#because i already have a process going on

[shradsmanifestt]

These are the only things You need to know about manifestation :

Manifestation is not a process. You aren't trying to manifest anything. You are just accepting the fact that it's already yours.

Don't get stuck in the trying/learning phase, you don't need it to make sense. You don't need to know how/when/what. Just know that it's already done.

You make the rules in your reality. Stop asking if you can manifest this/that or why some coach was saying this and the other coach said the opposite. Don't accept what they say as true in your reality. What's the point of being the operant power in your own reality if you're just gonna go behind the latest technique/ fad some random person on the internet tells you to do.

The simplest way is the real way. Accept it as true in your reality. That's all there is to it. If you wanna affirm and persist do that, If you wanna do saturation do that, If you wanna listen to subs do that. There is no right or wrong way. Just accept the fact that it is already done.

To answer the question of how can I assume something to be true when it clearly isn't - How come you always assume the worst when it comes to stuff you want? Don't you assume how you're gonna be late somewhere before it even happens? Don't you assume that something's gonna go wrong before it even happened? Don't you overthink all sorts of shit without once knowing what's actually happening behind the scenes? If you can do all this shit with no proof whatsoever, you can assume what you want is true - if you really want it. I said what I said.

Don't be afraid to claim it as true. You aren't being delusional, You aren't aiming too high, No it's not that farfetched, It's okay to want what you want, It isn't impossible (unless you assume it is). Stop letting fear take over your power. If you can desire it you can have it.

More often than not people stumble upon manifestation because they are desperately trying to manifest something. Like their SP, or money or the job or appearance change or whatever it might be. Most people fail at manifesting what they want the most. In my personal opinion, it's because you're so busy "TRYING" to manifest it and just stuck in the process and have just too much resistance. You guys are never like - I have it, but instead like - I'm trying to manifest it. I'm manifesting this and that.

Change that. You are not gonna be stuck in that anymore. You are gonna decide now and here that it is already done. You have it. It is yours. NOT TOMORROW, NOT TWO WEEKS FROM TODAY, BUT NOW.

You have it now. If you can accept this, nothing can stop you from having what you want.

[nochepsicodelica]

It's two in the morning and you're knocking on your own front door after a night out with your friends. Your mind has been occupied by static, not allowing you to remember that you have a key to let yourself in, so you stand there alone, waiting to be let in. You plant your hand on the wall to keep yourself balanced, looking left and right to see if anybody or any car is looking at you as they pass by.

Just as you're about to knock, again, the door opens and you flinch, your other hand flying to the wall to remain steady on your feet. You look up at your man with warped vision, blinking a little to try and clear your view of him. You can't contain your laughter when you see the stern look on Toji's face, his green eyes laced with concern you can't process in this state.

"What the fuck..." Toji mutters, to himself. What kind of friends would just drop you off without making sure that you get inside your house, safely? It's late. Who knows how long you had been standing there before you knocked. Anyone could have snatched you away.

Toji will catch you. You know he'll catch you if you just lean forward into him, like a backwards trust fall, so you set the plan in motion. You drag your feet and move your hands along the wall until you're in the safe zone, and then you just fall forward.

"Woah, hey." He's quick to hold you up against him, to prevent you from sliding down his body and to the floor. "Hey, you good? Talk to me. Can you walk?" Toji doesn't receive much of a response from you. Just quiet little giggles and incoherent mumbles. He sighs and picks you up, draping you over his shoulder. The door is shut and locked, before he makes his way to the bedroom. The light is already on, because he was awake the entire time, awaiting your arrival. Toji sets you down on the bed and briefly sits on the edge, by your feet.

"You didn't answer my calls, and I texted you like twenty times." He lifts your feet and takes their place, before setting them down on his lap so that you are comfortable. His fingers make haste of undoing the buckles on your high heels and he sets the shoes down, placing them under the bed.

You simply hum in response, not entirely sure of how you got to the room. The light is so bright and it's irritating your eyes, making it hard for you to hold them open.

"Told you to let me know if you needed me to pick you up, dummy." Toji wraps his hands around one of your ankles, his fingers kneading with little pressure, incase the area is tender.

"N-Nooo, i'm... here. Here," you babble.

It's so frustrating to be unable to get a full explanation out of you, right now. Your responses are borderline illogical and it's not doing Toji any good. He feels like his heart is about to beat out of his chest. He can't calm down, after he spent the last few hours wondering why you stopped responding to him and why you weren't answering his calls. To open the door and instantly get a whiff of your night out was enraging, not because you got extremely intoxicated, but because there was no one looking out for you by the end of your time out.

Toji understands that there is no point in digging into this, now. You can't even walk or see straight, so he settles for making simple conversation that you can easily digest.

"Did your phone die or something?"

You shake your head, side to side, and his blood boils all over again. This was supposed to be an easy conversation, but he was just so damn worried. His entire body is tense with concern.

"Fuck." He sighs, nodding slightly at your response. "Yeah, okay."

A few seconds of silence go by and Toji thinks you may have fallen asleep, but then you speak up, out of nowhere, again.

"Took lots of pictures..." you mumble, eyes closed as you dig into your pocket for your phone. Once it's in your hand, you toss it on the bed for Toji to grab. He puts your massage on hold and picks up your phone, unlocking it and going to your photo gallery, where immediately, he sees previews of the pictures of you and those so called "friends" who abandoned you on your doorstep. The only reason he cares for those group photos is because you're smiling widely, seemingly laughing, and overall looking extremely happy in every one of them, but as much as he loves the look on your face in those, he loves the pictures you took of yourself and the ones your friends took of you, more. Some you had already sent to him, others he hadn't seen until then, so he sent those pictures to himself.

Toji turns your phone off and sets it aside, before grabbing ahold of your other ankle and repeating the same treatment that he did for the first one.

"There was... ugh..." you sweep away some strands of hair that almost went into your mouth. "A man. I dropped my phone and he- and he got too close behind me when I bent down to pick it up." You nod, with your eyes as wide as they can be in this state, like you're trying to prove that you aren't lying by looking him straight in his eyes.

"That's fucking disgusting, mama." Toji's eyebrows furrow, discomfort written all over his face with this new information you revealed. He squeezes your ankle a little tighter, his mind beginning to cloud with thoughts of never letting you go out without him again, but before he even thinks of spilling these thoughts to you, he asks you the most important questions.

"Are you okay? Did he touch you?"

"Mm-mm, no." You shake your head as quickly as you can without getting dizzy. "Saw his legs behind my legs and I got up and gave him this look..." You furrow your brows and lid your eyes, a gaze that doesn't seem intimidating or warning enough, now, after so many drinks. Your face quickly relaxes after and you roll your eyes with a tired sigh. "Yup, that was the face I made and then I walked away," you say, your attitude more upbeat.

"Did he leave you alone?" Toji asks, hoping nothing more happened. If there is more, he'll have you describe this man to the best of your ability, and he will hunt him down until he can positively assure that he's no longer part of the world's population.

"Yeahhh, don't know where he went." You hum like you're trying to remember, as if you even have that knowledge. You walked away and didn't turn back around, something that finally concludes your brief inability to recall. "Think he got lost." You giggle.

"Good. I'm glad," Toji says. You hum in agreement, and your eyes fall shut, gracing you with two seconds of sleep before your head nods and you wake up, again. Your bashful smile evolves into a short laugh, one that has Toji smiling at how precious you are. "You tired, mama?"

You nod and blink slowly in response, fighting the urge to shut your eyes for longer. Your lips curl into a lazy smile, when Toji presses a kiss to your ankle, before he moves your feet and sets them on the bed so he can get up.

"Let's get you ready for bed, then."

[felassan]

David Gaider on Zevran, under a cut for length:

"I was going to skip over Zevran, honestly, as I felt like I didn't have a lot to tell in the way of stories about him... but I know he still has some (ardent) fans. Plus, on reflection, I thought maybe I DO have a few things to say. 😅 Sooo we'll see how this goes. Zevran came along much later in the DAO process, as we were trying to round out the cast of party members. Alistair and Morrigan were well underway (as "main" characters, they were concepted very early) and I'd just started to consider who our Rogue followers might be when... things changed, a bit. See, BioWare had released a game not long beforehand called Jade Empire. It had included some same-sex options in its romances - not obscured like the way Juhani's "romance" had been hinted at in KotOR, but explicit. To this day, I have no idea who on the Jade Empire team was behind it, or why. More to the point, the same-sex options had received a lot of attention and praise - almost universal praise, in fact. In 2005, everyone was just pleasantly surprised. And I don't recall if I went to James and asked about it or if he came to me to suggest DAO should include it. The latter, I think."

"You might ask "Aren't you gay, Dave? Weren't you already pushing for this?" And the answer to that is, emphatically, "no, not at all". It might seem odd looking through the lens of 2024, but there was no talk of 'representation' or 'diversity'. Not at any level where we were aware of it, anyhow. Today, fans argue about how MUCH representation to include and whether it's done well enough... the idea that, less than twenty years ago, it being included *at all* was very much in doubt feels so far away. But, back then, I'd always assumed my private life and my work in games would never meet. So I think it was James who brought it up, because I remember being startled. Pleasantly so, of course. Now I had to look at our two rogues and figure out how this would apply. I sketched out the female of the two (who was taken on by Sheryl Chee) and then looked at the male - he who became Zevran. I'd been reading about the CIA and one thing that stuck with me was how they'd (allegedly) recruit gay men as assassins because they rarely had familial ties. Zevran wasn't going to be gay (bisexuality wasn't a question of representation, but a cost-benefit compromise) but that was the inspiration."

"Then there was the question of how "flamboyantly" I was writing this character, whether that might be too stereotypical? I don't remember how it arose, but I had too many "flamboyant" friends to do anything other than double down. This character was gonna be Zorro the goddamn Gay Blade, that's what. So that's how Zevran happened. Fun, a bit nihilistic, maybe a bit too overtly flirty for today's audience but very confidently *sexual*. Everything I'm not, so I'll admit it was an interesting exploration to dig down and find that voice somewhere inside. He was the anti-Alistair, and I needed that. Casting him was difficult. Caroline always tried to go for authentic accents, when we could, but for some reason this was getting us nowhere. I think back, and I suspect it's because I hadn't yet learned the lesson to not use terms in casting descriptions I thought were universal... but were not. What do I mean by that? Well, there was one write-up that said "drow elf". Now, I know what a drow elf is. It wasn't even important to the description, but the director saw the word "elf", and you know what we got back? A Keebler elf. Like a leprachaun, high and sweet and cutsie. Can you imagine?"

"In this case, I think it was the use of the word "assassin". Combine that with the sorts of roles many Hispanic actors in LA probably are asked to play, and all the auditions we were getting were 150% dark, mean, and gritty. 🫠 So we widened the casting call a bit, and this led us to Jon Curry. I knew Jon wasn't Hispanic, but what I wasn't prepared for when I flew down to meet the DAO actors was that he's this extremely tall, extremely Nordic looking dude who just happened to do the most amazing Antonio Banderas impression. Watching THAT man channel Zevran was... more than a bit surreal. 😅 And he had fun with it. As soon as we gave him the go ahead to play the fun and flirtiness to the hilt, that's exactly what he did. Over the few days where we found Zevran's voice, it totally supplied me with something I could hold in my head when I went back to Edmonton and finished writing him. Zevran was funny enough that the fans liked him. The only part of the reception I thought odd was the occasional comment by a male player who felt "tricked" into having sex with Zevran. "You mean... that part where he invites you to his tent for a sensual massage?" "Yes! I was expecting a massage!" "He literally says the massage is sensual." "Well he wasn't clear enough!" This is where I first came to the conclusion that a certain number of our players just don't know how to people. And that maybe an adjustment to the way we approached the messaging (or massaging lol) of romance was in order. If I could go back, would I change anything? Maybe I'd remind the systems team Zevran should really be able to pick a lock. And maybe not allow him to die. We had no idea we'd need to import these choices into the future - we kinda thought DAO was "one and done". Not so much, as it turned out. 😁"

[source thread]

David Gaider: "there's something to be said about how Zevran flirted and even had sex with you because he thought that's all he had to offer... not just you, but anyone. And when he realized you wanted something deeper, suddenly he was on unsteady ground and it truly unsettled him. It was fun to explore." [source]

User: "So David - besides loving the fact that the third image you picked is a gay sex scene - what happened in DA2(DAE - come on) with Zevrans design?" David Gaider: "Check the ALT text. It wasn’t a custom sculpt, so that’s as close as they could get it. Which… was not close." [source]

User: "Just to make sure I fully understand: the director (was it the voice director?) saw the word "elf" and thought you were looking for someone high, sweet, and cutesie?" David Gaider: "Yeah, this was from back before we managed VO in-house. The voice director in this case just didn’t have an association with “elf” like some familiar with fantasy would." [source]

[nadianova]

welcome to surprise nadia nova how to make a visual novel tutorial

you want to 100% use ren'py i dont make the rules

its straightforward enough that simply downloading, installing and hitting the "create new project" and spamming through the menu and then opening script.rpy to see the code which will tell you like 70% of what you need to make your first vn. there no need to be afraid just because the word 'code' was mentioned. ren'py's own language is just copy pasting stuff back and forth and inserting your own names and pictures. its nothing like C# or java or whatever languages exist cause i know jackshit about any of that and dont know how to do programming

anyway, inside the main script file, script.rpy, are commented instructions on how to name a character, place a sprite, place a background, and put in text and you can basically make a vn with these things. i can not stress it enough KEEP IT SIMPLE, especially if you're starting out. making things complicated or planning massive projects is just shooting yourself in the foot. better to make 2 minute game than get stuck trying to make a epic masterpiece

writing a story is its own thing. however anyone can write and its better to write a shit story than no story. that way you have something to build on and get more comfy with your own art process. its what me and everyone else who makes vns and any other art or skill or hobby have done too.

if you like what some other vn/manga/anime/story does copy it and smash these inspirations together to make your own thing. save pictures and lines you see that get you inspired if you need inspiration and references for your own story. everything in this world is inspired by other things someone else has made. its not stealing unless you get absurd and download someone elses game and take out half the assets and put them in your own game and pretend you didnt

if you have interest do yourself a favour and make a vn. as far as game development goes its one of the most accessible options out there . ren'py is an amazing engine having all the vn necessities already in place since that allows you to just focus on the story and not have to worry about setting things up yourself and scrambling with advanced code unless you really want to

i know the jam is just ending in the following weeks and depending on when you see this post this might be outdated as hell but my yurijam server is still going and will be going until people simmer out and something new shiny takes their attention. still, its a server an people post gay shit there occasionally even outside of jams so me and many others are helpful and like answering questions to help otehrs make stuff. so i think the best way is to join the server rn and just ask questions in the help channel. better to ask stupid questions than no questions

now go make a visual novel im holding a whip and making those scary crack sounds and aiming just close enough to your feet that youre almost convinced it hit you despite your jumping and dancing and DANCE NOW DANCE MAKE A VISUAL NOVEL DANCE GET TO IT MAKE A VISUAL NOVEL DO IT NOW OR ILL GET YOUR FACE NEXT MAKE A VISUAL NOV-

anyway but for real if you really are interested make a vn cause im holding a whip and making thOSE SCARY CR-

[atenea585]

Wet Dreams

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: Dean dreams of you... And pie.

Word Count: 1,370

Tags/Warnings: +18, smut, food play.

Dean found himself sitting on a couch in the middle of a room in which the colors of the walls didn’t matter because in front of him he had you.

You were naked, your visible skin stood out and he could already feel its softness on his fingertips. He looked you up and down slowly, with interest. But he noticed that in front of each of your breasts and your pussy was a portion of cherry pie. He also didn’t care that it didn’t make sense because, again, it was about you, naked.

“Hey, beautiful.” His eyes never left your body and your exposed skin, clearly enjoying the view.

You smiled, one of those smiles that lights up the room, that cheers up the saddest person or makes flowers bloom in the desert, just how Dean would describe it. It was at that moment that he noticed that you had both hands behind your back, hiding something as you walked towards him.

“I did something to you.” You pulled out a peach pie, placing it in front of Dean, a portion already cut.

“Oh, wow.” He said with emotion. “Did you do this for me?

He reached out to grab the slice, but before he could even touch it, you slapped his hand and grabbed the slice before bringing it to his lips.

“Come on, have a bite.” You murmured seductively.

He took a bite, licking the tips of your fingers in the process. He chewed under your careful observation and you ran your hands up and down his arms. The pie seemed to have disappeared as if by magic.

“Now, I have other pies you can eat.” You smiled sideways as you brought a finger under his chin.

Dean raised an eyebrow, looking you up and down.

“I’m going to devour them, honey.”

He kept his hands on the armrests, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t dying to touch you. You sat astride him, running your hands over his chest, which was bare. But now that he saw better, he was all naked. His cock was getting harder by the second, rising between them, and the chair he was sitting on became a bed.

You bit your bottom lip mischievously and gave him a push, causing him to lie down on the bed, the springs making noise under the sudden movement.

“Do you want me, Dean?”

“Of course I want you, darling.” He murmured without even thinking, moving his hands to your hips.

You brought your face closer to his, Dean looking down briefly at your lips. You weren’t wearing lipstick, but they were red as cherries. He could imagine himself nibbling on them endlessly to see how red they could get.

“I want you too.” You whispered before closing the space between the two of you and kissing him.

He took the opportunity to feel you with his hands, running them along your lower back and down your legs again, your skin being as soft and perfect as he knew it would be.

The kiss was passionate, almost desperate as you ran your hands down his arms. Dean moved his mouth away and then placed it on your neck, lightly nibbling and licking your skin as if you were a human pie.

���God, you’re so good, Dean.” You moaned, placing one hand on his chest while you moved the other to his member, vaguely stroking it. "So good."

He moaned lowly, moving his hands down to your ass and giving it a squeeze.

“Yes, come on, honey, be a good girl and put it in.”

You stood up slightly, lining him up towards your center. Dean noticed how the pie that rested in front of your pussy had a hole for his cock and watched in wonder as it passed perfectly, entering you slowly to feel each sensation intensely.

“Oh, fuck-” He searched your gaze, moving a hand to the back of your neck. “Yeah, go on, doll, you can do it.”

You sat up fully, letting out a low moan and resting your forehead on his. You quickly settled into a steady, desperate pace, as if you had been waiting for this moment for a long time.

“That’s it, baby.” He groaned, closing his eyes for a moment to enjoy it better.

He moved his hands to your lower back, caressing it with his thumbs as he moved his head away from yours, trailing his lips down your neck to one of your breasts, licking his lips at the pie in front of him and beginning to eat it.

“Oh, God, Dean.” You moaned, closing your eyes and stroking his hair as you continued to lean forward, practically bouncing on him.

But he continued eating, revealing your breast with each bite taken. His mouth was stained with remains of the pie just like your skin, the cherry around his mouth as he sank into you. Dean just couldn’t take it, he needed everything from you.

The moans of both filled the room plus the sounds that came from the union of their bodies. The touch of the cake around its base and the comforting warmth from your insides were enough to bring him closer to the limit much sooner than desired.

“Dean, Dean, Dean…” you repeated over and over again.

“Baby…” Starting to move his hips upwards and hugging you tighter as he let out a grunt.

“Dean… Dean… Hey, Dean!”

Dean raised his head suddenly, making you jump and moving your hand away from his shoulder that you were moving.

“Are you OK?” You asked, watching him carefully.

He looked around, realizing that he was in the library, sitting. He looked at himself and, unfortunately, he had clothes on. Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.

“I…” he returned his gaze to you and did not let the disappointment show on his face when he noticed that you were dressed. “Yes, I… I just closed my eyes for a moment.”

One side of his face still had the mark of his arm from sleeping on it and he could obviously feel that he was rock hard under his jeans. He shifted slightly in discomfort.

You had taken off your headphones to wake him up and Dean could hear the low sound of the music. Cherry Pie. A song that he himself had recommended to you some time ago, and he felt a tingle in his lower abdomen at the memory of the dream.

“Sure you’re okay?” You wanted to make sure. “You look a little… Taken aback.”

“I-I’m great.” He tried to smile and gave you a thumbs up.

“Okay…” You nodded your head slowly and sighed. “Anyway, I wanted to let you know that I did something for you.”

“Oh, yeah? For me?”

“Of course. I made you a pie.” You smiled.

Dean choked on his own saliva at that point and started coughing.

“Well, I think that’s a bit of an exaggerated reaction, don’t you think?” You tried to laugh, but something about his attitude was strange to you.

He cleared his throat and took a few moments to breathe before returning his attention to you.

“A pie.”

“Yep, a pie.”

“Like… A pie, pie?”

“As the only kind of pie that my knowledge reaches.” You raised an eyebrow. You didn’t know what was happening to him, maybe he had had a nightmare.

He nodded and ran a hand through his hair.

“Thanks, sweetheart. I’ll go in a moment.”

You stared at him carefully for a few seconds before nodding your head.

“I’ll be waiting for you.” You turned to leave.

“By the way, not that it matters, but… What flavor of pie is it?”

You turned around to look at him.

“Cherry.”

“Oh…”

“Come on, hurry up before it gets cold.” You left the room.

“Yes, would never miss it.” He muttered to himself.

He ran his hands over his face and shook his head.

“Son of a bitch…”

If Dean concentrated hard enough, he could still feel the taste of your pie in his mouth and the feel of your fingers on his lips.

He stood up and stretched, rattling some bones.

“Well… Time to eat.” He rubbed his hands and headed to the kitchen, where you were waiting for him with a smile and the cherry pie in front of you.

“Come on, have a bite.” You said with emotion, but Dean couldn’t stop remembering the dream and that he would do everything possible to replicate it.

@yjessi @s7nburn @tommysaxes @depressionbarbie2023 @im-roxx @rxouxcesss @thedevilortheangel @deaniemyboo @mrs-nesmith @jackles010378 @ineffable-moons @ailishnovak @dilfsandmartinis @cravemeintellectually @montyrokz

[rosiewitchescottage]

I'll say Amen to this.

Your identity issue may be Gender Dysphoria.

But there are experienced medical professionals who will say that with support and care, this can resolve itself when puberty kicks in.

Dr Miriam Grossman is wonderful. I could listen to her for hours.

Some certainly will need meds and surgery to support social transitioning. And if you do need it, then I hope very much that you can get it, and that it helps you find peace in your body.

But it's not the right path for everyone. And those who are telling you otherwise aren't in this to help you.

They have politics to push, and if you are harmed in the process. Well, they have to crack eggs to make an omelette, right?

It may be rooted in your mind and body responding to abuse or other traumatic experiences. You should get every assistance to heal from this.

Not some flimsy, potentially damaging, Queer Theory shaped sticking plaster. 😡

You may be on The Autistic Spectrum and need supporting as you find a way to live comfortably in your mind and your biological body.

You may have the first blossoming of same sex attraction, and need help accepting and expressing this part of yourself, in a way that's right for you.

You're going to be a feminine man attracted to other men, or a butch woman attracted to other women? There's nothing wrong with any of that.

You may simply be a more feminine/androgynous boy or a masculine/androgynous girl who needs reassuring that this is a perfectly normal way to be.

You're a boy/girl? Why? Because you're male/female, that's all it needs. You can be masculine/feminine, if that's right for you. But it may not be, and you are 100% OK, because you'd biology already has all that's essential.

Gender dysphoria is a mental illness, and like all other mental illnesses the best road to treatment often is long and tiring. Treating HRT & cosmetic surgery as a bandaid for everyone with gender dysphoria is delusional when in any other case a doctor wouldn't suggest spending thousands to massively alter your body as a means to treat your mental condition.

An ethical approach to treatment should be one step at a time, and it should take work, it should take effort, and it will be so much more worth it than permanently changing your body and risking medical complications due to a mental health condition. Some trans people need to transition if no other treatment helps, but I really think therapy would solve most of the new cases of gender dysphoria we see springing up in young adults, teens, or even children. Treatment should be the lowest harm first, progressing to more extreme measures (like transition) once other options have failed, not transition first and then therapy for years after to solve the issues transitioning never really fixed.

[lesbo-tuliplvrr]

slumber party

bestfriend!abby x bestfriend!reader

summary: your best friend abby calls you up for a sleepover after having not spent time together in months.

clingy!abby, friends to lovers, college!abby, college!reader, fem!reader, y/n used once, medicalstudent!abby, fluff, minor angst but mostly it's one sided, no specific descriptions of reader other than them being shorter than abby and having their hair uncovered at night

wc: 3.2k

Abigail anderson. Your best friend since primary school. Your longest friendship. Your longest crush.

You hadn't always had a crush on Abby. Sure you loved her, but only really as a friend. That was, until junior year of highschool when her body had started noticeably changing. She started working out more, her biceps bulging through every tshirt. She had a growth spurt too, now almost towering over you. You yourself weren't that short but her stature made for a quite prominent difference.

You weren't usually shallow, But c'mon. Abby was already one of the best persons in your life; smart, caring, trustworthy. Turns out you only needed that little extra push to transform your platonic admiration for her into something else. This had been going on for 5 years and you had zero intention of ever letting her know.

It would just be way too risky, confessing something like that. What if she wanted to cut you off? What if she was disgusted by your feelings? What if being friends for so long bit you in the ass and she saw you more like a sister?!

And plus, dropping something like that on her when she was already swept up by her studies to become a doctor most of the time, would be horrible. You figured, you just had to let the feelings die. Of course it was taking much longer than expected, going onto the 6th year of having said crush, but it just had to be done.

So when Abby told you her dad would be out of town and that you should sleep over, you found yourself at a crossroads. You could go, and spend time with your best friend and it be a great night. Or you could go and be so incredibly uncomfortable hiding your feelings.

"Come on, we haven't had a slumber party in ages. I feel like we're always so busy we barely have any time for each other anymore. which is crazy for us!" Abby suggested as she spoke to you over the phone.

Yeah, totally not because I've been purposefully distancing myself to get rid of this festering crush.

You responded, "I mean , don't you have studying to do? I'll just distract you."

"Dont worry about me. Plus, you wouldn't distract me, you never do." She replied with her honey-like voice that would never cease to make you melt.

"We both know that's a lie but sure." You gave in. It was your best friend. Plus you really hadn't had time together in the past few months.

It was just a sleepover with Abby. All you had to do was act normal and it'd be fine. It's just Abby.

Abby answered the door when you arrived, immediately pulling you in a for a hug, stating how much she missed you and how long its been since you properly hung out, just the two of you.

"This place hasn't changed at all." you say, looking around at the familiar picture frames of her and her dad still plastered in their same spots on the walls.

"Yeah, we're both pretty busy all the time so," she trailed off. "You want anything to drink?" she asked, grabbing your overnight bag from you and heading to place it in her room.

"Nah, but I'll help myself, it's fine." you respond, following her into her room.

Her room has seen a few minor changes, none of which younwerent aware of though. It might have been years since you actually set foot into her bedroom, but you still saw it regularly. During your as frequent as possible facetime calls, you got to see through her camera the little changes she'd make to her walls. Even got to help in the decision process sometimes.

"It's been a while since you've been in here huh?" she asked, sitting on the edge of her bed, eyeing you as you peered at all her stuff.

"Yeah, cant believe how long it's been." you replied, distracted by the sheer amount of personality visible on her walls and desk.

Her college textbooks neatly tucked away on the side of her desk in a stack, near her pencil holder that held various shades of highlighters and pens. There were multiple pictures on the wall directly above her desk, along with many post it's of medical terms. Most of them were of her and her dad, or of her dog froma. few years ago, Alice. But right in the middle there were two of you and her. One from when you were much younger, closer to the time you first became friends and the other from your highschool graduation.

You made a mental note to take more pictures with her once you overcame your crush.

You looked around for a moment more, realising there was no mattress or anything on the ground. Sure, you slept on the same bed together before but that was when you were kids. Years ago.

"Soooo should I sleep on the couch or the ground?" you asked jokingly, secretly hoping she'd actually have an answer.

She laughed, "Oh come on, it might've been some time but we're not strangers." she joked with her beautiful smile.

Fuck.

You chuckled at this, hoping it seemed genuine and didn't expose the fear you felt of being so close to her for so long. Abby, however, noticed your shift in energy. Choosing not to say anything, she promptly changed the subject.

"Alright, what's for dinner?" she got up from the bed and led you both back out to the living room. Grabbing the TV remote, she put on one of her rnb playlists. "I was thinking we could cook something, chat and catch up for a bit then maybe watch a movie or something."

Gosh, she'd really thought this through. "Abby I hope that you don't have outstanding assignments due while you're doing all of this," you scolded her, already getting back into the groove of things.

She sighed, "Uugggghhh no, mom. I'll have you know that I am actually very ahead of my assignments. And even if I were behind, I'd still wanna be hanging with you tonight."

You looked at her with a raised eyebrow as she came around your frame to hug you from behind. You forgot how physically affectionate she was, and how much you missed it. You tried to not lean into it too much. The last thing you needed right now was to give yourself any false hope.

"I just- I really need this right now," she said with a sigh that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, dropping her head on your shoulder. You were so caught up in your own thoughts and feelings that you hadn't even stopped to think about how stressful school and everything must be for her. You turned your head slightly towards her, faces mere inches away from each other.

"I really need this right now and you're so fucking tense that I can't even give you a proper hug!" she stated, attacking you with tickles.

You screamed in laughter as she jammed her fingers into your sides, not giving up her mission to make you laugh. You tried running away but her grip on you was too strong, as expected of abby. Your attempts, however, did lead you to toppling over the couch, with her on top of you. She continued tickling you as you laughed, both smiling wide.

Through squeals and breaths you tried to reason it her, "Okay! Okay stop."

"There she is," she smiled, finally halting the tickles. You looked up at her, trying so very hard not to grab her by the collar and kiss her stupid.

She sat up, straddling your hips as you still lay on the couch, breathing heavily. You raised your head slightly, looking her directly in the eyes.

Gathering her breath, she started, "Okay. Now tell me, what's going on with you?" she asked, pushing her flyaways behind her ears.

Confused you asked, "Me?"

"Mhmm, you've been all distant and weird around me for quite some time." she supplied, hands resting on her thighs. her big, muscular thighs. snap out of it!

Shit, she noticed. "I-" you didn't know how to respond.

Worry evident on her face she continued, "Did I do something? Because if I did you gotta let me know, i- I've been so focused on school and-"

"No! no, n- it's not anything you've done. don't worry" you answered, "I guess I've just been feeling a bit...." you pulled something out your ass quickly, "lonely, lately."

Not entirely wrong. It was gonna have to work.

"I'm sorry." she replied, empathy clear on her face as she leaned forward to hold your arms. "But hey, I guess this came at the perfect time then huh? You won't be lonely tonight, I'll make sure of it. 'kay? Now let's go make something and you have to tell me everything that's been going on with you." she pat your thighs before coming off. Her weight would be a missed presence on your lap.

The music played at a comfortable volume as you two easily maneuver around the kitchen, cooking up a simple pasta dish. You talked about anything and everything, fully catching each other up on what the other had missed in their lives. In all your attempts at dodging her and keeping your distance, you'd forgotten why you two were best friends in the first place.

Abby was easy to talk to. She always knew how to cheer you up and how to comfort you. As did you to her. When you would hang out, there was always fun to ensue. Which is exactly why you fell in love with her. But as you were here, having chopped and prepared all the other ingredients and awaiting the water to boil, dancing and laughing around the kitchen hand in hand with Abby, you decided that just for tonight you could forget the complications that having a crush on Abby would cause and just lean into your best friend whom you missed so much.

When the meal was done, you both retreated to the couch where you sat closely next to each other in search of a movie to watch.

"I feel like nothing looks good," Abby stated, as she kept scrolling through the site.

"We could always hate watch something?" you suggested cheekliy, knowing that Abby was already not a big movie person and that it would be an utter waste of time for her to watch one that wasn't good.

"Ha ha very funny." she deadpanned, "What's that one you always wanted to watch when we were younger? Let's just watch that."

"Are you sure? Because you'll have to put up with me quoting almost the entire thing. And singing all of the songs." you weren't really asking seeing as she had already found the film, Tangled, and was ready to press play.

"I'll be fine pumpkin."

She hadn't called you that name in years. It was nice to hear it again.

As promised you quoted almost all of the movie, under your breath though, so as to not annoy Abby too much. It was more like a light whisper/lipsync. Unbeknownst to you, while you were thoroughly enjoying what was one of your favourite movies ever, Abby hadn't even been paying attention. She'd been looking at you for the majority of the film's runtime, only looking at the screen when you turned to look at her and found her not focused enough.

"You're missing important character development here Abby, he bought the apples for maximus!"

After the movie you both cleaned the dishes, then went to her room.

Another thing you forgot to consider in all your rumination, showering. You and Abby weren't the shower together type of best friends but it was definitely a 'not a big deal if we see each other naked' type of deal. So you'd often change into and out of clothes in front of each other with no problems. If the whole night so far wasn't gonna do it, this would be the fucking nail in the coffin. Abby, changing out of her clothes, right in front of you.

You didn't want to come off as suspicious by clearly turning away but you also didn't want to feel like a perv and look at her in her underwear, knowing full well that you wished it were under different circumstances. So you opted for casually directing your attention to somewhere else in the room as she stood naked a few feet in front of you.

"I guess I'll go in first," she annouced grabbing her towel and leaving the room.

You let out a breath you didn't realise you were holding as you quickly undressed and wrapped your towel around your body. You sat at the edge of her bed and waited for her to be done as you tried to calm your nerves.

It absolutely did not help your nerves when she stepped out of the bathroom and into her room, glistening from the shower. Muscles on full display, unbraided hair cascading down her back while some stuck to her face. She looked like a goddess. You quickly got up and headed into the shower, leaving her in her room to change.

It was like the more you decided to just let go of your feelings for Abby, the more she'd do things that made you fall for her all over again. You ended up taking way longer than usual in the bathroom, mustering up the courage to face her again while also trying to steady your heart rate.

Finally exiting the bathroom, changed and ready for bed, she closed the door, took off her bedroom light and hopped in right next to you. At first you both stayed silent, staring up at the ceiling, before she broke the silence.

"I'm really glad you were able to come," she expressed, turning on her side to face you.

You mimicked her position, scooting a little closer to the middle of the bed. "I'm glad I did."

You stared into each other's eyes for a moment, really taking the other in, before you spoke up again.

"You said you really needed this, what's going on with you?" you asked, poking a finger into her arm.

She looked down at where you touched her arm then back up into your eyes. Sighing with a smile, she responded, "School has been kinda stressful I guess, but to tell you the truth, I just missed you." She scooted closer to you, moving her hand from under her head to caressing yours.

No. She meant that as a friend of course. Do not get your hopes up again.

"You're tense again." she pointed out, hand still laying on your hair.

God, why was she so perceptive?!

"No I'm not?" you scoffed. Your deflection did not work on her.

"Yes you are. You've got that look in your eye again," she continued caressing your hair, "What's going on up there?"

You sat up, pulling away from her touch. She followed you in sitting upright on the bed.

You knew that lying about everything being fine would not work any better than it's been all day, so you figured you'd at least give her something.

"If I tell you, you might not want to hang around me anymore."

She looked at you incredulously. How could you ever think something like that? "Did you kill someone or something?" she teasingly suggested with a laugh, that being the only plausible situation in her head. She didn't miss how you looked at her, amusement absent on your face.

"Sorry, I just- no matter what it is, I won't stop being your friend y/n." she said seriously, one hand moving to touch your thigh.

"Please don't, because if I tell you and you really don't wanna be associated with me anymore it'll just hurt more." you barely got out, eyes becoming teary. You knew you were scared of something like this happening. Your increasing heartbeat and glassy eyes further proved just how terrified this made you.

If Abby wasn't worried before, she certainly was now. "Hey, I get to decide who stays in my circle and who doesn't okay?" She cradled your face.

You shook your head, still not giving into confession. "Everything's gonna change and I don't want it to so let's just forget it."

"If things have to change...then I'll just make sure it's for the better." How could she be so reassuring without even knowing what was going to be said? She held your chin, tilting your head to look at her.

With a sigh, you finally gave in, "I feel so much..love.....for you..since high school. And it's only gotten worse recently. I swear I've tried making it go away, I've tried so much. I don't wanna be a bad friend by springing this on you but i also know that trying and failing to hide it isnt doing me any favours either so.." Tears were streaming down your face, your sniffles becoming the most prominent sound in the room.

"And now because you know, things are never gonna be the same and I just wish I'd been better at hiding it. I wish I never had these feelings in the first place. Then this wouldn't be happening and I wouldn't have to lose my best friend right after we had so much fun together."

Abby was silent. Staring into your eyes, her expression unreadable. She looked down into her lap, a small smile growing on her lips, before looking back up at you.

She leaned forward till there was barely space in between the two of you. Abby glanced down at your lips then back up to your eyes, making it clear what she was referring to. "Can I?"

Your heart rate was through the roof. There's no way she wanted this too. "Are you not.. worried about how things are gonna be between us now?"

"I said I'd make sure the change was for the better, didn't I?"

"You can."

In what felt like zero time, Abby carefully crashed her lips onto yours. Her lips were soft, her touch gentle. It was exactly what you imagined this to be like.

Gently pulling away, she wiped your tears with her thumb, looking at you with so much love in her eyes you swore the rest of the world would now be void of it.

Through sniffles and smiles you apologized, "Sorry hah, I'm a mess."

"Did you really think I couldn't love you?" Abby asked, holding your face in her hands. "I've loved you before I even knew what love was, pumpkin."

Her efforts to wipe your tears were now fruitless, your eyes pouring out streams of emotion.

She pulled you in for a hug. This time, a proper one, without the weight of what could have been laying on your entire being. You shared one more kiss, Abby then kissing your forehead as you both lay down to finally sleep. A sleep void of worries and stress.

You were actually hers.

soooo sorry if that was basically 95% buildup for 5% payoff. I totally wrote this in a whim at late hours of the night. anyway, hope you enjoy. requests are open! to those whove requested, I am working on your stuff so have no fear :>

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

When They Accidentally Bring Up an Insecurity | Jeongin

Jeongin x Gn!Reader

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You’d never thought of yourself as “weak.” Sure, you were aware you weren’t as tough or unshakeable as some others, but you knew you had your own strength, in your own way. So when Jeongin threw out that one, seemingly harmless comment – “You’re a little fragile, huh?” – it cut deeper than you expected. It wasn’t even the words so much as the way he’d said it, casually, almost dismissively, like it was something that didn’t need much thought. Like he just assumed it was true.

You brushed it off at first, telling yourself it was just a passing comment. But as the days went by, the thought began to settle, slowly festering.

Maybe I am fragile, you thought bitterly. Maybe I’m not enough.

That night, you found yourself in Jeongin’s apartment, doing your best to act normal. But deep down, there was a knot in your stomach. You were trying to smile, to laugh, but something felt off, like there was a weight holding you back from feeling fully present. It was as though everything you said or did was under a harsh spotlight.

Jeongin was always so unshaken, so composed in the face of stress. Whether he was handling work, navigating personal issues, or just being his usual easygoing self, he didn’t seem to falter. His resilience was like armor, and you found yourself feeling smaller, somehow inadequate. How could you measure up to that?

It didn’t take long before you started questioning yourself. You’d catch yourself second-guessing your every reaction, wondering if you were being “too sensitive” or overreacting, fearing that any display of emotion or vulnerability would only confirm what Jeongin already seemed to think of you.

Jeongin was oblivious to all this, busy as he was with his own routines. When he noticed you acting a bit distant, he figured it was just stress or a bad week. But then, a few days later, he walked in on you talking to Minho. The two of you were laughing, and you looked more at ease than you had in days. Jeongin tried to brush off the feeling of unease that crept up on him, but he couldn’t shake it. Seeing you with Minho brought on an unfamiliar pang of jealousy.

Later that night, unable to contain his own insecurity, he texted Minho, trying to keep it casual but unable to mask the edge in his words. “You and Y/N seem close these days. Something I should know?”

Minho’s reply was blunt, as usual. “We’re friends. I’ve just been there for them. You’d know that if you paid a little more attention.”

Jeongin frowned at his phone, Minho’s response sinking in. The comment gnawed at him, making him wonder if he’d been missing something all along. The following day, he confronted Minho in the studio, unable to hold back.

“What’s going on with you and Y/N?” Jeongin’s voice came out a bit sharper than he intended.

Minho just sighed, his expression softening as he looked at Jeongin. “Nothing’s going on,” he replied firmly. “Y/N’s been going through something, though. They feel like they’re… I don’t know, like they’re too sensitive for you or something. They think you see them as weak.”

Jeongin’s face fell, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. “I… I never meant to make them feel that way.”

Minho nodded, watching the realization dawn on Jeongin’s face. “Look, I don’t know what exactly happened, but you might want to talk to them. They’re really trying to toughen up, all because they think you need someone stronger.”

Jeongin could barely process Minho’s words as he turned on his heel and hurried to find you.

When he finally sat down with you that night, he didn’t waste any time. “Y/N… have I made you feel like you’re not enough?”

The question caught you off guard, your heart pounding as you tried to brush it off. “It’s nothing, Jeongin. You didn’t mean it like that.”

Jeongin’s hand reached for yours, his thumb tracing gentle circles over your skin. “No, please,” he said softly. “I think I really messed up. I’ve been so busy, I didn’t realize what my words were doing to you.”

You stayed quiet, swallowing hard as you tried to push down the knot in your throat. But Jeongin kept his gaze steady on you, his expression open and sincere. “You don’t have to pretend to be anything other than who you are for me,” he whispered, his voice thick with regret. “I didn’t mean it the way you took it. When I said you were ‘fragile’… I was just talking. I didn’t think about how it would sound. I didn’t realize it would make you feel like you needed to change for me.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and Jeongin’s thumb brushed it away gently. His face softened, guilt evident in his eyes. “I know I made a stupid comment. I was careless. But I never, ever wanted you to feel like you weren’t strong enough. That’s the last thing I’d ever want.”

You felt the last bit of tension slowly fade as Jeongin’s words settled into your heart. His apology didn’t erase the hurt, but there was something real, something healing, in his sincerity. He wasn’t trying to fix you; he was trying to understand you.

His hand remained on yours, grounding you as he spoke. “I love you for exactly who you are,” he murmured, his voice breaking just a little. “Not because you fit some idea of what I need, but because you’re real, and you’re you. And I’m sorry I made you feel like you needed to be someone else for me.”

Your heart softened, the hurt melting away as Jeongin’s words washed over you. He saw you, all of you, even the parts you’d tried to hide, and he was here, offering you the space to just be yourself.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you squeezed his hand. “Thank you, Jeongin,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath, but the weight of your gratitude said everything you couldn’t put into words.

In that moment, as you sat there together, you knew you didn’t have to prove anything. Not to him, and not to yourself. And in that knowledge, you found a quiet, profound strength you hadn’t known was there all along.

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@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

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@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon

@night-storm7 @missmajdastark @axel-skz

[gothhabiba]

@ anon

I think it might be actually dangerous to publish your ask, but I'm sure from my response people will be able to tell what it's about anyway.

You're full of actual, absolute shit if you're pretending not to know by now that verification processes to ensure the legitimacy of Ghazzawin's fundraisers have been undertaken, and that details about what these processes entail have been shared by several people. Several people, some of them currently in Gaza, put themselves through countless hours of work video-calling people, judging their knowledge of dialectical Arabic, seeing their faces and their children's faces and their living conditions, seeing IDs and bank information, asking invasive, personal questions that they didn't want to be asking & that the people responding probably didn't want to be answering, and physically visiting people in Gaza and video-recording their interactions, just so that people like you could be sure that these fundraisers were legitimate. If you're ignoring all of the blood & tears that went into that process just so you can hand-wring about scams, no one needs to be concerned with convincing you of the legitimacy of anything, because you were never going to donate to these people anyway. You are just looking for any plausible-sounding excuse not to do what you already didn't want to do.

If, by some miracle, you actually didn't know about the verified fundraiser spreadsheet (which is frankly still blameable bc, where on earth have you been?), then there it is. The post of mine that you're referring to never even mentioned responding to asks; using this spreadsheet is an absolutely valid, reasonable way of donating directly to families.

Now let me treat some of your statements as though they were questions (which, they were not).

How do people in Gaza have internet access?

Internet infrastructure in Gaza is very robust (e.g. in what cables are made of, how deep they're buried, amounts of redundancy in the system, &c.) because they have been getting bombed by Israel all the fucking time for decades, so they expect this infrastructure to be put through a lot. There have still--if you've been following the situation at all--been several outages caused by damage that Ghazzawin have needed to repair. Though I do have to say that I find it odd that you doubt Ghazzawin have internet access, but also say that you buy eSims...?

A lot of people right now are indeed connected via eSim, which to my understanding only need to connect to wifi once, right when they're activated. People put themselves at risk to connect to eSims because they need to get a good wifi signal, which usually means walking for several miles trying to find high ground. One of my contacts once urgently called me (this is the only time he hadn't just texted) because he had been told his friend had found a signal and so they needed an eSim right then, before they went back to their tent.

I've been trying for some time to connect another of my contacts in Gaza to an eSim, but we're not having success. At Crips for eSims for Gaza they / we (I'm on the server getting advice and helping out but I'm not using their funding; I'm using what people on tumblr have given me to purchase eSims with) keep a constantly updated sheet of which eSim providers use which networks and which networks work in which areas--because the situation is constantly changing. Because my contact doesn't have an eSim on a personal phone, she has to go to a central location to be allotted three hours of internet access from someone who has managed to get connected. Lots of people, on their fundraising posts and pages, specify exactly how they've gotten internet access, how difficult it's been for them to get it, and how stressful it is to be relying on this tenuous connection, spending hours away from their families (at high risk of being shot at by IOF soldiers the whole time), just to message people for hours straight and then go home again.

2. How do people in Gaza have tumblr accounts?

This is a stupid question. Anyone with an email address who is capable of picking a username and password can make a tumblr account. I have personally helped several of my contacts in Gaza with the process.

3. How do people in Gaza know to come into people's tumblr accounts?

This is also a stupid question. I don't really see how you could ask this question if you saw Palestinians as, like, real humans beings. You understand that people talk to each other, yes? Like with words? As soon as a few people had success fundraising to evacuate Gaza on tumblr (nearly a year ago... this news has had a lot of time to spread), obviously they told other people about it.

One of the ways that Israel conducts its genocidal war is through the destructiveness of frustration and boredom. It's a strange situation because everything is extremely dire, urgent, terrifying, and dirty, but there's also seldom anything to do. People are singing, telling stories, going to the beach, inventing games and contests, to entertain children, but also to entertain themselves. And this is the situation--with a bunch of desperate, bored people packed into a tiny piece of land--this is the situation that you think it's impossible for people to talk to each other in? Come on.

If you want to donate to Anera and World Food Kitchen and buy eSims, that's fantastic. Please do that. But if you are as ignorant of the particulars of what this situation is like as your ask makes you appear, then I hope you refrain from speaking on what the situation is like.

I've been nattering on for a long time so here's my call to action:

Decide what you're capable of giving right now, or the next time you get paid

Scroll down on the vetted fundraiser spreadsheet and find someone very low on funds, or with injured children who urgently need treatment or evacuation, and give that money.

AND / OR give it to the PCRF or the IRW

[aquaticmercy]

Waste a Moment / Part 15

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum.

Requested by :  @remoony

Word count : 2.7k

Note : I have a lot on my inbox and I haven’t been replying a lot lately, but I will go through them tomorrow! Please let me know if I miss anyone on the tags! Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

“Name a Price”

Tuesday.

You had said it all—every bitter feeling, every thread of anger that festered so deep inside you that you barely knew where you ended and it began. Alex hadn’t interrupted, hadn’t even shifted in her seat.

She just sat there beside you, listening like she did the first time.

Not as someone who pitied you— but as a friend.

For a while, she didn’t say anything. 

You stared at the glass case in front of you, the one holding Bucky’s war uniform— a symbol of his past that he was still piecing together.

You began to wonder if he’d been someone else back then— someone untouched by Hydra’s corruption. 

But you knew better. That uniform belonged to a man already carrying scars from war you couldn’t begin to fathom. Hydra just amplified it, took advantage of it, added to it.

“I’m not defending Bucky,” Alex finally spoke, “But let me ask you something—hypothetically. If you were still with him, and he somehow forgot all about his Winter Soldier days, would you remind him?”

What?

You turned to her sharply, mouth agape with shock. “That’s not fair.”

“I’m not trying to be fair,” she replied calmly, “it was just a hypothetical question.”

Your hands clenched into fists in your lap. “But that’s neither here nor there,” you muttered, looking away.

“Is it?” Alex pressed, her tone patient but unrelenting. “The only difference I see is scale.”

Her words lingered in your brain like a disease spreading. You wanted to snap at her, to tell her it wasn’t the same thing at all, but… wasn’t it?

“Well,” you said, your voice faltering a little, your conviction a little less absolute. “It’s not the same,” you insisted. “It’s a painful memory for him, and he wouldn’t know how to process it. I wouldn’t want to…”

Your voice trailed off, realising your answer.

The truth— the truth was that you wouldn’t tell him. 

You wouldn’t tell him because you couldn’t bear to see the pain, to see the humanity ripped away again. You wouldn’t be able to look at the way it would twist his beautiful blue eyes and pull him back into the darkness he’d spent so long trying to climb out of. You wouldn’t tell him because you didn’t think you could survive watching him rip himself apart, questioning his very existence, his place in the world.

But was that fair? Could you make that choice for him?

Alex’s voice cut through your spiralling thoughts. “Doesn’t he deserve to know the truth?”

You flinched, feeling the words hit like a punch. 

“It wouldn’t be my place to give it to him,” you said, your tone harsher than you intended— like it was your last line of defence. 

“So you’d be complicit,” Alex said bluntly.

That word stunned you. It froze you in place.

Complicit.

You felt your chest tighten, your breath stopping for a split second. 

Complicit. 

Like Yelena.

The realisation struck you like a punch to the gut. 

Even as you tried to tend to the wounds, you still held a grudge against Yelena for what she’d done, for keeping the truth from you. You hated the way she had looked at you with pity in her eyes. You hated that she’d known all along. You hated that she knew when the truth came out, it would destroy you. 

But now, you realised, if you were in Yelena’s shoes, wouldn’t you have done the exact same thing?

“And how do you think he’d feel if he found out the way you did?” Alex continued quietly.

You swallowed hard, but the lump in your throat wouldn’t go away. 

You didn’t have to imagine it. You already knew— you knew exactly how he’d feel.

He’d feel like the ground had been ripped out from under him, like the air had been stolen from his lungs. He’d feel betrayed. Hurt. 

Like his entire world was a lie.

Just like you had.

You loved Alex— she was your friend— but you hated how exposed you felt, how easily her words broke down the walls you've built around yourself.

“It’s not that simple,” you said, your voice breaking.

“I know,” Alex replied, she put her hand on yours, trying to keep you steady. “But I think… Bucky did what he did out of love. It doesn’t make it right, but it doesn’t make it wrong either. It makes it human.”

“So what?” You almost snapped if not for the stray sob that escaped your mouth. “I’m just supposed to forgive him? Pretend like it’s all okay because he meant well?”

“No,” Alex said firmly. “You’re allowed to be angry. You’re allowed to hurt.” She paused, her eyes holding yours. “But ask yourself this: what’s holding on to this anger costing you?”

You knew exactly what it cost you: it cost you your happiness, and his.

—

When you stepped into your apartment, you saw him.

Bucky stood in the kitchen, his back turned to you, shoulders tense he moved around the stove. The soft clatter of utensils and the low hiss of simmering liquor on the burner made your apartment feel like him. 

The scent was rich, warm, and familiar. It was your favourite dish. 

On the table nearby, your clear vase was now home to a bouquet of flowers, your favourite flowers— the ones he always teased you about loving because they never lasted long. You’d playfully huff, telling him it bloomed so beautifully in the short time it had lived. 

They were arranged with painstaking care—one you knew Bucky was capable of. The petals were flawless, the colours vibrant, as if he’d combed through hundreds of blooms to find the most perfect ones.  

“Hey,” he said softly. He turned to face you, his movements careful, as if afraid to shatter the fragile truce between you. 

When his eyes found yours, a tentative smile curved his lips. His voice was different— gentle, stripped of the defensive edge you had expected.

Your breath hitched.

You’d imagined this moment countless times while you were laying in the hospital bed. 

In some versions, your fury took centre stage, unleashed on him like a storm. In others, the anger had dulled, leaving only an all- consuming sadness, refusing to acknowledge he existed all together. 

You had breached for him to plead, to beg. But this? This peace, this tenderness—it wasn’t what you’d prepared for. 

“Hi,” you managed to say, your voice barely more than a whisper. It felt heavy, like the first crack in a dam threatening to spill. You closed the door behind you, and walked to the dinner table, sitting down before your knees gave out.

Bucky turned back to the stove, setting the spoon down, giving himself a moment to gather his thoughts. He wiped his hands on a towel before walking over to the table. 

His movements were careful, like a man walking a tightrope. “I didn’t want you to come back to… an empty home. Not again,” he murmured, his hand raking through his hair, as it always did when he was anxious. “So I thought I’d, uh, take care of the place. Until you came back. If you came back.”

You stared at him, then at his careful effort he’d put into making the apartment feel welcoming. After all this time, your home didn’t feel yours anymore— not entirely.. It felt like it belonged to both of you. 

“You didn’t have to do this,” you said finally, your voice trembling. 

“I know,” he said, his voice barely holding steady. His eyes met yours, and for the first time since the hospital, there was no mask, no shield. No defences raised, no excuses. “But I wanted to.”

The vulnerability in his eyes was an invitation, not a deflection.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” he said, breaking the moment as he turned back to the stove.

You nodded, fingers brushing over the soft petals of the flowers. Questions swirled in your mind—so many questions, accusations, words you’d rehearsed over and over. But you didn’t say any of them. Instead, you let him take care of you as you once did— you let him finish dinner.  

When he finally brought the plates over, he sat across from you, his hands resting on his knees like he was bracing for impact. You stared at the food, then at him.

“Thank you,” you said. Picking up your fork felt… comforting. It felt like home.

“I can go,” he said suddenly, almost panicked. “I’ll do the dishes and leave.”

“No,” you said quickly, the word surprising even yourself. Your chest tightened as you recalled your conversation with Alex, her reminder that he was human, a reminder that healing could only start if you accepted that he could make mistakes. You set your fork down and met his eyes. “I’m ready to talk.”

Bucky hesitated, his fingers tracing anxious patterns along the table. His muscles tightened, his eyes fixed downward as if the weight of what he was about to say could shatter everything between you. “I don’t… I don’t know where to start.”

You swallowed, the lump forming in your throat. You forced yourself to breathe through it. 

The thought of finally hearing him out was terrifying, but you knew you owed it to yourself. “I don’t care where you start,” you said gently.

His hand stilled in a grip that held the table’s edge a little too tightly. “I know you know I wasn’t always this w-way. This perfect person you’ve known these past few months… I’ve always wanted to be him, for you.”

His words hit you like a wave, the sincerity pulling at your heartstrings. 

“I never needed you to be perfect, Bucky,” you said, the tremble in your tone almost taking over, “I just needed you to be honest.”

He lifted his gaze then, his eyes clouded with regret, pain, and mostly— shame. “How could I?” He murmured, his voice cracking, “For so long, I thought I was protecting you by keeping parts of myself locked away. By being… distant. I thought that if I didn’t let you get too close, you’d be better off. Safer. I didn’t… I didn’t know how t-to justify this change.”

“But why?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended. “Why did you think I couldn’t handle it? Why didn’t you trust me enough to let me in?”

He flinched at your tone, his shoulders dropping as if the question had drained him. He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking before answering. “Because I didn’t think I deserved you.” He looked at you then, his eyes so full of pain. “I told myself you deserved someone whole, someone who wasn’t… broken. And I thought that if I kept my distance, you would hate me. But you didn’t. Not until… not until now.”

But he was wrong. You didn’t hate him— you never could. You hated that he lied, But him? No, you could never bring yourself to hate him.

“So you pushed me away,” you said quietly, a confirmation of what you knew all along.

He nodded, lI thought I could keep my distance and pretend like it was for the best. But every time I was around you, I felt this… like I couldn’t breathe.”

There it was again. 

He couldn’t breathe around you, he admitted time and again. But not because he hated you. Not because he found your presence suffocating.

It was because you were so damn precious to him that the very thought of sharing the same air as you felt like a privilege he hadn’t earned.

“Instead of facing it,” he continued, “I built a wall around myself.”

Today, his words weren’t excuses; they were admissions. Every letter felt like it cost him a piece of himself.

“I know I hurt you,” he said, his voice breaking. “And I know I can’t undo that. But when you lost your memory… I don’t know. It felt like I had this chance to—to start over. To be the man you deserved. To show you the kind of love I’ve always wanted to give you.”

You blinked back tears. It was like piecing together the puzzle of your past, one fragment of pain at a time. “But you didn’t think to tell me?” you asked, “You didn’t think I deserved to know?”

A pang guilt crossed his face, his mouth falling into a frown. “I should have,” he admitted, “I should’ve told you everything from the start. But I was so scared that if you knew, you’d see the worst of me. That you’d hate me for it. And losing you… I couldn’t handle... couldn’t think….”

You wanted to yell at him, to tell him how much his silence had hurt you, how it had made you question everything. But you also understood, in a way that only love could explain. Alex’s little thought experiment made you connect to his fear— the paralysing fear of losing that meant so much to you. 

“I’m not going to pretend this doesn’t hurt,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears welling in your eyes. “I can’t go back to the way things were before, Bucky. No more lies, no more walls. If we’re going to try this— I need to know all of you. The good, the bad, the broken. All of it.”

His eyes widened.

A second chance—after everything he’d hidden from you? 

It seemed impossible— yet here you were, offering it to him.

He hesitated, then reached for your hand, still not believing that he deserved your touch.

When his trembling fingers brushed against yours, you didn’t pull away. Instead, you turned your hand, weaving your fingers through his.

“I promise,” he said, “I’ll be better. I’ll be honest. No more walls, no more hiding.”

His fingers tightened around yours, afraid you might still let go, afraid you might change your mind. 

But you held on, your grip firm “I don’t need you to be perfect,” you repeated. “I just need you to be honest. I need you to let me in.”

His breath faltered, and for a moment, he looked at you like you were the only thing that could keep him tethered to this earth. “I’ll let you in,” his voice broke. “I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that you made the right choice.”

As you sat there holding his hand, you felt the presence of something stronger than fear—hope.

“Can I kiss you?” He finally asked

Your heartbeat quickened, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his request. 

For a moment, you saw it—the life you both wanted, the way it could feel so right, so safe, in his arms. And yet, the cracks of what you’d been through together were still there. The answer that rose within you wasn’t what you’d expected, but it was clear.

“No.”

The word left your lips gently, but firmly. His thumb froze against your skin, his body tensing. The faintest flicker of hurt crossed his eyes. 

He opened his mouth to apologise, but before he could, you interrupted him.

“I’m not saying no forever,” you said, “But I want to take things slow. I need to trust that this—whatever we’re building now—isn’t just us rushing to cover up the hurt. I need to know it’s real.”

For a moment, he just looked at you. Slowly, his shoulders relaxed. A small, almost shy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “We’ll go as slow as you need,” he said.

He leaned back slightly, letting his fingers slip from yours.

There was no more resentment, no bitterness— only understanding. 

The two of you continued eating in silence, exchanging glances that lingered just a little longer than usual, small, subtle smiles that promised a fragile piece. Each moment felt like a step forward, like a rebuilding of trust, brick by brick, piece by piece.

When the meal was over, he stood to clear the dishes. As he walked past your chair, he paused. His fingers brushed against your shoulder, a fleeting touch. It wasn’t possessive or pleading anymore. Instead, it was a quiet reminder. I’m here. I’m staying. I’m not going to hide anymore.

And for the first time, you truly believed him. Not because he’d said the right thing, not because he was perfect. But because he was trying. 

Because he was human, and he finally saw himself that way. 

-To be continued…

Taglist :

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@notsostrangerthing @wintercrows @chiliwhore @mrsnikstan @bunnygirlwriter876

[a1ecmcdowell]

bonnie!reader & clyde!dean - the name of the game, baby!

includes, crime :( but for the good of the people! the sexual tension is high but nothing ever gets done ab it sorry for the edging pt 2 soon tho

★ ˚⋆

times were tough these days. dean hadn't known a moment of peace from the very moment he decided that hunting wasn't doing shit for sustaining him, and, well... when he met you.

he'd made up his mind already that hunting was a deadend for him. as much as it killed him to think, it was. how could you keep up a job that didn't pay you, and expect to stay afloat? he wasn't.

it started with dining and dashing when he could, scrounging together the scraps of change and loose bills in his pockets for better things than something like a meal that he had to have or he'd die. putting money directly into corporate pockets when he'd then be out of a bed for the night was not something that he ever wanted to do.

until he met you. by chance, and by the threads of fate, you wound yourself around his heart and never let go.

he was finishing up the handful of fries on his plate, eyes drifting around the room as the waitresses moved to-and-fro. they hadn't stopped by him in a while, so he figured that he was either safe, or about to get approached and interrogated about another round of beer.

he'd take one, sure, but it'd be added to a tab he wasn't going to pay, so it was in their best interest to keep their noses out of his business.

one of the women catches his eye anyways, and she's making her way over with a noticeable sway of her hips and a swish to her long blonde hair, when-

the bell over the entrance door rings as the glass bursts open. in stumbles you, buttoning up the white blouse you wore without even looking up from it, loose and disheveled hair swaying in the burst of air your entrance caused.

you were beautiful, even in your mess, and even when your mouth opened to beg for forgiveness to a man behind the counter. "sorry! my car is shit, it wouldn't start, and-"

"louise has been covering your ass for thirty extra minutes," the man interrupts, his face stoic and unbreakable. "unpaid. don't apologize to me on your lack of punctuality, apologize to louise."

dean watches the whole exchange from his red-cushioned booth by the window, each second making his eyes narrow further. great. now he was getting a heart about stealing from this joint, just because of the way he now knew you girls were treated here. probably would have to cover his tab yourselves.

he sighs. they can't all be winners.

you're making your way over to him, and at first, with his fry smothered in a slurry of ketchup, he thinks you must be the prettiest girl he's ever seen, and here he is, shoveling down fries like a starved man.

fry drops back onto the plate. the waitress who'd been on her way over to dean is halted by your worried little mouth running all over again. "louise-"

"fuck him. i don't mind a second of it." louise pats your forearm with her hand. "it's not even been busy. he's just a dick. this one's my last."

her free hand lifts to gesture at dean, and he again feels a flush of awareness when louise turns to him, and then follows you. your eyes nearly freeze him on the spot. big and bright. christ.

"no, it's okay, i've got him," you say, and the smile you give to him and then to her does freeze him, ice cold and solid in this shoddy little booth. "you just head on home, alright?"

dean at least tries to look like he hadn't been eavesdropping. drops his head again, picks up that discarded fry from his plate.

"hi, sorry about that," you say around a frazzled sigh when you approach his table, and he can't help but bristle at how many apologies he's heard you utter in the last five minutes, all of them unnecessary. "anything i can getcha?"

he actually cannot stop looking at you. you missed a button three down from your collar, the shirt a bit crooked because of the slip. your nimble hands were in the process of tying your hair up and out of your face, flyaways dancing in the fluorescents of the diner like strands of glitter.

no, he wasn't planning on getting anything else. had cemented that idea the moment he decided he couldn't just steal from this place.

but the thought of asking for the check after only getting a few moments with you... wasn't going to fly for him.

dean lifts the empty glass bottle from the edge of his table. "just another one of these, sugar."

your lips curl something wicked, and he doesn't know why, but he knows that he feels like a teenage boy again, with the way his heart flutters at the sight. "that it?"

"yeah, that's it," and you really are a little minx, not as innocent as the act you give to your boss and your coworkers, because he can almost see the fire brewing behind your eyes, "why, you got somethin' else you wanna give me?"

that usually gets him a flush, bright pink warmth on the faces of the waitresses he says it too. you, though, only seem to brighten at the question. fire stoked. "a piece of my mind, maybe."

"alright, so sit that pretty ass down and give it to me."

you seem taken aback by it for a second, your entire face warming to such a pretty pink. your eyes flit back to the kitchen, and then to the open space in the booth across from him, and slowly, you sink down into it.

"hit me, sugar," dean says, leaning back against the ruby red cushions, "give me a little piece of that mind."

"you were gonna steal, weren't you?" you say, so fast and quick that he's taken aback this time. "when lou was leavin'. you were bankin' on her back being turned."

dean resists the urge to whistle under his breath. what an odd little talent that is, catching crimes before they happen. "nah."

"'nah'," you mimic, and his eyebrows shoot up on his forehead, "i know your type. thinkin' you're some kind of robin hood, skippin' the dollar on big brother."

"i'm not going to, sugar," he insists, more firmly this time, feeling a little on edge by your blasé attitude. he'd expect someone so accurate in their assessments to already have him by the ear, leading him into the hands of the guys with cuffs. "can't make you pay for food you didn't eat, can i?"

"i can afford a beer and a plate of fries, babe," you shoot right back at him, a sickly sweet smile on those pretty pink lips of yours. "i can't afford to sit here and waste my time cracking jokes with a joke."

dean does whistle this time, a scoff of laughter falling from his mouth. "y'think i'm a joke, huh?"

"i think anyone who claims they're doing things to damn the man is." your arms fold over your chest, the blouse bunching up beneath your breasts and pushing them up just enough-- "hey. eyes up here." fuck. "that's exactly what i'm sayin'. all damn the man but you're still a tool."

"that mean you wanna use me?"

this little back and forth was the most fun dean had had in weeks. months, even, if he discredited the cheap nights with easy girls in dirty motel rooms.

"no," you stumble the words out, spluttering them out like they burn your tongue. "i don't even know your name."

"dean."

your eyes linger on his for a few moments longer, like you're trying to assess if this is another one of his lies. you must like what you see reflected back, though, because you smile, slow and languid. "dean."

the silence that follows is short-lived and buzzing. then, your lips part again. "were you really going to dine and dash?" a test. you don't sound mad, or like you're interested in turning him in at all.

his shoulders lift in a slight shrug. "that's just the name of the game, baby." he leans forward with his elbows resting on the rickety table between the two of you. "damn the man, right?"

one second passes, then two, and then you're snatching a fry from the plate in between you, dipping it in the pool of ketchup on the edge of his plate. "there are much more fun ways to damn the man."

notes, WEEEEEE i was gonna do fallen angel!dean first but something ab these two were STUCK in my head hope u dont mind

tags, @jasvtsc @depressionbarbie2023 @figthoughts @titsout4nicholas

(if u wanna be added to this btw / u are supposed to be and i keep forgetting pls know it's not a vendetta i am just a silly lil lady who doesn't know what she's doing ok)

[nochepsicodelica]

NSFW

Just some thoughts of you and Toji sharing a hotel room with Shiu when you go on a trip. There are two beds, you and Toji share one, and Shiu gets the other one to his mopey self, because his wife won't be there until the next day. He gets to warm the bed up on his own and he hates every minute of it, because one: he's third wheeling you and Toji, and two: you and Toji act as if he's not there when it's time to go to sleep.

"Why aren't you sleeping, pretty girl? Do I need to go down there and put you to sleep or what?" Toji murmurs.

You giggle, quietly. "Maybe. I do get pretty tired after you make me cum."

"Yeah, you do," he says, proudly. "You wet, right now, mama?" Toji asks, already unknotting the drawstrings of your shorts.

"Why don't you see for yourself?" You say, your voice too soft for what you're inviting him to do. Still, Toji bites and leans in to kiss you as his hand slides down the front of your shorts and beneath your panties. His hand meets your pelvis and continues its downward path, until his fingertips reach the messiness of your slick-ridden cunt. He teases you with barely there flicks of his fingers to your clit.

Shiu's eyes widen the slightest bit, before his eyebrows furrow. He swears he just heard a moan coming from the bundle of blankets on the right side of the room.

"Stop touching each other," he says, irritation heavy in his tone. "Jesus," he grumbles. The one time he didn't bring his headphones, the one time his wife isn't there to let him do the same things to her, that Toji is doing to you. And you both just continue to ignore him.

Your hand comes down to palm at the prominent bulge in Toji's boxers. You can feel his clothed cock twitching in your hand after every gentle squeeze you offer to the thick length.

"Fuck, don't tease me like that, doll. Touch it." His body jerks slightly when you slide your hand down his boxers and wrap it around his sticky length. "Shit, your hands are freezing," he whispers, hissing at the coldness that meets his warm skin.

"You want me to keep going or not?" You ask, teasingly, not stopping the movement of your hand as you wait for him to respond.

"Nah, nah, you're getting warmer. Keep going."

You both think you're doing so well at muffling each other's sounds of pleasure with deep kisses, but the sounds of heavier breathing and constantly rustling sheets in the otherwise steady room, are a dead giveaway to your indecent acts. Shiu has to choose between suffering by being uncomfortably hot with the blanket bundled around his head to shut out the sounds, or being comfortable and suffering with the clear sounds of your sexual antics.

"Shh," Toji hushes, when you let out a little whimper. "Just keep kissing me."

Despite how intense the sensations are, you both keep going. Toji's fingers don't stop rubbing your clit, and your hand doesn't stop gliding up and down his cock. You're both treating the act of sharing a bed as you usually do when you're alone, despite the poor man trying to sleep one bed over.

It takes hearing an uncontained high pitched gasp for Shiu to kick off his blanket and jump out of bed with a grumble. He grabs his car keys off the table and puts on his slippers, directing himself towards the door. "Going to the store. You two better be done by the time I come back."

The second the heavy door shuts, clothes are being pulled at through impatient, all consuming kisses. It gets to the point where you actually have to slow down to get them off, because you aren't making any progress, but once it's all discarded of, absolutely no time is wasted. Your legs find refuge hooked over Toji's shoulders, and his hands home to your hips and your waist. You both freely make as much noise as you want as you indulge in each other like you really are home alone. Minutes unknowingly turned into an hour and after four intense orgasms, you've tired each other out. Toji gets out of bed to grab a towel to clean you and himself up, and once the cleanup process is done, both of you fall asleep, soundly.

Shiu comes back half an hour after you both fell asleep. He's empty handed, looking a little more disheveled than when he left the room, because "going to the store" was code for sitting in his car and having phone sex with his wife. He tip toes further into the room to see if you and Toji are sleeping, and when he sees the way Toji is spooning you with his face pressed to the nape of your neck, and the way your hand rests on the arm he has slinged around your waist, he shakes his head and lets out a small chuckle.

"Rabbits."

[greatwyrmgold]

Obviously, the power (and even whether this gets bad enough to cause a trigger event) depends on a lot of details that your friend didn't tell us. But that just means we can fill in the blanks in a way that makes the story/powers work better.

My versions are below the cut.

Alex is the stubborn guy, Bob is the rich guy.

Version 1: The Involuntary Hermit

This version paints Bob as a bit of a capitalist supervillain...I mean, more than "deliberately depriving Alex of sunlight to drive him insane" implies.

Construction has already started, and they're laying foundations for a building that will obviously intersect with Alex's property. Every afternoon, when Alex is driving home from work, Bob's construction vehicles and supplies are in the road—not enough to actually block the road, just enough to make it inconvenient to return. There's a crane with a wrecking ball attached, parked in the lot next to Alex's, waiting.

Alex has complained to the police and City Hall and every other authority he can think about, but they say nothing Bob did is technically illegal. He considered suing Bob, but he can't afford the lawyer. He even contacted the news media, but no one with a significant audience wanted to run the story, not with how much hype there was around his new development.

Obviously, there's a Shaker element to this power, but the long-term and institutional aspects make me think Architect Tinker, specifically the terraform subtype. Alex can build megaprojects which reshape the landscape, both as an intentional design decision and an unavoidable side effect.

I've tried to narrow it down from there, but that's already got the Parahuman Knife-Twist. Alex got powers because he wanted to keep his home, but using those powers would destroy his home. (It's not like he has access to an off-site laboratory.)

I guess it needs to be something that Alex could build in his basement, but which can still have that kind of earthshaking effect. Maybe something seismic, Tecton on a larger scale? He can disrupt Bob's construction, wreck his scaffolding, topple his vehicles, but in the process he also damages his own house. And if he wants to use his powers to their fullest extent, he needs to go farther, destroying the entire neighborhood, replacing the house he knows and loves with a bunch of caves and maybe an earthy keep.

Version 2: Bound by Duty

In this version, Alex would have left long before the darkness-wall if it was just him. But it's not Alex's house, it's the house of Alex's aging relative(s); maybe grandparents, maybe parents, depends on how old Alex is. This Alex has to take care of his relatives, because no one else will. And they don't want to leave this house, come hell or high water.

Alex feels trapped, partly by his sense of filial duty, partly by the literal wall being built around the house said duty traps him in. So this feels like a Mover trigger.

Looking at the MOVERS document, I see elements of Takeoff (close relationship to the source of tension), maybe Hurdle (harassment), and Gate (long-term, but not long-term enough for a tinker power, because I don't want to write up a bunch of tinker powers). In reverse order, that's creating something that grants movement (like a launchpad or gate); a power that lets Alex "run, leap, climb and/or bound"; and an effect produced on departure.

There are a lot of ways to mix those ideas; imagine a power that could make boost pads like in racing games, or bounce pads like in platforming games, or...something not from video games. So let's look for the Parahuman Knife-Twist and build a power around that.

Alex is torn between his desire to help his family and the desire to leave. In theory there's a way to compromise those desires; living in a house surrounded by walls and whatever else Bob is building can't be good for them, right? So selling the house and moving somewhere else would be good for them, right? That's just not what they want. So a power that lets Alex move others (whether they want to be moved or not) seems like a good first step.

This Alex also doesn't have any goal more specific than "get away from Bob". He has a place he wants to escape, but not a specific destination. So maybe the movement should be unpredictable; he can decide on a general direction that someone bounces, but it's not precise or consistent.

So I was hanging out with a friend from the west coast today, and he mentioned an anecdote about some rich guy who was trying to buy up all the homes in a neighborhood, but there was this one guy who wouldn't sell no matter what, so the rich guy built giant walls on the edges of all the surrounding properties to try and drive the holdout insane from sunlight deprivation. I told my friend that this sounded like the kind of thing that would make for a fantastic trigger event. I told him I was going to turn this over to the wormblr brain trust to see what all of you would come up with

[ragde890]

So... Chainsaw Man chapter 185

This reveal is probably the craziest thing to come from this chapter. Not only is it an interesting call-back to Makima's speech back in chapter 84 (with the four possible conclussions other than death), but also raises some questions.

The birth related symbology around Chainsaw Man is undeniable: chainsaws were originally created for Symphysiotomy (the predecessor of the C-section), Hero of Hell Pochita has his umbilical cord around the neck like a rope, and the motherhood symbolisms in both Makima and Yoru. Because of this, people have speculated that Pochita is actually the Birth Devil. Plus, it would make sense thematically for the strongest devil to represent the fear of being born into this world (kinda similar to the shtick Fire Punch had going on, in a way).

However, this reveal makes things a little more complicated, as it allows new speculation points to be discussed. Humans turn into trees when they reach the culmination of thought (a process Pochita erased and is only possible in Aging's pocket reality where death doesn't exist), and chainsaws are meant to cut trees.

Is this what Barem meant with Chainsaw Man's original purpose? To bring an end to those stuck in these state? Chainsaw Man is a force of motion: he always gets up, and his chainsaws need to revolve around themselves in order to cut. Is he like this because his original purpose was also to make sure the world doesn't stagnate, granting an ending to these people who already reached their conclusion, thus providing space for new life to exist and giving motion to the world?

At first I thought Aging's world was a reference to Dante's Seventh Circle of Hell, "The Wood of the Self-Murderers". I still don't discard it, but now I'm not so sure of where is Fujimoto trying to get to with this.

It looks like we'll have to wait at least a few more chapters to see what's Fujimoto cooking...

[auroras-zenith]

what doesn't kill you // part 3

you had your whole life planned out for you; start an agency with your best friend, scale the charts and make japan your bitch. but when a tragic accident leaves you incapacitated and out of a job, you find you just need to start fresh. you cut ties–and for two years, you've all but disappeared. until they need you again and come knocking at your door.

bakugo x retiredpro!reader

prologue ✧ previous ✧ next

"They say there's a chance you could learn to walk again." He offered, trying to be as optimistic as he could. Lord knows you didn't need another thing to feel bad about.

"How big a chance?"

He flushed, looking away.

He had caught you after you had passed out, moving to sit beside you afterward.

The nurses were beginning to bustle about. You had caught a few pitying glances already–each one only making you wish your bed would swallow you whole.

"It's been done before."

"I know you know the stats." You said with a sigh.

He sighed too, squeezing your hand. "I just... I don't want you to feel like you can't. I know you can."

"Izuku."

He winced. "One in a hundred."

You sunk a little lower beneath the sheets at that.

The silence stretched on, neither of you knowing exactly what to say after that.

"Sorry I'm late." The door quietly swung shut behind the heterochromic boy as he moved to take a seat beside you; saving both of you from the awkward tension. "I couldn't get out of the press conference."

Right. Because for the rest of them, hero work went on.

You pushed the thought to the corner of your mind, adding it to the list of things you'd think about later.

He pulled a chair over, blank eyes softening as he saw you. He leaned over to give you a quick hug. "I'm happy you're okay." He said softly.

"How'd it go? Have you guys found him?" You asked, ignoring the last comment for no reason beyond its awkward nature.

You had learned from Midoriya that you had been out for two weeks, but he hadn't any other information. Apparently, he had spent most of his time here with you.

Todoroki nodded. "Bakugo did. The day after the incident." He informed you solemnly.

Your heart clenched oddly at the name.

"He got to the fucker before the authorities could. Beat him up pretty bad. For a second it looked like Bakugo was going to be charged with assault because the villain could barely walk after, but... given the circumstances..." He looked down, shaking his head.

You flicked a piece of lint off your blanket glumly. "Suppose he's been pretty busy then." You muttered bitterly.

That was the next question you had grilled Midoriya for. Turned out, in the half a month you had been in a coma, Bakugo hadn't dropped by once.

Todoroki looked at you, blinking slowly. "Y/n, it's not like that."

You scoffed but said nothing.

"It really isn't. He was so angry. He is so angry. He didn't go home that night. He stayed up until dawn looking for the villain and didn't stop till he found the guy." He told you. "He's just processing."

You sighed, turning to look out the window. "I guess." You just wished that he could process here. With you. And maybe some better food.

"He'll visit soon."

It was like that for the next couple of days. All of your friends, acquaintances, even a bunch of people you knew only by name–all showing up to wish you a speedy recovery and look at you with their pitying gazes that made your skin crawl.

And yet through it all, Bakugo never showed up.

"Are you up for another visitor?"

You looked up, slightly surprised to see a purple haired girl standing in the doorway. Jirou, as you recalled from high school–or rather, Earphone Jack she went by now.

You shrugged, nodding sulkily. What did it matter, really?

"Thanks for coming." You spoke quietly. So unlike your usual self.

She stared at you for a minute as you stared firmly at your lap. Everyone's pity was starting to drown you alive–and you had concluded that the only way to survive it was to pretend it wasn't there.

"Hiroshi and Yutaka Kota." She finally broke the silence.

You glanced up, confused. "What?"

"The children you saved." The girl answered. "Those were their names."

You shook your head. She must've been confused. "I wasn't able to save them." You whispered, hands clenched tightly together in your lap. "I was too slow.

"You're wrong. They were a bit banged up, but thanks to you they had just enough time to escape before the building really collapsed."

That couldn't have been right. And yet you wished so dearly that it was. You felt tears welling up in your eyes again–whether because you were happy or sad you weren't quite sure.

"I'm really sorry that this happened to you." She said quietly.

But there was something off about her tone. It wasn't pitying. Didn't feel like nails on a chalkboard as most people's did so often nowadays. It was... understanding. It was actually quite nice.

"But I thought it'd be nice for you to know that it wasn't for nothing. Including those two, 326 people accredit their lives to you, Cordelia."

You looked away, feeling the tears leak down your cheeks now.

"Thank you." You whispered. "It was getting really tiring hearing people tell me how 'at least I didn't die,' or some other unrealistically optimistic bullshit."

She snorted. "That's lowkey a weird thing to say to someone."

"Tell me about it."

She looks at you, and smiles.

Why had you two not been close before? You had both gone to UA together–hell, you two had more mutuals than you could count. And yet, you had never found yourselves in the other's company; and even after you both graduated, you never saw her on the field.

"Are you going to go to the hero gala?" She asked after a beat of pause.

Right. The hero gala. In the grand scheme of things, it just seemed so trivial now. "I didn't think I was still invited." You said honestly, letting your shoulders rise and fall.

"Of course you are." She corrected. "Cordelia, if anyone can learn to walk again? It's you. And even if you can't, that doesn't change your legacy. You're amazing, dude."

You smiled softly down at your sheets. "Yeah, I guess. Maybe. I'll think about it."

"Do. It's in three days. I'll see you there, okay?"

"Wait." You called as she stood before she could make it all the way to the door. "Why did you visit me?" You asked at last.

She smiled to herself, as if thinking upon a fond memory. "You're awesome. I always see you on the news. You're revolutionizing the space. Paving the way for women. It's amazing. Honestly." She told you proudly. "You're amazing, Cordelia."

For the first time in weeks, the load in your eyes lightened slightly, and you felt your lips tug into a small smile. It didn't erase the ache in your heart or bring back feeling to your legs, but it was something.

a/n: istg my tags are broken 🥲 sorry if ur tag doesn't work

taglist:@floverisland @biancatomlinson @rosaryia @highlandhyena @sarashu @rednicotine @emmaiscool22 @your-mum3000 @whoreforfictionalmen18 @sikuthealien

permanent tags: @phtmmsqrde @pikachuzhc

[genericpuff]

Looking back on it, Rachel really should have called Lore Olympus something else. It really doesn't seem to want to focus on 'lore' or 'olympus' and would rather be a romance with her self insert and celebrity crush. So many plot points and characters got thrown away for her two characters. It reminds me of Twilight having interesting background characters (Rosalie deserved better) and an interesting supernatural world. Yet Stephanie just focused on the dry ass romance of Edward and Bella.

I mean, the title totally worked in the beginning, the comic just lost the plot after its first season and became more like what you're describing, a weird May December romance about a girl who's only empowered enough to wait until marriage with the first guy she ever crushed on before having sex 💀

And yeah true that, a lot of fantasy dark romances like Twilight suffer from the issue of getting too hyperfocused on the main couple doing stuff and not paying enough attention to the actually interesting stuff going on around them. Though I will say, in Twilight's case, a lot of the "interesting stuff" was grossly misrepresented from Indigenous tribes and beliefs so... maybe it's for the best Stephanie didn't expand too much on it all in the end LMAO

Of course, the same can be said for LO, there were some really interesting plot hooks happening around H x P, but by the time S2 rolled around, all of those hooks got shoved under the bed until it was time to hastily wrap them up for those of us who were waiting to see them resolved. I think the Hera and Echo plotline was one of the worst culprits for that, you can tell in S2 she had an idea for some kind of "double agent" story with Echo where Echo would slowly come around to Hera's side and have to choose between her and the job Zeus clearly hired her for (to spy on Hera) - but then it just wound up skipping all that so we could watch Hades and Persephone play golf with diamonds, go shopping, and fuck around in the Underworld, until Rachel had to suddenly wrap up the entire Hera x Echo story in the most rushed, confusing way possible just a handful of episodes before the end.

LO had a lot of interesting concepts and ideas especially with the added benefit of it being based off myths that many readers were already familiar with, but unfortunately they were in the hands of a terrible writer working for a terrible company that didn't provide her with the resources she needed and could have really benefited from to tell a better story. It clearly needed a more involved editing process, more drafts to work through and scrap and work through again, more time to really plan out the full skeleton of the story, but what we got instead was more like a rushed first draft that spent more time on the bland uninteresting DDLG couple because they were clearly the easiest things Rachel could write about - fantasy shipping scenarios of them talking romantically to each other, making out, and having sex, boom, plot 🥴