: ~1800

#synopsis: crying on jungkook's shoulder might not have been the smartest idea in the world since now he's fucking you while your ex is calling.

#warnings: vaginal sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (f.), namjoon ex bf, rough sex. jk has a bick dick. maybe phone sex?

★ m.list | inbox :D join my taglist

it was friday when jungkook texted you asking if you were gonna the college party, and of course your answer was 'no'. breaking up with namjoon was one thing, but seeing him at a party where he would probably kiss several girls in front of you was a bit too much

"you can't stay home while the biggest party of the semester is going on"

'"yes i can, and i will!"

"god, why are you so complicated? at least come over to my house, i won't leave you suffering alone'

"i'm not suffering, jungkook!'

that's a lie. you were. a lot.

you ended up accepting jungkook's invitation, at first feeling bad for ruining the party for him, but jungkook was always the person who made you comfortable, usually when you went to parties with namjoon, he was the one who always stayed by your side while namjoon got drunk with his friends, he was the one who took you and namjoon home, the reality is that jungkook spent much more time by your side than your, now ex, boyfriend.

jungkook was excited, he came over and offered you wine and before you knew it you were on the couch, with your legs over his while he tried to convince you that it was namjoon who had lost you, not the other way around.

"he fuck so good, jungkook," you admitted, clearly overcome by the drink (added to your fertile period that made your panties damp at that very moment). "that pisses me off. he's arrogant, stupid, i hate him... but damn, the sex was so good"

jungkook laughed, as affected by the alcohol as you were, it's not like he'd never heard namjoon talk about sex with you, how wild and rough you two were.

it wasn't like jungkook had never heard you two...

but in that situation, knowing that you weren't together anymore, it was a little different...

"he pulled my hair, hit me, called me a whore, damn, it was so good, i can complain about him in many ways, except for this one, the son of a bitch made me cum like no one else"

"jesus!" jungkook said, taking a sip of his drink.

okay, things need to be pointed out, yes, jungkook was gorgeous, damn, he was hot, but you had never thought of him as a 'man' he was just your boyfriend's best friend, who always hung out with you at parties, who danced with you on the dance floor, who complimented your clothes and makeup, who complimented your smell, your lip gloss...

"i hope one day i can find someone who fucks me like him," you blurted out.

and jungkook took a deep breath, motivated a little by the drink, but deep down he knew that if it wasn't right then he might never have another chance. i mean, it was crazy, of course it was, who in their right mind would try to have sex with their best friend's ex-girlfriend when it hasn't even been a month since they broke up...

but jungkook wasn't the sanest person at the moment, in fact he never was when it came to you, not when he jerked off in the bathroom of namjoon's parents' beach house last month after seeing you parading around the pool in a red bikini.

"i can fuck you like him, in fact... i can fuck you even better"

"what?" you choked on your own saliva when you heard that.

jungkook took advantage of the fact that your legs were on top of his and started to leave a mischievous caress on your knee

"i told you i can fuck you better than him"

"jungkook..." you scolded him, but deep down that idea excited you.

"hi, love"

"fuck, that's not right"

"why not, why the hell are you so scared to do that?

"it's not for me, it's for you"

"well, i don't care... i've wanted to fuck you for a while now"

you choked again, but before you could say anything, jungkook took the glass from your hand and laid down with his body on top of yours.

you were going to ask again what the hell was that, what the hell was he doing, but jungkook kissed you, and there, fuck any lucid thought you could have.

the taste of wine in his mouth, his hot tongue entering your mouth with voracity, fuck any conscious shit, you needed to fuck with jungkook at that moment.

it was a blur until you were only in your panties underneath him while he sucked your tits, using his hand to play with the free nipple in a somewhat abrupt way, he seemed desperate, in reality, he was desperate, jungkook had been thinking about fucking you for so long that it seemed like a joke from the universe.

he finally took off his shirt and you smiled with his chest exposed, and jungkook just grunted, going back to kissing you while the tie of his shorts hit your waist. you knew he would be big, but nothing expected you for what you saw when he pulled down his shorts with his underwear all at once.

jungkook's cock was big, thick, full of veins and the purple head was already leaking precum. you couldn't hide your scared face when you saw it, making jungkook laugh.

'what's wrong?'

'fuck, that won't fit...'

'yes, it will, love, i'm gonna suck you and open you up for me, you're gonna take every inch of it and be a good girl on my cock!'

you gasped, agreeing, and jungkook laughed again, trailing kisses down your belly until he reached your panties... you quickly lifted your hips, a silent request for him to remove the fabric right away, and he obeyed.

the first thing jungkook did was smell your wet panties, the scene almost made you cum.

"if you taste as good as you smell, fuck, kitten..."

and jungkook sucked your clit, you moaned loudly, holding his hair. it was a mix of desperation and pleasure that you only felt when you had sex while stoned with your ex, and there was jungkook, ok, not 100% sober, but wanting you so fucking much...

you didn't even see when he inserted a finger, but at a certain point you were grabbing the couch's upholstery because he had three fingers inside you while he sucked your clit, your hips lifting desperately seeking more contact, at the same time trying to pull away, jungkook's long hair tickling your belly nicely, the way he put his fingers deeper and deeper...

you saw the ceiling of the room spin, and the next second jungkook had only his mouth on you.

sucking every drop.

you had never been sucked so well, but you were far from satisfied, so you were just grateful when without any prior warning jungkook entered you.

fuck, it burned, he was so fucking big. jungkook laughed, trying to contain his own arousal while you got used to his size. he ran his hand over your nipples, squeezing the tip, rubbing his fingertips on your belly, on your thigh... all while looking at you as if he wanted to devour you... and he did.

"jungkook..."

just his name was enough for him to understand, and then he thrust, his balls hitting you full on made you see stars. and the rhythm only increased, along with the brutality.

"i've wanted you like this for so long, fuck, imagining my cock destroying that tiny pussy"

you grabbed his shoulder, immersed in your own feeling and the noises you were making.

but something took you out of orbit.

ir rather, someone.

the shrill ring of the phone with the name 'namjoon' on the screen. you ignored the first call, the second, but on the third jungkook got irritated, he swiped right and simply accepted the call. your eyes widened, mumbling a 'what?'

but all jungkook said back was an 'answer', stopping his thrusting into you.

you obeyed.

damn the time you obeyed.

"where the fuck are you? why didn't you come to the party?"

"i... hm?"

"i'm asking why you didn't come to this fucking party, i got all dressed up, i bought a fucking bouquet, i bought your favorite chocolate, where the fuck are you?" namjoon was irritated, visibly irritated.

"i..." you tried to answer, fuck, what would you say to him? "i jus-OH" you moaned loudly, when jungkook moved inside you again, a little less aggressive than before, still strong.

you whispered a 'stop' but jungkook ignored it, laughing when you put your hand over your mouth trying not to moan loudly.

"you what?" namjoon questioned from the other side.

"i... i'm not very- very well" you choked on your own moans, while jungkook laughed.

you looked at him desperately, but he just laughed, whispering for you to continue talking on the phone. and of course you could hang up and end it all, but that feeling was so good... you felt like a slut, but you had never felt so good.

jungkook slapped your breasts audibly, enough for namjoon to hear.

"what's going on there?"

"nothing... is just thFUCK, JUNGKOOK!" you screamed without thinking as jungkook thrust even harder, the couch scraping on the living room floor as his balls slammed violently against you.

"wait, what? you said WHAT?"

at this point in the game, fuck any shit, you just ignored your ex-boyfriend, moaning loudly as jungkook fucked you like an animal, you knew namjoon was listening, he was following the line, but fuck any shit, you needed to cum, and thanks to this disgusting situation you would cum soon.

"are you fucking with my best friend? what type of whore are you?"

"my whore." jungkook took the phone from your hand, still thrusting angrily. "i'm fucking her delicious pussy, the one you kept telling me was tight, that it was delicious, fuck, you were right, it's so fucking delicious!"

and jungkook hung up, still laughing at you.

namjoon returned the call, the phone vibrating in jungkook's hand as he laughed evilly.

jungkook pressed the phone to your clit, the vibration being enough to make you cum exactly 10 seconds later, but jungkook went further...

he accepted namjoon's call, only to turn it into a video call, and then show his (maybe now ex) best friend, a video with a perfect angle of him cumming inside you.

before namjoon could say anything, jungkook hung up, his heavy body falling on top of yours.

"fuck that..." you tried to say.

"shhhh, let's think about it later? i just lost my best friend"

"do you regret it?"

"it depends... will I be able to fuck you more often?"

you thought, and it was pretty clear that you wanted to again, so why lie?

"if you want..."

"then no, fuck, i only regret not trying before..."

"u are crazy..." you laughed.

[acureforthisheart]

That is so far from the truth honestly. I work in a library, and the reason why you can't sleep in our library is literally that we as workers cannot tell if you are just asleep or passed out or in some kind of medical distress. Believe me, many people experience medical emergencies in our library. And no, we don't think that homeless people are illiterate at all! We've had homeless people from all walks of life that use the library for so many reasons. Some people need a warm place to sit, some people are doing research, and others need to use public computers. We even have nap pods for people to use! There is actually a lot of nuance to the topic of unhoused individuals using the library. Libraries have become some of the only indoor public spaces and are basically the last free third space. However, we don't have the training or funding to have social workers in our library who can more effectively help unhoused people! Unfortunately, problems arise that affect the safety of all our patrons. One example is, we have a lot of white homeless patrons, and we've had problems with racial violence. Or we've had patrons experiencing breaks with reality which is something we are not equipped to deal with in any way, shape or form. Again, circulation desk workers are paid very little and actually end up in unsafe situations all the time. There is nuance here, and mostly it's that the larger government systems have failed us and the constant slashing of social programs and active hostility to homeless people and the encroachment of late stage capitalism have created this scenario where libraries bear a lot of weight trying to protect and keep everyone safe and be inclusive and welcoming to everyone and are given literally no tools to do so. Also, library systems have internal class issues at play and we have our funding cut literally all the time even when we try and offer more services if we can. There is nuance here.

Just watched a librarian yell at a guy for sleeping in a chair

Apparently its against the rules to sleep in a library

Like sorry you have comfy cozy chairs out??? Also homeboy wasn’t snoring or anything like it wasn’t even disruptive sleeping what the fuck

[bramblebeau]

Alright I told myself I wouldn't interact with fandom when s2 came out, and I haven't and don't plan to except to say this about people deciding Caitlyn is the Worst or that the writing is OOC.

As someone who has had a family member violently killed, I cannot stress how much it shakes up everything you thought you were and stood for. My beliefs in proportionate compassionate justice and the rights of all human beings are some of the strongest I have (stronger now because of the way that experience affected me personally), but they were pushed to the absolute limit when it came to an individual who had killed my loved one, showed no remorse, and laughed in our faces outside court, among other things.

People generally like to believe it wouldn't be them or their peace-loving family members being talked down from seriously considering violent revenge, consequences be damned. People like to believe they wouldn't lash out at people closest to them under that pressure, that they wouldn't build walls around the kindest and most sensitive parts of themselves because those parts are the ones feeling pain you never thought possible, that they wouldn't stalk the killer, make notes on all their family and friends, and fuck up their hands punching walls in anger wishing so badly it was flesh and bone because they can't handle the fact that there's no way to turn back time to stop it all from happening. People like to think they're "better" than that. But the reality is messy and painful as hell.

With Caitlyn, she has the added guilt of having actually had the opportunity to stop Jinx before she fired the rocket, but she hesitated just long enough for it to result in the deaths of her mother and other councillors and in the cities being plunged into chaos. Not only that, but the person close to her she's lashing out at is the person who caused her to hesitate, and just so happens to be the sister of the killer.

Furthermore, her behaviour is entirely in character. We have seen her set up as someone who becomes obsessed with achieving a goal and will do pretty much anything she wants to get there. In S1, we agreed with her methods because her goal was exposing and taking down Silco, and because it led to Vi being released. In S2, she's doing a similar thing but it's fuelled by fear and a type of pain she doesn't know how to deal with, rather than being fuelled by a need to prove herself and solve a case, and it leads to her making morally questionable decisions and to hurting Vi. She admits herself, albeit privately to Vi, that she does not know what she's doing and doesn't know how to fill this hole in her chest (and the hole in the city leadership). She has been sheltered from the real world for almost all her life, and as a result she has no experience of functioning or making decisions under this kind of pressure. The real world blew up in her face in the worst way and she was given power and a loaded rifle, and then shoved into an even more elevated position by a very experienced warlord who is manipulating the shit out of the whole situation.

I'm not saying that you have free rein to hurt people when you're grieving and facing extreme stress. (If you think that's what I'm saying then idk I'm not sure there's much hope for you in terms of critical thinking skills). What I'm saying is that Caitlyn is exhibiting pretty normal human behaviour that most people would be susceptible to in those circumstances, not the behaviour of someone who is some kind of heartless abusive bastard.

TLDR: Caitlyn is being written in a way that completely makes sense and is also not OOC, and if someone told me there would be no chance of them reacting in similar ways I simply would not believe them.

[yuanist]

kuroo texts you at 3:52 am, almost three months after you broke up.

admittedly, you probably should've silenced notifications from him by now, but when you roll over—eyes barely open, a little headache from the light—you know you're much, much too late.

a text, from your ex-boyfriend, the big, blue bubble stretched across your phone.

i just moaned your name during sex.

you blink at the screen.

you what?

moaned your name, he sends. totally ruined the moment.

you look up, and then down, and then up one more time to make sure what you’re looking it is real and not some strange, midnight hallucination before typing again.

you’re fucking with me, right?

dead serious, he replies. worst moment of my life.

you can hear his voice in the text, and if you weren’t so caught up in thinking about the poor girl who probably just had the worst sexual experience of her life, you would laugh.

you need to find a hobby or something, tetsurou. you send. and preferably one that doesn't involve tinder.

i have hobbies!

non-sexual ones?

he types for a while before a short, little totally! pops up on his side of the conversation.

and you hate that this is the part of him that’s most intriguing. the unintentional charm, too weird for his own good part that keeps you texting him at four in the morning.

yeah, you send, quicker than you intended. totally.

and suddenly, you're really considering something you shouldn't. before tonight, you hadn't heard from in a while—at least not enough to be thinking about him. you'd resigned yourself to your little, single life and you figured boyfriends might be more harm than they're worth (at least for a while, anyway), but now you have a new little do you wanna come over? typed out into your messaging app, finger hovering over the send button.

you take a minute, trying to rationalize.

the responsible part of you thinks it's way too late to be asking for anything good. you have class in the morning, and you're all tucked into bed, and bringing him here would really stir up some old feelings you weren't looking to bring back right now.

the other part of you—the more fun of the two, you'll admit—knows that you're thinking about him and he's... definitely thinking of you, so what's the harm in indulging a little bit? maybe nothing would happen anyway and you'd just end up staring at each other for a while, but sitting in your bed alone, staring doesn't sound like the worst thing in the world.

you send the text.

there's radio silence for a moment, and you think you might have just fucked the whole we can be exes and friends! thing up, but after a moment or two, he replies.

really?

and you sigh, don't make me change my mind.

he sends an immediate be there in 10, and you flop yourself back into the pillows.

now, okay, you'd be lying if you said you haven't been in this situation before. you and kuroo have always had a strange habit of—gravitating towards each other, to put it politely. it doesn't matter how many times you guys swear each other off, there's always going to be a party, or a text, or a run-in at the grocery store that brings you together (in more ways than one).

the whole i just moaned your name thing, though, that one's new.

your eyes flicker up to the ceiling, then down to your feet, and then, finally, your phone—the reality of this whole thing sinking in a little.

are you supposed to—shave your legs for this? put on your good pajamas: the ones that ride up a little when you bend over? is that where this is going? you're pretty sure it is, but every time this has happened before, it's been a little more spontaneous than this. right now, you have time to prepare and time to think, which you're now realizing is something you really did not want.

you sit there for a minute, coming to the conclusion that this is kuroo. you dated for two years, and you shared a bed at night for more of that time than you'd care to admit, so what does it matter how prepared you are?

you hear a key turn in the front door (the one from under the mat; you took away his actual key you think) and, all of a sudden, you're kind of nervous.

you haven't felt this way in a while, especially when it comes to him. you think you might hate it.

nevertheless, your feet hit the floor and you let yourself pad your way into the entryway, just in time to see someone sliding his shoes into the gap between the doorway and the wall.

you flick the light on, and he jumps a little.

a beat of silence, and then, "hi."

that's all you can come up with right now, truly, and you blame half of it on the time and the other half on the fact that kuroo looks like that.

he's always been pretty, no doubt about that, but right now he looks a little beat up in a way that you have to admit you're kind of into.

his hair's messed up: half of it shifted more left than right, with a little curl to it that he doesn't normally have. his cheeks are red, and he's a sort of out of breath and—did he run here?

"hi," he says, smiling, heaving out a breath.

(oh, he totally did. maybe you're a little more alluring than you thought).

you chuckle out one more, final hi, before he steps towards you.

he smells good—not that that's something you focus on, obviously—but he's still wearing that cologne you bought him last christmas and there's a little tinge of sweat to him that suits him so much better than you'd think.

he has a t-shirt on—one you got from a concert a couple years ago; you can't remember exactly when anymore, but it's clear that the thing has gotten its wear. the hole in the left shoulder is glaring at you from here and you kind of want to poke it.

"i have your key, by the way," he says then, dangling the little thing between his fingers. "did you ask for it back?"

oops.

"i—meant to." you snatch it from him, tossing it onto one of the side tables. "definitely meant to."

his hand lingers there for a second, a big, toothy smile spread across his face. "oh, sure you did."

and you eye him, a short what's that supposed to mean? rolling out of your lips.

he shakes his head, moving closer again—so much so that you can feel the cast of his breath along your cheeks.

"you still like me," he says, and you swear you can see his vocal cords bob in his throat.

"pardon?"

"you think i'm fun—and endearing, and still worthy of a house key."

"i think you're nuts." you say, fluttering your lashes a little. "and really not in the position to be making these accusations."

"you really think so?" he leans in one more time, close enough that his lips brush that arch between your jaw and your neck. "go ahead—tell me all about how crazy i am."

you feel something inside you quiver.

this right here, this is the whole game between the two of you. some sick little cat-and-mouse thing that always leads to something that you regret in the morning and—inevitably—repeat next week.

truthfully, though, you're getting kind of sick of fighting it.

"god, i can't stand you." you back away, edging towards the hallway that leads to your room. "are you coming with me or what?"

and he grins, because of course he is.

reblogs are appreciated! ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

[buldakcorn]

Captured

LOONA/LOOSSEMBLE Yeojin x Male Characters

1349 words

Genre: (TW) Non-con, Size kink, Manhandling, Carryfuck, Belly bulge, Forced creampie

Yeojin's heart raced as the shadowy figures closed in, their towering forms casting long, menacing shadows on the cold, damp concrete. Despite her size, she had always been fiercely independent, but now, surrounded by these brutes, she felt more vulnerable than ever. The stench of their sweat and the metallic scent of fear filled the air as their grinning faces leered down at her. She knew what they wanted, what they were here to do, and she knew she had to fight with every ounce of strength she had to prevent them from carrying out their sickening plan.

Her eyes searched desperately for an escape, but the alley walls seemed to close in around her, trapping her like a cornered animal. With a trembling voice, she demanded they leave her alone, her words echoing in the silence of the night. But the men only chuckled, their grip tightening around her slender arms, as they began to drag her deeper into the darkness.

Yeojin's clothing was ripped away, leaving her bare and trembling in the harsh glow of a solitary streetlight that had managed to pierce through the gloom. Her pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears as the men's rough hands began to explore her small, delicate frame, their eyes glinting with malicious intent. The cold air of the alley bit at her exposed skin, raising goosebumps that had nothing to do with the chill. They squeezed and groped her breasts, the cruelty in their touch sending waves of revulsion through her body. Each time she begged them to stop, her words were met with a sharp slap on her ass, the sound echoing through the deserted space. The pain was a stark reminder of her vulnerability, fueling the fire of her determination to somehow find a way out of this nightmare.

Her eyes searched for anything that could be used as a weapon, a glimmer of hope, but the alley remained a grim tableau of shadow and despair. The men's laughter grew louder, their anticipation palpable, as they continued their humiliating assault on her dignity. Yeojin knew she had to act fast if she was to survive this horrific ordeal.

One of the men, a hulking brute with a sneer that sent shivers down Yeojin's spine, stepped forward and casually dropped his pants, revealing his engorged member. He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at it as he stroked himself with a hand that looked as if it could crush her entire head. He bent down, his hot breath reeking of stale alcohol, and whispered, "Look what you're missing out on, little one." His calloused fingers then invaded the soft folds of her sex, rubbing her clit with a roughness that sent a shock of pain through her body.

She screamed a furious "No!" that pierced the night, her voice hoarse from fear and outrage. Despite her protests, the man's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with perverse pleasure at her distress. "You're going to love this," he leered, his voice a sickening blend of mockery and excitement. Yeojin's mind raced as she desperately tried to think of a way to escape, her body trembling with a mix of fear and revulsion as the men's grip tightened around her. She pleaded once more, "Please, just leave me alone!" but her words were lost in the cacophony of their lewd comments and cruel laughter. The reality of her situation was setting in, and she knew she had to fight back with everything she had if she didn't want to become a mere plaything for their depraved desires.

The man behind Yeojin lined himself up with her trembling pussy, his towering frame casting a dark shadow over her exposed form. Despite her efforts to resist, the men held her in place, forcing her to stand on her tippy toes to meet the brute's monstrous height. She could feel the hot, throbbing head of his cock nudging against her entrance, a stark and terrifying reminder of the brutal violation that awaited her. The cold, unyielding concrete beneath her bare feet offered no comfort, only a harsh contrast to the warm, sticky mess of fear that coated her skin. She squeezed her eyes shut, tears streaming down her cheeks, and braced herself for the pain that she knew was about to come. The man's grin grew wider as he took in the sight of her quivering body, his excitement palpable in the air as he positioned himself to take her roughly. Yeojin's chest heaved with shallow, panicked breaths, her mind racing for a way out of the impending horror.

With a violent grunt, the man lifted Yeojin off the ground, his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her onto his massive, pulsating cock. Her legs dangled uselessly in the air, unable to find purchase as she was held in his iron grip. She screamed as he thrust into her, the sheer size of him ripping through her tight, unprepared pussy with a brutal force that sent shockwaves of agony through her entire being. "It hurts! It's too big!" she wailed, her voice piercing the air with desperation. The men laughed in unison, their sadistic delight only growing as her cries grew more frantic. Her eyes bulged as she stared at the monstrous cock invading her, her tiny frame no match for the thick, unyielding shaft that claimed her with each savage pump. The pain was unlike anything she had ever felt, a searing, relentless fire that consumed her as the brute pounded into her mercilessly. The others watched with eager eyes, stroking their own swollen members as they awaited their turn with the defenseless girl, their lustful grins a testament to their depravity. Yeojin's world had been reduced to a whirlwind of pain, fear, and the crushing weight of the brute's body as he used her to satisfy his animalistic desires.

Yeojin's body, despite the agony, began to react involuntarily to the relentless assault, her pussy spasming and clenching around the monstrous cock that invaded her. The brute's deep, guttural grunts filled the alley as he hammered into her, his thrusts growing more erratic as he neared climax. Each time he slammed into her, his hips slapped against her ass, leaving reddened prints on her pale skin. The men around her jeered and whispered degrading comments, their eyes alight with sadistic glee as they watched her suffering. "Look at the little slut, taking it all," one of them taunted, while another chuckled, "You're going to take all our cum, aren't you?" Despite her pleas for them to stop, her body betrayed her, her orgasms coming in waves, one after another, each one more intense than the last. The outline of the brute's cock was clearly visible on her distended belly, a sickening testament to the brutal stretching she was enduring.

"Ah, I'm gonna cum, little one," the brute grunted, his eyes rolling back in his head as he felt his climax approaching. Yeojin's pleas grew more frantic, "Please, no, don't cum inside me!" she begged, her voice trembling with fear and pain. Her legs were wrapped tightly around his waist, trying to hold onto any semblance of control she had left, but her words had no effect on the animalistic creature ravaging her. His grip grew even tighter, his thrusts more erratic as he neared the peak of his lust. Yeojin could feel the pressure building inside of her, the stretching and burning becoming unbearable as she knew she was about to be filled with his vile seed.

With a final, violent thrust, the man's entire body tensed, and Yeojin felt the hot, thick fluid fill her up, his cock pulsing with each shot deep within her. She screamed in despair, her body trembling uncontrollably as wave after wave of his cum flooded her insides, the sensation of being so utterly filled and claimed washing over her in a nauseating tide of violation. The men around them cheered and clapped, their lustful eyes never leaving the scene before them as they eagerly awaited their turns to use and degrade her even further.

Happy (belated) Yeojin day! A short one for the short one.

---

Will be going on a hiatus for the rest of the month and will go back to writing afterwards.

Ideas are welcomed. :)

[paingoes]

questions for conditioned characters

A) do they know what conditioning is? B) do they understand that they've been conditioned? C) how does this understanding, or lack thereof, affect their perception of themselves?

[seitmai]

“Of course,” he whispered back, pressing a kiss to your thigh and lifting his head with a smile. The darkness had left his eyes. How long until it returned? “Thank you for calming me down.” “Of course,” you echoed because what else could you do?

Truly 🥲

His brows pinched a little as his hands gently framed your cheeks. “Kotyonok, why do you sound so upset?” He asked, his thumbs moving in a soothing motion as you took a deep breath. “Wait, are you scared that I’d be mad at you?” “I… I don’t know,” you said. You didn’t necessarily think he’d be upset with you, but after his mood swings at lunch and everything else so far you weren't sure what to expect. “I just don't know.”

He is so erratic, it's hard to tell anything at all 🥴

“I appreciate you telling me, but you have nothing to worry about. Just have a good rest of the day.” With a kiss to the corner of your mouth, he whispered, “I’ll be thinking of you until I see you again.”

I'm sure he is 🥲

She clapped her hands. “Oh, that’s wonderful! And don’t you dare be modest. Let him spoil you.” “I have a feeling he’ll spoil me even if I don't ask him to,” you said. Your whole experience with Bucky was whether you wanted it or not, so why would he stop now?

🥴😬🫣

He held your arm when you tried to get out. “You express yourself through Acts of Service with loving gestures and helping with tasks, but what you crave is Quality Time because you value meaningful interactions and connecting with people on a more personal level.” You nodded slowly. It was why you loved hanging out with your girlfriends. You cherished making memories with them.

Which is very natural and reasonable, if you choose these times yourself 🙈

“Right. Not for our first time.” He tipped his head back as he took a breath, no doubt trying to control himself. “Just one more kiss, Kotyonok. One more for me to dream about tonight,” he groaned, bringing his face back to yours for one more kiss with fervor. Just when you thought it would turn more ravenous, he shifted to something soft, tender. A feeling that had both of you shaking when it ended, but likely for different reasons.

Very different reasons 🥴

“It doesn't matter, but if you really want to see and hear me, please, pay attention,” you said, yanking your arm away. “I want to go home.” “Why? Is it because that kiss meant something to you and you don't want to admit it?” He asked, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “If you're embarrassed that it made you wet, don't be. I'm flattered. Besides, it got me hard.”

Geez Barnes just listen to her 🤦🏻‍♀️

Heat filled your cheeks and you wanted to smack him. There was a fine line between the delusion he had in his head and the reality of the situation. The tightrope you were walking was close to snapping. “I’m not embarrassed. I can't breathe.” You stepped back, trying to give yourself space. Was Ray watching from the car? “Everything in my life recently has revolved around you or you being there. Say what you want about me being lonely, it doesn't give you an excuse to take over.”

I beg you, please smack some sense into him!

Bucky’s smile slipped, like he was really seeing how bothered you were. “I told you I just want to love you. And you enjoy Quality Time.” “Quality Time when we agree upon it. And love itself should be the thing to take my breath away, not you smothering me,” you gently stated.

This!!!

“I’m not trying to smother you.” He shifted like he was the one uncomfortable, his gaze flicking to the ground. “I… I know you can't breathe,” he said, lifting a hand as if to reach out before he dropped it and took a deep breath. “That’s why I'm leaving you alone tomorrow,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You're what?” You asked in disbelief, catching the hint of vulnerability in his eyes as his shoulders dropped. He hadn't left you alone since he broke in. Why in the world would he stop now? “I was going to bring it up when I dropped you off.” His hand worked its way through his hair. “I’ve been thinking about it and talking and… I’m smothering you. I know I am. Rearranging your schedule, making you meet my friends, and everything else. So…” He reached for you this time and took your hand. “I’m giving you a breather and I’m not going to be around tomorrow. No surprise visits. No calls. Maybe a text, but nothing more.”

Good god it's so up and down with him, im gonna get whiplash 🥴

You blinked. “So, we won't see each other tomorrow?” You tried not to get too excited. It was only a day, but between that and the girls day that was still something. You had to go the cautiously optimistic route again and take what you got.

She's better than me, I would have done a happy dance or something lol

“That’s my girl.” He turned and paused at the door with a smile. “Can I at least help you try on the dress? Or you can model it for me and I'll tell you how beautiful you are.” You smiled back a little. “Don't push your luck,”

For real 😒

Hold You Tight: Part 12

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 11 | Series Masterlist | Part 13

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.7k

Chapter Summary: Bucky gets under your skin when he takes you shopping.

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, dirty talk, mild dubcon (kissing, touching), tension, unease, possessiveness, inner turmoil, gaslighting, manipulation, slight feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight and hope you enjoy! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You weren’t sure how much time passed with Bucky’s head resting in your lap, your fingers absentmindedly moving through his hair. While his body relaxed, you remained rigid. You tried to think of positive things. Your upcoming trip to the winery, Addison’s wedding. The images in your mind darkened though as if a cloud loomed over them. In a way, it did because you didn’t know what Bucky had planned for those events. Because even if Bucky really let you go to the winery alone, someone would be watching.

You forced the cloud in your mind to lift. Things could still be positive. You could still have a good day and have the best time with your friends.

“I’m sorry, but I have to get back to work,” you whispered.

“Of course,” he whispered back, pressing a kiss to your thigh and lifting his head with a smile. The darkness had left his eyes. How long until it returned? “Thank you for calming me down.”

“Of course,” you echoed because what else could you do?

Brushing his pants off once he got to his feet, he helped you up and didn’t let go of your hand. You didn’t attempt to pull away. He made sure to grab the money you left on the table before he paid the server and you tried to give the poor guy a smile when you thanked him. You just wanted to get on with your day.

As Bucky led you out of the cafe and back to the shop, you caught Ray’s gaze as he stood by the car and waited for his boss. Whatever concern he showed for you faded when he blinked. How did he deal with this life? Would he ever walk away from it?

“I’ll pick you up after work then?” Bucky asked.

“Sure,” you said. You didn’t tell him when your shift ended, but he knew, didn’t he? “Thanks for lunch.”

“It was my pleasure, but one more thing.” Bucky stopped you before you could enter the shop. “This regular customer you mentioned earlier. How often does he stop in?”

He asked as if he had no idea and maybe he didn’t in this case. That assumption didn’t ease your worries. “Once a month,” you said, your stomach turning slightly. “Listen, the roses he tried to give to me, I gave them to him first. They were his usual order and I thought it would be nice gesture and I was just-”

His brows pinched a little as his hands gently framed your cheeks. “Kotyonok, why do you sound so upset?” He asked, his thumbs moving in a soothing motion as you took a deep breath. “Wait, are you scared that I’d be mad at you?”

“I… I don’t know,” you said. You didn’t necessarily think he’d be upset with you, but after his mood swings at lunch and everything else so far you weren't sure what to expect. “I just don't know.”

“No, no, no, I’m not mad at you. Why would I be mad that you were kind to another person? That’s one of the things I love about you. It drew me to you,” he assured you. You oddly felt better by his assurance. “I don’t want you to stop doing kind things for others because you’re worried it might upset me.”

“So, it doesn’t upset you?”

“You being you would never upset me,” he smiled. He had said more than once that he loved you as a person, so maybe he was telling the truth. “A man trying to give flowers to you while going through a break-up is, at the very least, a little strange.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” you said, not wanting to admit that he had a point and that you were slightly put off when Clark tried to give the roses to you.

“I’m also well aware that you don’t hit on any guy who comes into your shop, so I wouldn’t view any act of kindness to a customer as trying to get their attention.”

“That’s true,” you agreed. Even Ray had pointed out to you that you didn’t give guys in the shop the time of day. Why would you when most of them were buying flowers for someone else? “But I just wanted you to know.”

“I appreciate you telling me, but you have nothing to worry about. Just have a good rest of the day.” With a kiss to the corner of your mouth, he whispered, “I’ll be thinking of you until I see you again.”

You weren’t sure why your heart fluttered. Relief that Bucky reacted calmly to what you said? You didn’t dwell on it as he held the door open and smiled after you as you went back into the shop. It was time to concentrate on work again.

Mrs. Crandle smiled and waved to Bucky through the door. “Oh, he is a looker,” she winked. “How was lunch, dear?”

“The food was good and Bucky and I got to talk a bit, which was… nice,” you answered, glancing around the shop and wondering if the place was bugged, too. Could he get access to the shop? Letting you continue to work seemed too good to be true, but he’d have nothing to worry about if he had eyes and ears there, too. “He’s taking me shopping tonight.”

She clapped her hands. “Oh, that’s wonderful! And don’t you dare be modest. Let him spoil you.”

“I have a feeling he’ll spoil me even if I don't ask him to,” you said.

Your whole experience with Bucky was whether you wanted it or not, so why would he stop now?

As expected, Bucky arrived back at the shop a few hours later to pick you up. Instead of giving him the chance to go inside and speak to Mrs. Crandle again, you grabbed your bag and rushed out the door to greet him. He caught you easily when you nearly collided with him, and for the first time, you felt like you were intruding in his space instead of the other way around.

“Eager to see me?” He smiled, his voice teasing as he kept a hand on your shoulder and helped you into the vehicle when you didn’t immediately answer. “How was the rest of your shift? I hope no one else bothered you.”

Just you.

“It was uneventful. I got a lot done,” you replied, feeling a warmth spread through you from the normalcy of your afternoon. “And no one bothered me.” Your gaze flickered to him and he was hanging onto your every word. He also looked much more relaxed, like the moodiness at lunch never happened. “How about you? How was your day?”

“Also uneventful. A couple of boring calls. Kept thinking about you though and it got me through the day,” he said, slipping an arm around you as the car door closed. The way you two were speaking to each other sounded almost normal. Checking in on each other, seeing how the other was doing. “Steve asked about that double date.”

“I’m sure he’s excited for that,” you said, wondering if that poor coat check girl had any idea.

“We both are. You can find a dress for that, too,” he smiled fondly. “In fact, what would you think of me getting you a new wardrobe when you move in? Your style, your choice on everything. You name it.”

You raised an eyebrow, a mixture of surprise and uncertainty washing over you. “Is there something wrong with my current wardrobe?” You hadn’t done anything to deserve a whole new set of clothes and you hoped he wasn’t suggesting it to mold you more to his liking.

“Nothing wrong with it at all. You have great taste and I just want to spoil you,” he said, running a finger down your side. This was the man who let you go into his exclusive club wearing a dressed down outfit simply because it was you, so he’d probably let you get away with any sort of wardrobe you wanted. “Do you know how ravishing you look right now?”

“I’m not ravishing. I’m in my work clothes,” you muttered.

“You are ravishing,” he said, moving his finger back up as you shivered. “We should get some stargazer lilies for your first night in our home. I could strip you down, lay you out on our bed, and brush one of the petals along your skin.”

You inhaled sharply and closed your eyes, trying not to picture him spreading you out on a luxurious bed. He would say something like that when he was right in your space and you had nowhere to go. The man went from zero to sixty in seconds. No doubt he could feel you tremble and knew your heart was racing.

“Bet it’ll feel soft against your nipples,” he whispered, exhaling against your ear. “And your pussy.”

Your next breath was shallow, but you managed not to whimper. “Where are we going shopping?” You asked evenly, hoping to get to the destination sooner rather than later.

You stubbornly kept your eyes shut when he chuckled. “You’re changing the topic because you’re thinking about it, aren’t you? Worried you’ll get your panties soaked before we get to the shop?” He questioned, your heart thudding. You didn’t want to think about it at all. You wanted out of the car so you could properly breathe again. “I’m sorry. I’m not playing nice, am I? We’re going to one of your favorite stores and you can pick out whatever you want.”

You’d no doubt look at the price tags out of habit since you shopped on a budget and bought your nicer pieces on sale. “Do you ever really play nice?” You asked, opening your eyes. “One moment you’re being vulnerable and talking about your family and the next time I see you you’re talking about sleeping with me. I’m shocked the whiplash hasn’t scrambled my brain.”

The image of him destroying the utensil at lunch like it was nothing flashed in your mind for some reason. And him and his gang beating up John. Just how strong was he? Was he a killer?

“Sometimes we’ll talk about something tough or serious and the next it may be something more fun or intimate. That’s part of being in a relationship,” he said. If only it were an authentic relationship. “I want that with you, telling you what’s on my mind and how I feel.”

If he cared about what was on your mind or how you felt, he’d back off and let you have a bit of space. “Relationships are built on mutual respect and trust,” you said. Did he not see that the mutual respect wasn't there since he pushed for things to be his way? And trust was something he couldn't force no matter how powerful he was.

“I understand that. You also said a first date was getting to know each other and seeing if there's a mutual connection. I'm opening up to you, letting you get to know me. I’m getting to know you, too, beyond the things I knew in advance,” he said. What was he learning about you that he didn’t already know? “And you can't tell me you don't feel something for me.”

“Do you want me to tell you what you want to hear, Bucky? That I want you and want to be with you?” You asked. Even if you did develop feelings for him, it would have to be classified as some form of stockholm syndrome. And even then, strong feelings wouldn’t be enough. He wanted everything from you. “That I don’t want anyone else?”

The hand along your side crept up to your neck, tension heightening when he gently squeezed. He loved putting his hand around your throat. “You do want me, you do want to be with me, you’ll never want anyone else once I have you and I know you love how much I want you,” he spoke with confidence, like he could make the words come true as you took your next breath. “Should I check your panties before we go inside and feel how wet they are?”

You needed to distract him. Fight him. Do something. “What’s your love language?” You blurted out. “Physical Touch?”

“What?” He whispered, your heart still pounding when he slowly moved his hand away from your throat.

“Your love language. You constantly touch me when I’m close to you, so I guessed Physical Touch,” you explained. He always had a hand on you.

He sat back with a pensive look. “No one has ever asked me that.”

“Oh,” you said as the car rolled to a stop. You blindly reached for the door handle. “Well, it’s something to think about if you don’t know.”

He held your arm when you tried to get out. “You express yourself through Acts of Service with loving gestures and helping with tasks, but what you crave is Quality Time because you value meaningful interactions and connecting with people on a more personal level.”

You nodded slowly. It was why you loved hanging out with your girlfriends. You cherished making memories with them.

“You also appreciate Words of Affirmation, even if compliments make you feel uncertain because you sometimes feel overlooked. The combination of those languages makes you feel seen and heard,” he continued, giving you a tender smile. “I can hear and see you if you let me.”

You found yourself unable to speak as he gauged your reaction, your throat tight as if gripped by an unseen force. He nailed it right on the head about your love languages, didn't he? “I need air,” you whispered, letting yourself out of the car once he let you go.

The tightness in your throat moved to your heart. Bucky saw and heard you in his own way, didn't he? Not just as a passing thought but because he genuinely believed he loved you, deeply and wholeheartedly. The more he sank his fangs in, the more venom he injected. You had to be your own antidote.

With a shake of your head, you glanced up at the shop. True to his word, it was one you loved. Another piece of yourself that would now be tied to him.

You jumped when Bucky appeared beside you and took your arm. “You okay?” He asked, studying your face with gentle eyes.

“Just fine,” you replied, smiling for his sake. “Let's go shopping.”

You walked into the boutique together, the air filled with a subtle mix of lavender and something sweet that made you feel right at home. The space was a blend of trendy and rustic, exuding charm and intimacy. Clothes lined the wooden shelves and vintage racks, showcasing a variety of styles that ranged from casual to bold. Delicate accessories sparkled in the soft light, inviting you to explore.

You could easily find the perfect dress for the winery here.

“Hello! Welcome to… Oh! Mr. Barnes,” the associate smiled, her heels clicking on the floor. She was a picture perfect example of style and beauty. “I have the back dressing room set up and I’ll be sure no one disturbs you or your girlfriend. It was sundresses you requested, correct?”

Bucky looked proud of himself. “Yes, the perfect sundress for my girl,” he smiled, his blue eyes sparkling as he looked at you. “And whatever dress you choose, you’ll need jewelry. Oh, and a clutch.”

“Girlfriend?” You asked. He must not have wanted a repeat of how the hostess treated the two of you at lunch. “Wait, you already have dresses selected for me to try on?”

“He called and gave us all the details. And we’ll make sure you have everything you need,” the associate promised as Bucky nudged you ahead of him to follow her. Was anyone else in the shop? “Would either of you like a water?”

“No thank you,” you said. You were never offered a water when you shopped there before, but you were never there with Bucky Barnes.

“Just let me know if you need anything at all,” she smiled, opening the dressing room door.

Bucky thanked her as he took a seat in one of the chairs across from the door, watching you expectantly. “If you don't like any of them, we can go somewhere else.”

“I’m sure they're fine,” you said, going into the room and shutting the door before he could say anything else.

Quickly slipping off your shoes, pants, and top, you turned your attention to a small rack with a range of sundresses. Checking each tag as you pushed through them, none of them on sale, it wasn't a surprise that they were all your size. And all something you'd consider wearing. After flipping through the dresses twice, you decided to try on a sleeveless white dress with small rosebuds. It would be nice for a vineyard.

Before you could put the dress on, the door opened. “Need any help?” Bucky asked as you spun around in your bra and underwear, his eyes slowly scanning your body before you had a chance to cover yourself.

“No. I…” you trailed off as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

He stared at you for what felt like an eternity before he breathed your name, want written all over his face. The dressing room felt small. Hot. You could hardly breathe as panic threatened to overwhelm you. And you couldn't do anything but step back as he stepped closer, a predator ready to capture his prey.

Your back hit the mirror when he brought a hand to your chin, your knees shaking as he leaned in. “You’re right about one thing,” he said in a husky tone. “I do crave Physical Touch. Yours.”

He pressed his lips to yours, keeping you still and giving you no chance to turn your head away. It was a light, feathering sort of kiss before his tongue flicked out to trace your lips. He teased you until you opened up for him and allowed his tongue to sweep into your mouth. You couldn't think as he groaned and continued his claim. It was only a matter of time until he claimed you completely.

Bucky pulled away a little, his free hand moving down your torso in a possessive path. “Fuck, you taste so sweet,” he rasped. You felt so small, your insides both frozen and melting from his touch. “Just wanna take you home and make you ride my face before I fuck you.”

You gasped when his knee moved between your legs, your hands flying up to hold his arms. He rocked his leg and you felt power in the motion, a promise of what was to come once he had you where he wanted you. “Bucky,” you whispered. The next word out of your mouth was smothered by his lips, but he didn't increase the urgency in his kisses. He took his time. Like the world could be burning around you and he’d let the flames take over as long as he was kissing you.

You bit back a whimper when he rocked his knee harder, the friction sending heat to your core. Another roll of his body and you were certain you felt the outline of his cock. Bringing a hand to his chest, you lightly pushed. It was already going too far. To your surprise, he broke the kiss. His eyes were still hungry though. “You said you want to hear me?” You asked breathlessly, your lip trembling when his thumb brushed it. “Then not here, please,” you whispered, praying he'd stop.

If he was going to have you, it wouldn't be in a dressing room.

“Right. Not for our first time.” He tipped his head back as he took a breath, no doubt trying to control himself. “Just one more kiss, Kotyonok. One more for me to dream about tonight,” he groaned, bringing his face back to yours for one more kiss with fervor. Just when you thought it would turn more ravenous, he shifted to something soft, tender. A feeling that had both of you shaking when it ended, but likely for different reasons.

You stayed upright when he stepped back and gave you space, but your legs still shook as he straightened up his clothes and looked you over once more. If he could devour you with a look... “Thank you.” He actually listened to you and didn't push it any further.

He glanced down as he adjusted his pants and you tried to avoid looking at the tent he began to sport. Horror filled you when your gaze went lower to the wet spot by his knee. He hadn't gotten you off, but you both knew he sparked some arousal within you. “Can’t wait ‘til you really make a mess on my pants,” he smirked, walking out just as quietly as he entered the tiny room.

Fighting back tears once he shut the door, you touched your lips. Bucky finally kissed you. Your mouth still tingled. You still felt him there.

Glancing at the rack of dresses, you wished he really was a sweet boyfriend trying to spoil you just because he could. But he hadn't given you a chance to pick them out yourself. He spoke for you, like you were a doll. It was just another piece he put in place for his twisted puzzle of your relationship.

What was wrong with you?

You pulled your clothes back on and flung the door open so hard it almost hit the wall. Bucky’s smug look immediately changed to concern when you walked out holding a sundress. “This one's fine,” you said in a flat tone.

“Are you sure?” He asked, sitting up more in his chair. “You didn't try it on, did you?”

“It’s the one I want,” you said, calling for the associate before Bucky had a chance to argue. You gave her a stiff smile when she joined you and handed over the garment, feeling Bucky’s eyes on you. “Whatever jewelry and handbag you think will go with this, I’ll take it. I trust your judgment.”

“Oh, this dress is lovely and we have the perfect accessories for this. Would you like to look at shoes as well? Or maybe something to go with any of the other dresses?” She asked, her eyes wide as you brushed past her. “Miss?”

“I’m sorry. I need to step outside,” you said, not wanting to be rude to her.

Bucky called after you, but you ignored him. You were furious with yourself. You let him kiss you and allowed some of his words to get under your skin. He didn't fuck you, but he still won, didn't he? And you were letting him. Just like with everything else.

You took two steps out of the shop before you felt a grip on your arm. “Woah. Slow down,” Bucky said, turning you to face him. “What’s wrong?”

Everything.

“It doesn't matter, but if you really want to see and hear me, please, pay attention,” you said, yanking your arm away. “I want to go home.”

“Why? Is it because that kiss meant something to you and you don't want to admit it?” He asked, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “If you're embarrassed that it made you wet, don't be. I'm flattered. Besides, it got me hard.”

Heat filled your cheeks and you wanted to smack him. There was a fine line between the delusion he had in his head and the reality of the situation. The tightrope you were walking was close to snapping. “I’m not embarrassed. I can't breathe.” You stepped back, trying to give yourself space. Was Ray watching from the car? “Everything in my life recently has revolved around you or you being there. Say what you want about me being lonely, it doesn't give you an excuse to take over.”

Bucky’s smile slipped, like he was really seeing how bothered you were. “I told you I just want to love you. And you enjoy Quality Time.”

“Quality Time when we agree upon it. And love itself should be the thing to take my breath away, not you smothering me,” you gently stated.

“I’m not trying to smother you.” He shifted like he was the one uncomfortable, his gaze flicking to the ground. “I… I know you can't breathe,” he said, lifting a hand as if to reach out before he dropped it and took a deep breath. “That’s why I'm leaving you alone tomorrow,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You're what?” You asked in disbelief, catching the hint of vulnerability in his eyes as his shoulders dropped. He hadn't left you alone since he broke in. Why in the world would he stop now?

“I was going to bring it up when I dropped you off.” His hand worked its way through his hair. “I’ve been thinking about it and talking and… I’m smothering you. I know I am. Rearranging your schedule, making you meet my friends, and everything else. So…” He reached for you this time and took your hand. “I’m giving you a breather and I’m not going to be around tomorrow. No surprise visits. No calls. Maybe a text, but nothing more.”

You blinked. “So, we won't see each other tomorrow?” You tried not to get too excited. It was only a day, but between that and the girls day that was still something. You had to go the cautiously optimistic route again and take what you got.

But you also couldn't help but wonder why he was really giving you that space. Did Ray or someone say something to him? Was this another ploy to keep you in line?

“You won't see me. God knows I’ll miss you, but it's just a day, right?” He squeezed your hand. “Maybe you’ll miss me, too.”

“I appreciate you giving me that space,” you said sincerely. He needed that space, too, even if he didn't believe it. “And maybe I will.”

“We won't have to miss each other much longer once we're together in the penthouse,” he said, his tone soft and your heart sinking. “Will you answer one thing: Did that kiss mean something to you?”

You didn't want to answer that. If you denied it, it would be a lie or he’d either see through it or snap. If you confirmed it, it would feed him more hope. You still had to examine your feelings because you were afraid and you couldn't think with him staring at you with those longing eyes.

“It meant something,” you answered, not expanding on what exactly it meant when he exhaled. It wasn't smart to let him decipher it how he wished because he could use it against you later.

He took your breath away once more when he pulled you close and brushed his lips against yours. Just as quickly as he started, he stopped and brushed his nose against yours. Any passerby would think it was a sweet moment between a couple making up from an argument. “Thank you,” he whispered, his thumb moving along the racing pulse in your wrist. “Come back inside, please? Pick out a few things for real and then I’ll take you home so you can relax.”

You remembered that the bugs were still in your apartment, which took some more of your enthusiasm away. But if Bucky was really going to leave you alone tomorrow, you’d have to appreciate the time to yourself. Maybe you could pack a bag and get out of the city even sooner than planned.

It wouldn't hurt to try, right? What was the worst that could happen? Making him freak out over your safety? That could be bad.

“Okay. A few things for real and then home,” you agreed.

“That’s my girl.” He turned and paused at the door with a smile. “Can I at least help you try on the dress? Or you can model it for me and I'll tell you how beautiful you are.”

You smiled back a little. “Don't push your luck,” you said, missing the pair of blue eyes that watched you and Bucky go back into the shop.

So, a little bit of action. 😏 Will it be enough to tide Bucky over? Is he really going to leave you alone for a day? Who was watching you? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[unboundprompts]

hey! i was wondering if you had any advice for writing a "bully" tough guy character with a hidden heart of gold that will be redeemed later on in the story? i wanted to have their motivation being seeing their bullying as making people stronger (for maybe a reason like from being bullied for being weak themselves) but idk how i would begin to write this

How to Write a Bully with Opportunity for a Redemption

Establish a Compelling Backstory

Bullying History: Flesh out the character's past. Perhaps they were bullied themselves, leading them to believe that by bullying others, they can instill strength and resilience. This creates a cycle of pain that they think they're breaking.

Family Dynamics: Consider their family situation. Maybe they have a tough home life that forces them to adopt a hard exterior, believing vulnerability is a weakness.

Defensive Mechanism: Make it clear that their bullying is a defense mechanism. They may fear being seen as weak or unworthy, so they project toughness to avoid being hurt again.

Create Layers of Personality

Contradictions: Show moments where the tough guy’s softer side shines through, such as helping someone in a subtle way or expressing empathy toward a friend. This builds intrigue and hints at their hidden depth.

Hobbies or Interests: Give them a passion that contrasts with their tough exterior, such as caring for animals, art, or even an interest in literature. This helps humanize them and shows they have more to offer than just their bullying behavior.

Develop Strong Relationships

Friendships: Explore the dynamics of their friendships. Do they have a best friend who sees through their tough exterior? This friend can be a source of support and also push the character toward redemption.

Conflict with Others: Show how their bullying impacts their relationships with other characters. This can create tension and give other characters a reason to want them to change.

Establish Their Motivation for Bullying

Internal Monologue: Use the bully’s thoughts to explain their perspective. Allow them to rationalize their behavior with phrases like “I’m just toughening them up” or “They’ll thank me later.” This internal justification provides insight into their mindset and shows that they genuinely believe in their method.

Dialogue with Others: Show conversations where the bully explains their philosophy to friends or peers. They might say something like, “You have to be tough to survive. I’m just giving them a reality check,” or “Weakness only gets you hurt.” This can illustrate their conviction that they’re helping rather than harming.

Interactions with Victims: When the bully interacts with their victims, allow moments where they express a twisted sense of encouragement. For instance, they might say something like, “You’ll thank me when you’re stronger,” or give unsolicited advice on how to handle being bullied, further solidifying their misguided belief.

In-Scene Justification: As the bully corners a victim, they might say, “You think this is tough? You should’ve seen what I went through. I’m making you stronger. You’ll thank me when you can stand up to people like me.”

Aftermath Reflection: After an intense encounter, the bully reflects, “Maybe I pushed them too hard. But if they break now, they’ll never survive out there. I can’t let them be weak.”

Confrontation with a Mentor: In a scene with a mentor or friend, the bully might insist, “I’m not a bad guy. I’m doing this for them. They need to be ready for the real world. They’ll understand one day.”

Build Moments of Realization

Catalyst for Change: Identify key moments that can serve as turning points for the character. Perhaps they witness the consequences of their actions firsthand, such as a target of their bullying breaking down.

Moment of Kindness: Have them perform a small act of kindness that contradicts their tough persona. This could be something like defending someone who’s being bullied or comforting a classmate in distress.

Craft a Redemption Arc

Struggle with Self-Perception: As they start to recognize their wrongs, explore their internal conflict. They might grapple with feelings of guilt or shame, unsure how to change.

Facing the Consequences: Introduce scenarios where they face the repercussions of their past actions. This can lead to a moment of humility, where they apologize or make amends.

Support from Others: Allow other characters to help guide their transformation. Perhaps someone who was bullied approaches them and expresses that they see potential in them, encouraging a new path.

Highlight the Heart of Gold

Acts of Courage: In the climax, have them step up to protect those they’ve bullied, showcasing their newfound understanding of strength and vulnerability.

Positive Impact: Illustrate how their change positively affects others. This can be through friendships, mentorships, or even inspiring other characters to change as well.

End on a Hopeful Note

New Identity: Conclude the character's arc by showing them embracing their softer side while still retaining the tough-guy persona, proving that they can be both strong and kind.

Forgiveness: Allow for forgiveness from those they’ve wronged, reinforcing the theme of redemption and growth.

Example Character Arc:

Initial Setup: Jake is known as the school’s tough guy, bullying anyone he deems weak, believing it will make them stronger.

Backstory Reveal: Through flashbacks, we see Jake bullied mercilessly for being small and weak, leading him to adopt his aggressive persona.

Turning Point: After witnessing the severe impact of his bullying on a classmate, Jake begins to reflect on his actions.

Redemption Moment: In a climactic scene, Jake defends the same classmate from a new bully, proving he’s changed.

Resolution: By the end, he’s mentoring younger students, using his experiences to help others find their strength rather than tear them down.

[tanjamikaelson]

BEST FRIEND'S BROTHER - CHAPTER 5

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 5: | MIDSUMMERS |

Shortly after you arrived at the Midsummer’s party, your mother eagerly pulled you and Rafe aside for a picture. Her voice was filled with excitement, and she positioned you both perfectly, aiming to capture that flawless, picturesque moment. Rafe’s arm slipped around your shoulder, his fingers resting lightly against your skin, but you could feel the tension radiating from him. The stiffness in his posture, the way he held himself, spoke volumes. It was as if he was just waiting for the ordeal to be over, the tight smile on his face barely masking the turmoil underneath.

You knew he was struggling. Even though you had matched your dress to his suit—a subtle declaration of something shared between you—the reality of your situation loomed large. Sarah, your best friend and his sister was an invisible barrier between you. And no matter how much you wanted to be with him, you both knew it wasn’t that simple. As much as Rafe appreciated the gesture, the symbolism of your coordinated outfits, he was weighed down by the knowledge that you could never truly be together in the way he longed for, not while Sarah stood in the middle of it all.

He was already thinking that maybe he needed to distance himself from you. Maybe that was the only way to keep things from spiraling out of control. The thought gnawed at him, his mind churning even as he stood beside you, pretending for the camera. You sensed his internal battle, the way he seemed almost desperate to leave, and it hurt more than you wanted to admit. When your mother finally finished taking pictures, Rafe left without a word, slipping away before you could say anything, before you could even hope for a compliment. You felt a pang of disappointment, the sting of rejection settling deep in your chest. It felt stupid to even hope he’d say something nice, acknowledge how you had dressed to match him, how much effort you’d put in to show you cared.

Your eyes followed him as he walked away, weaving through the crowd until he joined his friends. You watched as his face transformed, a smile breaking across his lips, his laughter loud and carefree at whatever joke they were sharing. It was like he’d flipped a switch, turning into a different version of himself—one that was easy, light, untouched by the weight that had been pulling him down just moments before. You stood there, feeling a strange emptiness as you observed him, part of you wishing you could be part of that world, where things weren’t so complicated.

“Look how great these turned out, sweetheart!” your mother’s voice pulled you back, but you barely registered her words. She held out her phone, swiping through the photos she’d just taken, but your eyes kept drifting back to Rafe, your thoughts wrapped up in the space between you.

“Mmhmm,” you murmured absently, not even glancing at the screen. Your gaze remained fixed on Rafe, the way his eyes crinkled as he laughed, his entire demeanor so different from when he’d been standing beside you. Something about it twisted painfully in your chest.

Before your mother could notice your distraction, you abruptly excused yourself, muttering something about needing a drink. You made your way to the bar, grabbing a glass of champagne and hoping the alcohol would help numb the ache inside you, and blur the sharp edges of everything you were feeling. You took a sip, then another, the bubbles fizzing against your tongue as you tried to lose yourself in the small, meaningless ritual of drinking.

You needed to forget. You needed to stop thinking about him, about the way his arm had felt around you, about the way he hadn’t said a word before walking away. Maybe if you drank enough, you’d be able to let go of the disappointment, the hurt that had settled like a stone in your stomach.

Sarah found you quickly after, her face bright with excitement, oblivious to the storm of emotions brewing inside you. She grabbed your hand and pulled you onto the dance floor, her laughter infectious as she spun you around. You forced yourself to smile, to laugh along with her, pretending that everything was fine. For a little while, it almost worked. You danced, letting the music and the movement take you away, letting Sarah’s joy cover the cracks in your heart.

But when the music slowed and your feet began to ache, you made your way to the edge of the dance floor, standing alone beside one of the tables. You picked up another glass of champagne, hoping it would keep your mind from wandering back to him to the way he looked at you, to the way he made you feel. You took a sip, the cool liquid doing little to calm the storm inside you.

You were staring blankly at the bubbles in your glass when you felt someone approach you. Turning around, you were surprised to see your mother walking toward you with a familiar figure trailing behind her. “Y/N, look who I found,” she said cheerfully, stepping aside to reveal your ex. “He’s back in the Outer Banks.”

Your stomach twisted, the sight of him making your skin crawl. You forced a tight, bitter smile, hating how clueless your mother was, how she had no idea what really happened between the two of you. The pain he had caused, the betrayal you had felt—it was like she was parading it around, blissfully unaware.

“Maybe you two can continue where you left off,” she suggested, her voice light as if she was proposing something harmless, something sweet and innocent.

“No way. Definitely not,” you replied sharply, the words coming out more forcefully than you intended. Your mother’s face fell, her brow furrowing in confusion, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t care, not with him standing there, looking at you with that arrogant, wicked smirk.

“I think she’s already seeing someone else,” your ex said smoothly, his eyes glinting with malicious satisfaction. The way he looked at you made your skin prickle with rage.

You shot him a death glare, feeling the anger rise like bile in your throat. This was exactly what you were afraid of—him trying to ruin things for you, spreading lies just to get under your skin.

Your mother’s eyes widened in surprise. “You do? Who?” she asked, turning to you with a mix of curiosity and concern.

“You might know him—” your ex began, his tone mocking, but you cut him off sharply, your voice trembling with fury.

“Shut up, Y/EX/N,” you snarled, not caring about the people around you, the way heads turned at your outburst.

He sneered at you, his words dripping with venom. “What? You don’t want your mother to know how Rafe got into your good graces?”

That was the breaking point. The anger exploded inside you, blinding and hot, and before you knew it, your hand was swinging through the air, slapping him hard across the face. The sound echoed sharply, and you saw the red mark bloom on his cheek, a perfect imprint of your rage.

“Y/N!” your mother gasped, her voice high with shock and dismay, but you didn’t wait to hear what else she had to say. You turned on your heel and stormed off, your heart pounding in your chest, your hands shaking with the adrenaline coursing through you.

You fled inside, your steps quick and unsteady as you headed to the bathroom. Once inside, you locked the door behind you and sank against it, the tears spilling over, hot and unrelenting. Your body shook with sobs, the force of them ripping through you, tearing apart the composure you had tried so hard to keep. The makeup you had spent so much time perfecting was ruined, mascara streaking down your cheeks, your eyes red and swollen.

It felt like you had been there for hours, trapped in the small, suffocating space, your mind spinning with everything that had happened. The way he had looked at you, the things he had said—it was like he was determined to tear down everything you were trying to build, to drag you back into the darkness of the past. He had always been like that, manipulative and cruel, turning everything around to make you feel like you were the one in the wrong.

Eventually, the sobs subsided, leaving you drained and hollow. You looked at yourself in the mirror, wincing at the reflection staring back at you. The girl in the glass looked broken, her makeup smeared, her eyes puffy and red. You grabbed a wet tissue and tried to wipe away the worst of it, but it didn’t help much. You looked just as wrecked as you felt inside.

You knew you couldn’t stay hidden in the bathroom forever, no matter how much you wanted to. You had to go back out there, face the music, face him. But you couldn’t stay at the party, not with him lurking around, not with everyone watching, whispering. You needed to leave, to get out, to breathe.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the door and slipped back outside. You tried to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible, hoping to avoid any more confrontations, but as you moved through the crowd, you felt eyes on you. Not just any eyes—his eyes.

Rafe noticed you the second you stepped back into the light. He had been wondering where you disappeared to, his gaze sweeping the crowd until he spotted you. As you came closer, he saw the smudged makeup, and the puffy eyes, and it hit him like a punch to the gut. You had been crying. His mind raced with questions, his heart pounding with a mix of anger and worry. Had he done this? Was it because of him? Or was it something else, something he couldn’t protect you from?

He moved toward you, his steps quick and determined, his presence like a shield as he closed the distance between you. His tall frame blocked out the noise and chaos of the party, making you feel small and protected in his shadow. He looked down at you, his blue eyes searching your face, filled with concern.

“What happened? Have you been crying?” Rafe’s voice was gentle but insistent, and you could see the worry etched in the lines of his forehead.

You turned your gaze away, not wanting him to see the raw vulnerability in your eyes. “It’s fine, Rafe,” you murmured, trying to keep your voice steady, but the way it cracked on the last word betrayed you.

“It’s not fine, Y/N,” Rafe said firmly. He reached out, his fingers lifting your chin, guiding your eyes back to his. The touch was so tender, so unexpected, that it made your heart ache. “Why did you cry?”

You hesitated, the words caught in your throat. You wanted to tell him, to let him know how your ex had tried to humiliate you, how he’d tried to expose whatever fragile thing was blossoming between you and Rafe. But you knew what would happen if you did. Rafe would lash out, his anger erupting like a storm, and you didn’t want that. Not here, not now.

“Can we go somewhere we can be alone?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe didn’t hesitate. He grabbed your hand, his grip firm but careful, and led you back inside. You followed him down a quiet hallway, away from the prying eyes and the noise of the party. He opened a door and pulled you into a small, dimly lit room, closing the door behind you. It felt like a sanctuary, a place where the rest of the world couldn’t reach you.

“Will you tell me now?” Rafe’s voice was filled with concern, his eyes locked on yours as he waited, his body tense with anticipation.

“If you promise me you won’t do anything,” you said, your voice trembling. You needed to know he wouldn’t make things worse, wouldn’t go storming off to confront your ex and turn the party into a battlefield.

Rafe’s jaw tightened. “It depends—”

“No, promise me you won’t do anything,” you insisted, cutting him off. Your eyes were pleading, begging him to understand how much you needed this.

Rafe let out a long, frustrated sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Fine. I promise. Now tell me.” His voice was demanding but soft, filled with a worry that made your heart squeeze painfully.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. “It was my ex again.” You watched as his eyes darkened, the flash of anger flickering there, but he stayed silent, waiting for you to continue. “He told my mom there’s something going on between you and me.”

Rafe’s eyes bore into yours, his gaze intense. “And there isn’t?” His question hung in the air, heavy with the unspoken feelings between you.

You shook your head slowly. “No, there is. But I don’t want him going around and saying that to everybody.”

Rafe nodded, his jaw clenched. “Yeah, I understand.” He paused, and you could see the conflict in his eyes. “What do you want me to do? I can—” He started to turn toward the door, his body taut with purpose, but you grabbed his arm, stopping him.

“I told you not to do anything,” you said, your voice firm, even as your heart pounded in your chest.

“But—” Rafe began, his voice laced with frustration, but you cut him off again.

“Not here, at least. I don’t want anyone to blame you for everything.” Your voice softened, your fingers tightening around his arm, needing him to understand.

Rafe stared at you, his eyes searching yours. Finally, he sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit. “Okay.” He nodded, though his eyes still burned with anger. “But I don’t want to see you crying because of that piece of shit ever again. Do you understand?”

You nodded, your lips curving into a small, grateful smile. “I do.” The fierceness in his voice, the way he was willing to hold back for your sake, made your heart swell. He cared, really cared, in a way that was rare and raw.

Rafe’s lips twitched into a smile, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Good. I was also worried you cried because of me.”

You frowned, tilting your head slightly. “Why would I cry because of you?”

“Because I was kinda ignoring you when we arrived,” he admitted, his voice low, almost sheepish.

“Yeah, you did.” You crossed your arms over your chest, feeling the sting of that rejection all over again. “Why did you?”

Rafe took a deep breath, his eyes dropping to the floor for a moment before meeting yours again. “We can never be together the way I want.” His voice was filled with quiet desperation, his words heavy with longing. “Not when Sarah’s in the middle.”

“That’s not true,” you said, shaking your head, your voice steady and sure. “We can. We just have to figure out how.”

Rafe’s eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across his face before it was replaced by something softer, warmer. He smiled at you, a genuine, relieved smile. “I also didn’t tell you how beautiful you look in that dress.”

Your cheeks flushed, heat creeping up your neck at the compliment. “Thank you. So do you,” you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe stepped closer, his breath warm against your skin as he leaned in, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down your spine. “I wish I could take it off of you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, your heart racing at his words. “Rafe...”

“I know, I know,” Rafe nodded, his eyes filled with understanding, though there was a hunger there, barely contained. “We can’t do it, not right now. But I have to at least do this—” He reached up, cupping your face gently, his thumb brushing against your cheek before his lips met yours.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative like he was testing the waters. You were caught off guard, your mind spinning as you processed the sensation of his lips on yours, the warmth and softness of his touch. Then, without thinking, you kissed him back, your hands reaching up to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepened, growing more urgent, more hungry. Rafe’s hands moved down, his fingers brushing along your sides, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He grabbed your hips, pulling you flush against him, his mouth pressing harder against yours. His hands slipped under your dress, his fingers gripping and squeezing your butt, drawing a soft moan from your lips.

The sound seemed to snap you both out of the haze you were lost in. You broke the kiss, breathlessly, your forehead resting against his as you tried to steady yourself. Rafe’s hands slid up to your waist, holding you close, his breath coming in heavy, ragged gasps.

He looked at you, his eyes dark with desire, his voice a strained whisper. “I have to keep myself in control, otherwise...” He trailed off, his grip on your waist tightening as he tried to reign in the desire that was coursing through him.

You nodded, your heart still racing, your body aching with the need to be closer to him. But you knew he was right. This wasn’t the time or place. Not yet. You both needed to be careful, to protect whatever fragile thing was growing between you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice shaky but sincere.

Rafe smiled softly, his thumb brushing against your waist in a soothing gesture. “Anything for you, Y/N.”

After you and Rafe returned to the party, it felt like you were walking on air. The laughter and music blurred into a distant hum as your thoughts kept drifting back to what had just happened between you. Your fingers brushed against your lips, still tingling from the feel of his kiss, the memory of it fresh and vivid in your mind. You’d imagined kissing Rafe so many times, but nothing compared to the reality of it—how soft his lips were, the way his breath mingled with yours, how he’d held you like he never wanted to let go.

You glanced over at him, your heart fluttering as you watched him rejoin his friends. He seemed calm, almost casual, but there was a spark in his eyes, a trace of the intensity that had burned between you just moments ago. He caught your gaze from across the room, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile, and your cheeks heated as the memory of your kiss flashed through your mind again.

It was the first kiss you’d ever shared, and it felt like the world had shifted beneath your feet. There was something almost surreal about it, like you were still trying to wrap your head around the fact that it had actually happened. The way he’d looked at you, the way he’d touched you—it was more than you’d ever dared to hope for. The kiss was gentle at first, hesitant as if he was afraid you’d pull away. But when you kissed him back, and felt his lips press more firmly against yours, it was like something clicked into place.

Your skin still buzzed with the memory of his touch, his hands gripping your hips, his fingers exploring your body with a desperation that mirrored your own. It was like he couldn’t get enough of you, and the thought sent a shiver down your spine. You wondered if he felt the same way now if he was as caught up in the memory of your kiss as you were.

You tried to focus on the party, on the people around you, but it was impossible. Every time someone spoke to you, every time you tried to join in on a conversation, your mind wandered back to Rafe. To the way his eyes had darkened with desire, to the sound of your name on his lips, to the way he’d made you feel like you were the only person in the world.

You wished you could talk to someone about it, and share the excitement and confusion swirling inside you. But who could you tell? Sarah, your best friend, would never understand. She’d be furious if she knew what was going on between you and Rafe. And that thought tugged at the back of your mind, a shadow that darkened the glow of your memories. You were happy, but you were also terrified—terrified of what would happen if Sarah found out, terrified of what this all meant.

Rafe seemed to be handling things better than you were. You watched as he laughed and joked with his friends, his easy confidence back in place. But every now and then, his gaze would flicker over to you, and in those brief, stolen glances, you saw the truth. He was thinking about it, too. About you, about that kiss. About everything that had changed between you in the span of a heartbeat.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, trying to push past the swirling mess of emotions inside you. You needed to get a grip, to figure out what you were going to do next. You couldn’t keep walking this tightrope, teetering between your feelings for Rafe and your loyalty to Sarah. Something had to give.

But for now, all you could do was relive that kiss, the way it had felt to finally have him close, to feel his lips against yours, to know that he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. And as the night went on, you clung to that memory, letting it wrap around you like a warm, comforting blanket. Whatever happened next, you’d always have that moment, that perfect, fleeting kiss that had changed everything.

TAGS: @wearemadeofstardust0 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @thepopcultureaddict @deeznuggetsbebussin

[heartinhyacinth]

Listen, I love the idea of Hua Cheng finally getting to propose to his beloved special someone after 800 long-awaited years (and correct his previous blunder haha), but hear me out…

After Hua Cheng’s year of absence, hualian reunite, spend some blissful days soaking up each other’s company at the small cottage Xie Lian built on mount taicang, then decide to take a trip to ghost city. They could use the dice, of course, but it’s such a nice autumn day and days as such have become dear to them.

They’re snugged up close in the step-litter when Xie Lian casually asks, “San Lang, wanna get married?” He wears his usual gentle smile—the one he would use as if he were asking if Hua Cheng was feeling hungry or if he’d like to take a stroll through the maple trees.

But there is also the unmissable twinkle of amusement that is present, which Hua Cheng uses to convince himself that Xie Lian is in a silly mood and surely this is just payback—Xie Lian will confirm it any second now. But it doesn’t come. Five seconds, ten, fifteen, and the confirmation does not come.

So Hua Cheng simply sits there, expression bordering between pure terror and pure ecstasy as he tries to dissect the situation for any sign of its true reality. With breathy giggles, Xie Lian finally has mercy on the poor ghost, “You don’t have to say yes, San Lang—I can take it.” Despite his words, it’s exceedingly obvious by the humor in his tone that they’re both aware heaven and earth would sooner turn to dust, and with that, Hua Cheng finally regains control of his brain. “It would…” he takes a deep breath, nearly a millennia of longing crowding his throat all at once, “It would be my greatest honor, your highness”. Xie Lian’s smile brightens and he takes Hua Cheng’s hands in his own, “good—because no more dying, okay?”

The idea of Hua Cheng’s heart and soul asking him to spend their existence together—of Xie Lian affirming that he chooses Hua Cheng and wants him as his beloved forever and always, wants to walk by his side till the end—it’s just…too much to handle. (Him saying yes to Hua Cheng’s proposal would also achieve this but you get the idea).

Bonus: Hua Cheng fully planned to ask him during that same trip but Xie Lian beat him to it

[korrasera]

None of those points actually excuse anyone.

There are plenty of examples of fake leftist cosplayers who shouted genocide Joe and actively tried to discourage voting. We can criticize Democrat strategy all day long and it still doesn't change the fact that fake leftists played their part in discouraging people from voting. I'm not going to blame the entire election on them, but they played their part and now they're all busy whining about how it wasn't their fault that Trump won.

Also, people don't vote to take a sledgehammer to the system, they vote to change things in the hopes that the next thing will be better. And if there is no better thing, that's when despair kicks in and they just don't vote. That's why every incumbent party facing election in a developed country lost vote share this year, something that's never happened before.

The equation is fairly simple. When the economic situation sucks, people want a change. The problem isn't that people want to destroy the system, the problem is that they're not educated well enough to know that sitting out and letting Trump win will make things much, much worse.

About Gaza, the United States doesn't have the power to stop Netanyahu and never did. Anyone who thinks that doesn't actually understand how international politics works or what the US relationship with Israel is.

Israel is a soveriegn state and is not some sort of vassal that does the bidding of the US. They're going to do what they want and Netanyahu has demonstrated that clearly. The most we could do is to use our leverage to push Netanyahu to stop the genocide.

Biden's administration did almost everything they could to exercise that leverage. Personally, I would have liked to see an official end to any kind of offensive aid to Israel, but they still created a de facto stop to that supply when Biden introduced massive delays in the processing of offensive aid to the Israeli military. Delays that will probably get removed now that Trump is going to take office.

And yes, if Harris had gotten elected then she almost certainly would have continued putting pressure on Netanyahu to stop the genocide. Which is far better than the fact that Trump has openly said he's going to accelerate it.

If you base on your decisions on the idea that the US could just flip a switch and stop Netanyahu, you're watching a 90's political thriller, not paying attention to reality.

And finally, you're dead wrong about the idea of left vs right rules. You don't beat the Republicans by being more authoritarian than they are. You don't beat them by rebroadcasting propaganda. You beat them by reaching out to places where people are isolated and uninformed so you can offer real education about politics.

The right isn't getting stronger. We're just failing to educate people who would vote on the left if we didn't abandon them to they braying of a bunch of fake leftist cosplayers or let them starve in information deserts.

We tried to warn you, and you wouldn’t listen to us over the sound of your own self-righteousness. You must be so proud of yourselves.

[heyheydidjaknow]

After a very long week of diving headfirst into this fandom I think it’s only right that the champagne bottle we smash into this here ship is a four thousand word Chuuya x reader. Here’s to what I’m sure will be another few years of this, everyone; hope everyone is down.

Candies

He was glaring at you.

You had no idea when he got on the train. You did not care enough to wonder. What you knew was that he— the man in the hat on the opposite side of the train car— had been looking at you for the past three stops, and while you were fairly certain that you had no idea who he was, you were almost as certain that whoever he thought you were had another thing coming from how intensely he was watching you. Sure, he had the decency to look embarrassed by his staring, but that in no way stopped him from looking at you like you had something to apologize for. It was disconcerting. It was borderline creepy. But neither of you moved, because it was a train, and the two of you would not see each other again anyway.

The train slowed to a stop. Most people filed off. You did not. Neither did the man. You checked your watch, head falling back as you considered the pros and cons of waiting for the next train. You would have to eat dinner late, but you would not have to wonder why exactly he seemed to hate you this much for nothing.

You heard the rustling of clothing next to you. “Excuse me.”

You opened your eyes to the man. You took him in, identified any features that might be helpful for a police report: cold eyes, reddish hair, too many layers. Pretty, but not reassuring. You pulled your headphones off, fearing the worst. “May I help you?”

A pause.

You smiled tentatively. “Is something wrong?”

“I’ll give you five hundred thousand yen if you’ll go out with me.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

Reality seemed to catch up with him. “Shit. Uh.” He pulled his hat off, fiddling with the brim as he lowered his eyes. “Is that too little? I can go higher.”

“Do you think I’m a hooker?”

“Huh?”

You leaned away from him a bit. “What kind of thing is that to ask someone? ‘What’s your price?’ Seriously?”

The realization seemed to strike him like a baseball bat to the head. He immediately backpedaled. “That’s not— shit, I mean, that’s not what I meant to—“ he stammered. “I— no, I didn’t mean anything like that!”

“Yeah?” You raised your eyebrows. “That work for most people, asking them what they charge for a night? For fuck’s sake, man.”

“Hey!” He sat up, defensive. “I never said I wanted to take you home!”

You crossed your arms. “Then what exactly are you trying to do?”

“Ask you on a date!”

“You sure have a funny way of doing it.”

He huffed, face red. “Look,” he grumbled, “I don’t ask many people on dates; I’m trying my best here.”

“You could just ask me,” you pointed out. “You could ask me in a way that doesn’t involve offering me money.”

He rolled his eyes, seemingly— and audaciously— annoyed. “I can’t just walk up to a stranger and ask them on a date. Why would you go? You don’t know me; what if I’m a creep? How do you know if I’m worth the time?”

An incredulous smile crept onto your lips. “And you thought that offering me money would make you seem less creepy?”

“At least then you have a reason to show up! At least then I have a financial interest in showing you a good time!” He buried his face in his hands. “It took me a while to get this far and my stop is next and I do not have the time nor ability to actually woo you.”

The absurdity of this whole situation— the sight of an extravagantly dressed pretty boy bemoaning his romantic failings— was starting to get to you. “This all seems like a lot for someone you just met.”

He sat up quickly, steam practically pouring from his ears. “Well,” he explained seemingly in an attempt to regain some composure, “I may not know you yet, but I know that I’ve never seen anyone who looks as good as you do, and we’re on a train; I may never get the chance to see you again if I don’t do something right this second.”

You grinned. “Really?”

“Really. I am fucking this up.”

“A bit,” you agreed. “But you’re bringing it back around, calling me hot.”

He brightened. “I am?”

You shrugged. “More or less, yeah.”

His hands were shaking. You wondered how long they had been doing that. “Well,” he mumbled, “does that mean your answer isn’t a hard no?”

You leaned back in your seat. “I can be convinced,” you said. “Try again.”

He cleared his throat. “Hello.” He made eye contact with you again, the sharpness you had assumed was being weaponized against you seemingly inherent in his gaze. You tried, for a moment, to make out what color his eyes were, but the answer seemed to elude you. “My name is Nakahara Chuuya.”

“Hello, Nakahara Chuuya.” You crossed your legs. “See, this is better. Keep going.”

He gave you a confused look. You liked him, you decided. “Well,” he continued, disgruntled, “I couldn’t help but notice you. You’re easy to see.”

“Interesting word choice, but alright.”

He shot you a look. “You’re nice to look at. Is that better?”

Your smile softened. “Much. Keep going.”

He looked down at his hat. “I was wondering,” he continued, “if you were already spoken for.”

You snorted. “Spoken for?”

“Single,” he amended, irritated. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

You stretched out your legs in front of you, thoroughly enjoying this. “I am both single and without boyfriend,” you assured him.

He nodded sternly. “Then, can I take you out? On a date?”

You considered it for a moment. “Yeah, sure.”

He blinked. “Really?”

“Really.” You leaned back in your seat. “You’re cute, and I don’t think you’ll murder me, and those are my two big requirements, so.”

He chuckled. “High bars. No wonder you’re single.”

“What can I say? I’m hard to please.” You dug around in your coat for a pen, holding your palm up towards you. “What’s your number?”

The redhead paused. “I don’t have a number right now,” he said. “I’m having trouble with my provider. I can give you a time and place, though.” He held out a gloved hand. “May I?”

You gave him the pen and your bare hand. Quickly, he scribbled down an address (someplace in Yokohama), a date (the next Saturday) and a time (six o’clock). As he finished, the train came to a halt at the platform, doors opening with a quiet hiss.

Nakahara Chuuya stood up, fixing his pork pie hat securely atop his head before straightening out his clothes and giving you a stiff nod. “I will see you then,” he promised. “If you’re late by more than fifteen minutes, I’ll assume you stood me up.”

You gave the strange man a smile. “I’ll come early, then.”

He averted his eyes. “Thank you.” And with that, he left you on the train with a date, a time, and a great deal of confusion.

Foolishly, you showed up. You lived neither in nor near Yokohama. Getting to the address the man had given you— which he wrote with poor penmanship— took you some time too. You went through the trouble of dressing as well as he had been the day you met him— which was more formal than you would typically be for a first date with a stranger you met on a train— and went so far as to plan to be there fifteen minutes early. You had no idea why you were so interested in the man. You had no inclination as to what possessed you to show up to meet a stranger in the first place; after all, his assumption that you might think of him as some sort of predator would have been a reasonable one to make. But you had an inarticulable feeling that told you that this meeting would be worth your time.

Or you just thought he was pretty. You weren’t sure which it was.

The address he had given you brought you to a small restaurant close to the Tsurumi river which, if its sign was to be believed, primarily dealt in soba. Despite your planning, you arrived a mere five minutes early instead of fifteen which, in your defense, was still early, but apparently not so early that your date did not beat you there. As you approached him, a look of bewilderment briefly crossed his face.

“Damn,” you joked. “I thought I’d get here first.”

He looked over your shoulder. “You came,” he said, sounding surprised.

“I did,” you confirmed.

“Alone.”

“I was unaware I was meant to bring a plus one on a date.”

“No, I just mean—“ He stopped himself. “Whatever. I’m glad you came.”

You held your hands behind your back. “So am I, though I’m feeling a bit self conscious now.” You looked down at your clothes, then back to his. He had dressed much more casually than you in a loose, short sleeve button up, loose pants and a large dark jacket. He had kept the hat and the choker— which you had not until that moment realized you remembered— but you looked too formal next to him. “I thought you would dress the way you did on the train.”

He gave you a once over. “You look fine,” he said. “You look great, actually. Don’t worry about it.”

A smile spread across your face. “You've gotten more confident since then, too. I just wanted to make sure I didn’t look totally plain next to you is all; you look so stylish.”

He paused, eyes cast down towards his feet. “Thank you. I drank before I came.” He opened the door to the restaurant for you.

You walked past him. “Thank you. Did you drive?”

“Nah.” He shut the door behind the two of you. “This place is out of the way enough to make it not worth the trouble to park. I walked.” He nodded to the hostess, who sat the two of you in a corner away from the door.

The restaurant was a hole-in-the-wall: exposed crossbeams, warmly lit, nearly empty despite it being a Saturday. You took your seat across from him as the woman set a cup of water in front of each of you, leaving you to your conversation. She made no eye contact with either of you before she left. You picked up your cup, taking a sip as he draped his coat over the back of the seat and set his hat beneath his chair. The gloves, however, stayed on. “How long was the walk?” you asked.

“Not far. A couple minutes.” His elbows came to rest on the table. “I can walk you back to your car if you drove, or to the train station if you need. Just let me know.”

“Thank you.” You took a menu from the center of the table, scanning it absently. “To be honest, I’m glad you asked me to do something earlier in the evening; I’m not super interested in being on my own in the dark.”

He hummed in agreement. “Nobody does. I have work to take care of later, but I can’t imagine wanting to stay out past twelve alone otherwise.”

You groaned sympathetically. “Terrible. What do you do?”

He paused. “I… it’s complicated.” He laced his fingers together. “I operate a shipping company under a parent organization operating out of Yokohama. I technically and practically own the shipping company, but I can’t legally operate it unless it’s under the parent organization, so I have all the stress of a business owner with none of the freedom.”

Your lips twitched nervously. “Are you on a list or something? Why can’t you operate a business?”

“What do you– oh.” The brief look of confusion left his face. “I’m a skill user.”

“A what?”

“You know,” he repeated, “a skill user?”

You stared at him blankly.

“I have a gift?”

“Isn’t that a dog whistle?”

“What? No!” He crossed his arms. “I have supernatural abilities.”

You considered it. “You know,” you mused, “I’ve never been on a date with a guy who came out as being possessed to me.”

He opened his mouth to protest, blinked. “Well,” he conceded, “I guess that’s what I’m saying, but that would be a bad assumption most of the time; most gifted users aren’t possessed.”

“Wait, seriously?” Skepticism and deep curiosity battled for supremacy in your mind. “By what?”

He shrugged. “A god, I guess?”

“You guess?”

“It’s complicated.” To your– and his– surprise, he laughed. “It’s funny; I can’t think of the last time I had to actually explain what my deal was.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Do most people just know?”

“More or less.” He shrugged again, looking towards the door. “It’s practical. I use it a lot.”

“I see.” You sat up, taking your cup and turning it over in your hands. “What does it do?”

He did not say anything for a second, brow furrowing. He looked back in your direction, holding out his hand. “Give me your cup.”

You did.

He set the cup down on the table. Slowly, as though it had been set in a pool of water, the cup began to float upwards. “My ability,” he explained simply, clearly taking pride in the way your eyes lit up in excitement and awe, “allows me to manipulate gravity for any object I touch.”

You reached out towards the cup, moving your hand above and below it. If there was a trick to what he was doing, you had no idea what it was. “That is so freakin’ cool,” you gushed softly. “How can you keep it from flying away?”

He was practically glowing. “Basically, I’m counteracting the force of Earth’s gravity for just this object by creating a second center of gravity that only affects the cup.” He pointed to a spot near the center of cup. “It’s around here. So long as the force of the gravitational field I'm creating is greater than Earth’s, the cup will naturally try and be as close to the center as possible. If the gravitational pull were too strong, the cup would go through that point–” he pointed towards the ceiling, “-- and through the roof before coming back down. But if the force is weak, it’ll stay right around the center.”

You took the cup, moving it towards you before letting go. As if attached to a string, the cup moved back to its place, the water inside is sloshing.

The pure, childlike joy on your face was enough for the man across from you to forget, for a moment, the price of his gift.

The date continued on. The two of you went back and forth on a variety of simple, surface level topics. You learned that Chuuya was a dog person and that he enjoyed fashion. He said he had been in Yokohama practically all his life. He told you about his coworkers– no details, but enough to get a sense for the type of Motley Crew they were– and how that day was an anniversary for something, though he never got around to telling you what it was an anniversary of. At one point, before your food had gotten to the table, you asked about his gloves, which he had apparently not realized he was still wearing. He explained that he wore them all the time– he said it made work easier– but that he did have the good sense to take them off.

“I’m not a monster,” he had insisted. “I don’t want to get food on them.”

The conversation was surprisingly easy. He was nervous at first and clearly inexperienced– an observation that you chose to keep to yourself– but funny and over dramatic in a way that made the discussions flow jovially between the two of you. He was a sailor-mouthed, irreverent, sensitive man, you found, and he seemed to take great pleasure in your company and a surprising interest in the more tedious parts of your life: your occupation, your friends, your earlier life, all of which he found strangely fascinating. Though you knew little of substance about him by the end of the meal you shared, you could not shake the feeling that the sort of things you learned– the simple, stupid things most people gave out as icebreakers– held more weight than you could understand.

But you were grateful, nonetheless. You enjoyed talking to him.

Despite your protests, he paid for the both of you, and the two of you left the restaurant cracking up over some embarrassing story about school.

“Three days straight?”

You waved him off, laughter still bubbling from your throat. “I know; it was stupid!” you cried. “I swear I was possessed; by the end of it I thought there was a chance– assuming I didn’t have heart attack first– that I was immortal.” You sighed, trying to regain composure; you were gigglier than normal. “But I passed the class, so fuck that guy.”

He set his hat back on his head, pushing it down to rest snugly. “Fuck that guy,” he agreed, having about as much success as you did in wiping the stupid smile off his face. “God– being a teenager fucking sucked.”

“Dude, amen to that.” You looked in his direction, tears from the cold and from excessive laughter in your eyes. “Chuuya,” you sighed happily, “I am having an excellent time.”

“What a coincidence,” he grinned. “So am I.”

You looked up at the sky, which was significantly darker than you thought it would be; you supposed that you had spent more time in the restaurant than you thought. “I shouldn’t walk back to the station any later on my own, though.” You slipped your hands into your own pockets. “So–”

“Can you stand to be out later if I can get you back to the train?” He cleared his throat, apparently hearing the eagerness in his voice as clearly as you did. It was the same eagerness he had when he first asked you here. “What time is it?”

You took your phone from your coat, flipping it open. “Nine-ish.”

“Nine?” He pursed his lips. “Shit, I— no, I can make that work.” He leaned his weight onto one side. “I have to get somewhere at eleven, but it’s not a formal thing.” He looked away, swallowing. “If you want to, I mean.”

You held out your hand to him. “Nothing in this moment would make me happier than spending more of my time with you, Chuuya.” You wiggled your fingers in invitation. “Where should we go?”

He was staring at you, at your body bathed in the warm light streaming from the restaurant’s windows, at your face which betrayed nothing but pure intentions, to your hand which you offered him freely. He wondered if you knew how easy it would be to kill you if he touched you. He wondered if that was something someone like you considered at all.

“Chuuya?”

He blinked, clearing his throat. It did not matter. He took your hand. “Sorry.” He was breathless. “Lost in thought.”

You let him pull you closer, nudging him playfully with your side. “You’ll end up swallowing a fly if you keep your mouth open like that,” you teased. “Do you really like looking at me that much?”

He straightened up, heat flushing his cheeks. “So what if I do?”

“Well, I don’t imagine it’d taste very good.”

He snorted. “Shut up.” He nudged you back, looking forward. “We can sit by the river for a while if you’d like; the streets will be sketchy here pretty soon but nobody goes by the part of the river we’re by.”

“Really? How come?”

He shrugged. “It’s impractical. Nobody important goes to the river, anyway.”

“Nobody important?”

“Huh? Oh, right; you’re not from around here.” He looked back in the direction of the river, starting to lead the two of you there. “The Port Mafia doesn’t dump bodies into the rivers; they throw them out by the dock.”

“The mafia?” You started. “What, like La Cosa Nostra?”

“What you do and don’t know is really confusing.” He rolled his eyes. “The Port Mafia is a smuggling ring operating primarily out of the city; it has nothing to do with the Italian mob.”

“Oh.” You squeezed his hand, following close behind. “That’s terrifying.”

“It is?”

“To know that people are just chucking bodies frequently enough that you know about it? And that there’s more than one group doing it?” You tittered nervously. “I mean, I’d heard a little about Yokohama, but I didn’t know it was that bad.”

He squeezed your hand back, looking over his shoulder in your direction. A wry smile crossed his face. “Huh. That’s funny.”

You walked a bit faster to stay beside him. “What’s funny?”

“That you think it’s weird. I guess it never occurred to me that it was strange.” He tugged you to his side. “You don’t need to be scared, though; I’ll protect you.”

“Oh, will you?”

He shot you a look. “What,” he challenged, “you don’t think I can?”

“I never said that,” you protested. “It was just a very old-fashioned thing to say.” You lowered your voice to a growl. “‘Don’t worry, dollface; I’ll protect you.’ It sounds like something you’d hear in a noir.”

He opened his mouth to argue, considered it. “I guess if you found that weird, that would be an odd thing to say, wouldn’t it?”

“A little, yeah.”

“Because what would you need protecting from?”

“Exactly.”

A funny look came onto his face. “That’s funny,” he repeated. “That’s…” He trailed off, slowing to a stop on the road.

You looked back at him. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled. “Just that…” Startling eyes– they seemed to shine under the streetlamps– met yours. “You said you stayed up for three days straight,” he said. “Do you sleep well now?”

You looked away. “I don’t know if I sleep well, exactly; I don’t sleep as much as I should, at least.”

“But it feels normal, doesn’t it? To not sleep much?”

“I suppose.” You turned to face him properly.

His gaze shifted from you to the sky. “You know, I just remembered something.” He started to walk again, pulling you behind. “When I was little, none of us– none of the people I hung out with– had much pocket money, so we made a game out of stealing from the convenience stores in town. The competition was to see who could pay for as little as possible without getting banned from the store. I was never really good at it because I was an easy to read kid, but I remember always going for those… what do you call them? Bonbons?” He made a circle with his thumb and forefinger. “The little wrapped chocolates. I’d always shove one into my pocket because they were always left out and who’s going to give a kid shit for taking a piece of candy?”

You followed beside him quietly, watching him.

He continued. “The other day,” he said, “I went into a convenience store for the ATM, and I must have withdrawn twenty thousand yen or something like that– a good amount. I bought a pack of gum before I left because I didn’t want to be the asshole that just uses an ATM and leaves, and I realized– I think I’d walked a block away when I did– that I had one of those candies in my pocket.” He led you off the path. “I guess I must’ve picked it up while I was paying for the gum. They weren’t even the good chocolates; they were the hundred yen ones, and I knew why I’d grabbed that piece– because nobody’s going to lose their mind over a hundred whatever yen– but I couldn’t for the life of me remember why I’d grabbed it.”

The two of you came to a stop by the riverbed. It was quiet for a Saturday. The water shone under the moonlight, and the man beside you– whose gaze was now transfixed by the reflection– stood next to you, seemingly lost in thought.

You never let go of his hand. “Being a kid kinda sucks,” you said, running your thumb over his clothed knuckles. “You usually don’t have many responsibilities, but you don’t know enough to know what you should and shouldn’t get involved with.”

He looked to you.

“And you get so jealous of the Huck Finn kids– you know the type: no responsibilities, nobody to tell them no– until you get older and realize– too late– that the habits you picked up when you were left to your own devices probably weren’t the healthiest, but by the time you put that together they’re so deeply encoded in your being that they’re a part of who you are and part of how you got this far, so even if they’re unhealthy it’s not like you can give them up now.” You shivered. “It’s frustrating, looking back and thinking about what you could’ve been.”

The two of you stood there, staring at the water. Chuuya wrapped an arm around your shoulders, trying, in vain, to keep you from the cold.

Finally, he spoke. “I don’t think I’ve ever had this kind of conversation with anyone before.”

You closed your eyes, leaning against him. “It’s funny,” you said. “I don’t think I have either.”

His voice was soft. “I want to see you again.”

“So do I.”

“Then we should.”

“We should.”

You did.

[sunfyrisms]

it’s genuinely so sad seeing some people blaming vi for cait leaving her, because it’s exactly what people did with the whole powder situation.

vi was a child when she saw the brutal, horrific end of her brothers and fathers. she was a child, she was hurt, physically and mentally, she lashed out at powder. it is clearly a mistake that she regretted. she looked at her bloodied fist in horror, started crying when she looks at powder, and she left to collect herself. because she was the only one powder has left, and powder was the only one she has left. vander’s last words to her were instructing her to take care of powder. she needed a moment, just a moment, to grieve. but the moment she saw powder is in danger? she immediately got up. she was ready for another fight. she was ready to protect her sister, without hesitation, even after fighting and losing the rest of their family before her very eyes.

i think a lot of people take jinx’s words as an immediate, inherit truth. “you created jinx.” perhaps it’s because jinx herself is the one who said it. but i don’t think vi did that. vi was in prison, as a child, surrounded by violence. constantly beaten, constantly hungry, but she never once forgot about powder. not a day, not an hour, went by that she didn’t think about her little sister. the first thing she does upon getting out of prison is immediately try to find powder. powder may have been traumatized by that fateful night, rightfully so, vi was too, but i don’t think vi created jinx. silco was the one who created jinx. he manipulated her, worsened her mental state, the whole nine yards. i’m not here to discuss whether he loved her because that’s ultimately not what this post is about. what i’m saying is that vi didn’t create jinx, but she blames herself for it anyway. she blames herself for abandoning powder, for not being able to protect her, for her roughness.

it’s so painstakingly obvious she isn’t willing to do that again. she isn’t willing to hurt those she loves. as a result, she’s so soft, so gentle, with caitlyn. she wipes away her tears, holds her, and genuinely sympathizes with her loss. she is able to be there for caitlyn because she has lost people time and time again. she joins caitlyn’s elite force to compensate for her actions (because, again, she openly states she believes she created the monster that is jinx). she becomes the thing she hated most to attempt to right her wrongs, but she still has her morals, she’s growing increasingly uncomfortable with caitlyn’s increasingly violent and cold deposition.

vi is scared of what caitlyn is becoming. she is openly scared of caitlyn, of how unrecognizable her rage and grief is making her. she doesn’t call out caitlyn’s rapidly growing hatred and dehumanization of her own people, not at first. but she’s scared. she’s scared what’s happening to the woman who was shown the reality of what her people face, what’s happening to the woman who genuinely wanted to make a difference, the woman who is ultimately kind as she is naive, the woman who gave away her only means of protection to save vi.

after their battle against jinx and sevika, she voices her concerns. she openly asks caitlyn what’s wrong with her. when she says caitlyn is acting like jinx, she isn’t being cruel. she’s trying to bring caitlyn back to reality. she’s saying “you’re losing yourself and it’s scaring me”. she grabs caitlyn’s arm, but, remembering that she hurt powder, what resulted from that, she immediately loosens her grip, positions her hand so she’s gently holding caitlyn’s wrist. she’s not willing to hurt caitlyn. she wants a productive conversation, she wants to understand, she wants to communicate, she wants caitlyn to understand that she’s becoming something dangerous, and she will do something she will regret.

caitlyn is triggered by vi’s words. she likely, at least subconsciously, resents and blames vi for her mother’s death. vi pleaded with caitlyn not to kill jinx, and caitlyn hesitated, and that resulted in the death of her mother. to be clear, i don’t blame vi for cassandra’s death, because she legitimately had nothing to do with it. but i think caitlyn blames her. she blames her for stopping her a second time, and takes vi’s statement as a direct comparison to her and her mother’s killer. on a surface level, it might have been, but i think it was a warning. it was a warning to caitlyn that her grief and rage were blinding her and she was betraying the morals she held so closely in season one. she’s actively becoming unrecognizable to vi like how jinx is unrecognizable to her, and she doesn’t want that. she doesn’t want caitlyn to lose herself.

in the end, that softness, it doesn’t matter. it doesn’t matter that she tried so hard to go about it differently, to be gentle rather than strong. because caitlyn strikes her in the same place she healed her wounds. caitlyn strikes her with her weapon, looks at her with such obvious contempt and disdain, just like the enforcers she’s encountered her entire life, and vi knows she’s lost her, just like she’s lost everyone. caitlyn is unrecognizable, blinded by her hatred, and vi is alone. she’s left alone after the woman who promised to not change changes so deeply and so badly.

i think that’s the tragedy of vi. she learns from her mistakes, she tries to be gentle, she carries the grief of everyone she loves, and she loves very deeply. however, she can’t save people who don’t want to be saved. she can’t stop people she loves from becoming their worst selves.

[thatrandomsarahchick]

Dc x dp prompt

I'm not sure if anyone done this before.

Batman is taking down the Court of Owls with the help of a small specialist government task force. They have weapons that can target the undead and put them to rest.

Batman allows the weapons because they don't hurt regular humans, only the undead. He's also glad that he can finally put the spirits to rest peacefully, as they can't be exorcised, and the bodies won't stop moving until the trapped soul is released.

The GIW had sent a small team of their best agents to Gotham to scope out rumours that the rogues and vigilantes there were all ghosts. Thankfully, the Bat, who was just a human or a meta, was willing to accept their input when they came across him being attacked by a small horde of Undead.

The changeling that went by the name Robin was even able to help them improve their weapons! There was much less recoil now, and they were able to lock onto a target with much higher accuracy.

Unfortunately, they couldn't stay for long. They had to get back Amity, as a situation was beginning to unfold there. A small town that sat on a thin spot in reality had just had a stable tear open, and the undead were flooding in.

One of their junior agents said that they had taken to mimicking the locals, to try and engender sympathy, before turning around and attacking everyone in sight.

Batman was grateful for the information. From his own research into the matter, the local ghost hunters were definitely ill-equipped to handle the situation. He gave the agent in charge a way to contact him, then set about flagging the town in the JL systems. Any calls from the town were to be checked for authenticity by himself or a other Bat before being responded to - the local rogues had a way to possess others and make them commit crimes or acts of violence. Any calls made against the GIW agents were to be sent to him directly so that he could pass it forward to the relevant authorities, as the rogues liked to cause chaos and dissent amongst allies. Thankfully, the agent he was in communication with was able to quickly determine them as not being true ghosts, but actually baby poltergeists.

Batman updated the system to make that section of Illinois a no-fly zone. The LAST thing they needed was a possessed superpowered person.

[questions-about-blorbos]

With all the proship stances you've been making recently I just wanted to put my two cents in:

I feel like the reason proshipping gets the reputation it has is because of apps like tiktok where younger people hear a term, water it down to the absolute max and then apply it to nearly everything they dislike, and people make it way worse than it actually is

"Fiction affects reality" is the most used stance i see and to some degree they are right but. Holy moly two characters doing immoral things to eachother isn't gonna change the world, especially when its a situation where you can choose to see it or not

If you really don't wanna see that thing then block and move on, it isn't that hard

(For the record i am not an anti or a proshipper i think labels for ships are dumb: i mainly agree with everything you have said and I do not personally enjoy stuff like noncon or pedophilia in fiction, just to give you an idea)

to be fair, the “proship” and “anti ship” have been one of the most famous fandom discourses way before TikTok was even created.

and I believe that if people do terrible things in real life because of something they saw from a piece of media then chances are they were already troubled and they would have done those terrible things anyway whether or not they consumed that media, as @allthingswhumpyandangsty said before, people do bad things in real life because they are bad people. a movie, a tv show, a book or a fanfic doesn’t make someone do bad things.

no one starts murdering and eating people in real life because they like Hannibal. so the term “fiction affects reality” is a very weak stance because while fiction can affect reality, fiction alone isn’t going to make someone eat people in real life because that someone is a big fan of Hannibal. my point is, yes, fiction can affect reality. but it’s not going to affect reality to the point the entirety of people’s moral compass change. and if it does get to that point then the real issue would be that these people were already troubled. not because they watched a tv show where the main character is a cannibal.

also, yes, the block button is your friend. see something that makes you uncomfortable? that’s what the block button is for. harassing people for liking fictional things you hate just makes you a shitty person in general who values the lives of fictional characters who are not real over the lives of real people.

[validfemale]

how to: overcome the need for validation in manifesting.ᐟ ⊹₊⟡⋆

alright, doll, this one’s for you because let’s be real—needing outside validation is the biggest block when it comes to manifesting your dreams. maybe you’re feeling like you need the universe to give you a little “thumbs up” before you fully believe in what you’re creating.

here’s the thing: when you’re manifesting, it’s about deciding it’s true and living from that decision. not hoping, not wishing—deciding. once you decide, it’s true because you said so, and that’s the only validation you’ll ever need. period.

❤︎ ︎ — stop looking for proof.

if you’re still feeling like you need outside signs to back up your desires, your job right now is to declare your desires as fact without searching for evidence. searching for proof is you telling the world, “i’m not in control, i need validation.” no, babe—you are the one in control. the second you stop looking around for proof and start claiming what’s yours, that’s when things begin to shift.

❤︎︎ — you are the creator.

the game changes once you realize who you really are: the creator of your reality. nothing—and i mean nothing—can show up in your world unless you assume it will. your world? it’s a mirror, just a reflection of your beliefs, your assumptions, your expectations. if there’s something you’re not vibing with, that’s just a nudge to shift your inner story. this is why people can have totally different experiences in the same situation—it all comes down to what each person believes is true for them.

❤︎︎ — prove it to yourself.

building trust with yourself is a process. start with something small—manifest a random colored car, an unusual name, something you don’t care too much about. when you start to see these things pop up? that’s your proof. those things only appeared because you focused on them and gave them permission to exist in your world. it’s all about showing yourself that you’re the one with the power.

❤︎︎ — upgrade your self-concept.

your self-concept? that’s the backbone of it all. remind yourself daily that you are the creator here. when you fully step into that role, everything falls into place. the outside world doesn’t exist to validate you; in fact, it’s waiting for you to validate it. understand this, and the need for outside proof disappears because you’ll see the world as your personal “simon says.” you say it, and the world responds.

❤︎︎ — you are the proof.

think of the world as a mirror, a perfect copy-paste of whatever you decide is true. there’s no more waiting on the universe to confirm things for you because, doll, you’re the one giving the orders. when you choose an experience, it has no choice but to unfold exactly how you chose it. forget needing outside validation—you are the source. repeat after me: i don’t need proof. i am the proof.

get ready, because once you own this, life’s about to hand you everything you’ve been asking for. you’re choosing your reality—watch it bend and fold around you like the masterpiece it is. 🎀