#but i don't know if im making that up if that makes sense?????

[2bu]

OP, I hope this is okay to add - I recently spoke in depth about the topic of AUs where Anya keeps the baby here... more specifically ONE AU where the artist tried to be respectful and realistic.

What I do want to say here is a few things:

We have no idea how Anya really felt about the baby and keeping it. We can infer, but there's little to no evidence or dialogue we get to have about her feelings about this child, though we can use context clues to infer. This is not me defending these AUs inherently, or thinking they're good. I am just trying to gently point out that there were potentially more than just the one reason she ended her life. We don't get her POV or thoughts or feelings thanks to Curly and mainly Jimmy's POVs being the forefront focuses.

This is really important, far more important for me to say because with the current climate surrounding women's rights when it comes to abortions and the real reality of being a victim of SA and experiencing pregnancy as a result... I am begging people to please watch what they say about the topic of Anya keeping the baby period. The reality is: rape victims more often than not, for multiple reasons, DO keep their babies. This doesn't make them or their children bad people. I am speaking from personal experiences and after having spoken to beloved, long term friends who kept their babies after their assaults. I implore a LOT of you to rethink how you've responded to AUs like the one I specifically linked about because the shit you say does have a real impact. You can't say you're speaking for victims or defending victims if you show disdain and disgust about a very real reality for many people IRL. You can't be prochoice and then show disgust when a parent keeps their child.

I do agree with everything else you have said and do not really condone the treatment of Anya in the fandom or just generally speaking. I do believe people lack nuance in many areas when it comes to this game, especially with what I said here.

I genuinely think Mouthwashing fandom is a good example on how real life misogyny is very wired on people brains and influenced how they engage with fictional misogyny.

You have a story about a woman being assaulted and telling a man he trusted but being dismissed because he is friends with the attacker, and people fixate on shipping her with either of those me.

You have a story about how men that downplay their male friends violence, assume neutrality is the safer option, unintentionally help create an environment that's unsafe to vulnerable people, at a risk becoming a victim themselves. And people make it about toxic yaoi.

You have a character kill herself because she didn't want birth the child of her abuser. And people make AUs where she happily keep the baby.

Misogyny isn't just "I hate this women", it's also downplaying their trauma, defending those who caused it, and reducing them to mothers or wives against their wished under this idea of what womanhood is about.

I don't think we can separate fandom misogyny from it's real world influence, not yet.

[celestailio]

a long night ( gojo x gn!reader )

outline: it’s late at night, and you have a math exam tomorrow. the loud music from a birthday party down the hall is making it hard for you to sleep. frustrated and needing some comfort, you decide to call your boyfriend, satoru, for support.

contains: gojo x gn!reader, college au, fluff, lots of fluff, common uni problems, reader is going through something and just satoru being the best boyfriend.

wc: 3.2k

a/n: i am thinking of making this a series. as much as i hate colleges and uni, i am a sucker for the aus ahhh. what do y'all think? this is an old work. i wrote this back in august when i had exams and was going through a similar situation. anyway, enjoy as always i appreciate any feedback <333

muffled music. loud vibrations. blurry vision.

this was getting too much now. it's past two in the morning. you just came back from the library after a gruelling study session much needed for your math exam tomorrow. 

it's been three hours of you trying to sleep. no matter what you do, sleep always seems to evade you during this time of dire need to just slip away from everything. away from the waking world. you’d sure you had done everything you could to set yourself up for the long night.

you jumped straight into a hot shower after you came home. it was refreshing and relaxing, easy on your muscles, and left you feeling rejuvenated. and don't forget to eat a proper dinner. the simple vegan salad with roasted cauliflower, kale, and cucumbers which you brought from the local café was crunchy and fulfilling. after dinner, you revised the exam materials for half an hour before deciding it was time for bed. 

following your night routine, teeth brushed and mouth fresh, the cooling sensation of an expensive skin mask on your face was sufficient to set you in the mood for winding down. you quickly sent your boyfriend a good night message to which he, as usual responded with an unnecessary amount of kiss emojis and mwahs. of course, his evening delight was topped with a voice recording of his sweet, sweet voice wishing his baby a nighty night, which always made you laugh and left your heart full of love.

a sense of pride settled in your chest as you made yourself comfortable in your sheets and you recall how productive your day was. you felt more than prepared for the exam tomorrow, and the only thing left was to catch up on some sleep so wake with a fresh mind. ready to tackle the horrors of calculus. except not a single thing went according to the plan.

at first, it was the hotness. you felt like a frog being prepared for a slow boil. the puffy blankets came off first. they usually brought you peace and comfort during cold and lonely nights were starting to irritate your skin but right now its fabric no longer silky soft as it grazes against your already swollen skin akin to a worn out rag. 

next, turning off the heater and opening the window for some fresh air was a good idea, as you instantly started feeling better, the body slowly but surely radiating excess heat. it wasn’t long before you quickly slipped into the blackness. it was peace for a short time before a loud bang echoes through the corridors of your floor.

what the fuck was that?

you jump from your bed and glide towards your door before looking out from the peephole. a number of students dressed in flimsy outfits and party hats run across the hallway, their footsteps similar to those of horses, before vanishing from your view leaving behind the faint smell of cake and spilled drinks, and a mess of confetti on the carpet. gosh, can these people keep it cool? not only is it the quiet hours but an exam period too. keep it down for god’s sake. 

all the progress flushed down the drain. back at point zero. for fuck’s sake.

with heavy steps, you crawl back to your bed, once again laying on the white floral sheets. this time for sure. you were going to fall asleep. but little did you know, their sudden presence was a sign of impending chaos. 

immediately loud disco music started playing from the direction of the common room where you assumed the party people were the ones behind it. the high intensity of the volume was making your eardrums hurt, each beat drop like a hammer on your skull. the strong thumps of the bass penetrating through the walls were enough to make your heart throb. the thunderous applause and cheers were clouding your rationality. ears ringing and brain switching to meltdown mode.

you jolted up and quickly searched beneath your pillows and sheets for your earphones, looked up a noise blocker on the phone. the bright light from the phone’s screen is harsh on your eyes. picking the first one it came up with, you hastily plugged the buds in your ear, desperate to keep your calm and pressed play. you laid back on the bed and put your focus on the white static buzzing in your ears. 

in the beginning, it felt like a fresh breath of air as the loud disturbances faded away in the background, leaving behind the calm you were yearning for the last three hours. soon you became accustomed to the noise, and despite the white static, the thumping bass and vibrations still rang in your ears, gnawing at your last nerve.

you tossed and turned, trying to find a position that might bring some comfort, fiddling with the phone’s volume. even at the maximum, it was of no use. this blocker barely did a good job masking the noises. 

i can’t take this anymore. need to do something.

your patience was wearing thin. sitting up abruptly, you grabbed your phone and considered your options. reporting the noise to the dorm authorities seemed like the best course of action right now. you typed out a quick email, explaining the situation and pleading for some peace and quiet. 

as you waited for a response, you couldn’t help but think about how this lack of sleep would affect your exam. the anxiety was starting to creep in, and you felt your chest tighten again. a ping erupts from your phone, and there was a response.

hello,

we have looked into your request. unfortunately, no campus staff are on duty due to the weekend. rest assured, tomorrow anyone who has broken residence protocols will have to face proper punishment.

thank you and have a good night.

residence life.

you stare at the message, feeling a mix of frustration and helplessness before tossing your phone aside. 

so much for getting any help.

with a heavy sigh, you lay back down, trying to focus on the white noise still playing in your ears. the music from the common room continues to pound through the walls, each beat a reminder of your growing exhaustion. you feel tears brimming in your eyes before huffing out a laugh. 

can’t believe it, crying at such a minor thing. at this point, staying in your room seemed more like being in a torture chamber. maybe you should go to the library and spend the night there, but isn’t it close? another groan. you definitely need to advocate along with the student union for the libraries to stay open twenty-four seven.

what else? oh, you could certainly crash at your best friend’s instead? no wait.

satoru…

the thought of him brings a small smile to your face. satoru had always been your strength, your one and only. the one person who could calm you down no matter what. he always knew how to make you feel better with his silly jokes and innocent kisses, even in the worst situations. 

but it’s so late. the clock reads 2:58 a.m. and you don’t want to disturb him. still, the idea of spending the night at his place is irresistible, cuddled against his chest, cocooned in his strong arms with his heavenly scent surrounding you like a bubble. god's you miss him so much to care right now.

you grab your phone again. navigating to his contact. you hesitate for a moment as the affectionate name he had set on your phone, satoru with a big blue heart, stares back at you. you know he says to call him anytime, anywhere you want. you know he will always be here for you, but he’s already had many other troubles weighing him down. and what if he’s already fast asleep? 

it doesn’t help that you want nothing in the world right now but to be in his warm, loving arms hidden away from the cold world.

your hands tremble slightly as you try to come up with something. 

satoru, u awake?

sent: 2:59 am

you set aside the device. as hopelessness once again settles deep in your bones. you guess he’s already asleep. sighing, you bury your head under the blankets before a familiar ping rings in the room.

yeah, bby. what’s up?

read: 3:01 am

your heart skips a beat as you see his reply. you quickly type back, your fingers shivering slightly with anxiety.

can we call?

read: 3:02 am

almost immediately, your ringtone starts blaring through your room. as his contact name displays on your phone’s screen. you waste no time accepting his call, eager to hear his sweet voice. you switch to the speaker mode, and put the phone near your ear as you lay down once again.

“satoru.” you breathe out, feeling a wave of relief wash over you as his calm breathing fills the air.

“my baby.. why are you up so late?” his voice is hoarse yet soft.

you can hear him shuffling in the background, the loud rustling of the sheets drowning out the static. oh, he was definitely sleeping before you called him. guilt eats you up, and you bite down on your lips.

‘’what’s going on?’’ he speaks, concern seeping into his words. silence lingers in the air as you struggle not to cry on the call. 

oh my god, why am i like this?

“i can’t sleep.” you admit after a minute, your voice barely above a whisper. it remains quiet between the two of you before you start ranting.

“it’s just someone throwing a party around the corner, and it’s just so loud, everything is. i just feel like i can’t breathe properly, and it sucks that i got an exam tomorrow-’’

‘’hey, hey. baby deep breaths, yeah?’’

you follow his instructions, breathing in and out with his counting, matching his pace.

“you don’t have to explain anything.” you hear a zipper sound and clink before the locking and closing of a door.

“gimme a sec baby, i am coming to get you.’’

you feel a rush of gratitude at his words. “thank you,” you whisper, trying to keep your voice steady.

“anything for my darling,” he replies softly. “just hang tight, i’ll be there soon.”

he blows some kisses like usual, and you end the call. sitting up, you quickly made your way towards the washroom gathering a few essentials into a small bag. since satoru already had some of your clothes in his room, you’d reckon you need anything else.

he is always pleading with you to leave behind your shirt or a hoodie whenever you visit his place, saying that it helps him on the lonely nights when you can’t be with him. near him. constantly talking about the soothing effect of your scent while he sleeps. you always teased him about this, but he was unaware that you had stolen some of his sweatshirts for the exact reason.  

you chuckle at the fond memory as you finish packing up. the noise from the party still reverberates through the walls, but knowing satoru is on his way makes it more bearable. you slip on your shoes and hoodie, ready to leave as soon as he arrives.

a few minutes later, there’s a gentle knock on your door. you open it to find satoru standing there, his hair dishevelled as he has just woken up. a plastic bag in his hand and with a reassuring smile on his face. as soon as he sees you, he pulls you into a tight hug, his calming scent infiltrates your nose, and his warmth immediately melts away the tension in your body.

“my baby. i am here now, yeah.” you can’t help but cry at his caring words and actions. satoru holds back a coo and gently pats your head, threading his fingers through your hair.

“let’s get you out of here, mhm.”  

he murmurs, gently pulling away before planting a gentle kiss on your lips. you smile at his gesture, and he mirrors the same. you see his large hands coming up to cup your face caressing the skin softly before he kisses you again. he pulls away and pinches your cheeks. 

“stop it ‘toru!” you grumble against him, and he laughs hysterically. the sound a pleasant melody for your parched ears.

keeping an arm around you, he leads you down the hallway and out of the dorm. the snowstorm is still going on, but the cold night air is a welcome change as you take a deep breath, feeling a bit more grounded.

“i brought soda and pocky of course.”

“soda at this time?”

“heh. you never know, baby.” he presses a quick kiss against your hairline.

“you’re such a dork.”

“mhm.”

the walk to his car is quiet. unlike you, satoru lives in his own apartment complex away from all the hustle and bustle of the university. many times, he had asked you to move in with him, but you’d always come up with an excuse before changing the subject. well, you didn’t outright reject him. it’s just that you feel like once he starts living with you, his idea of you might change for the worse. and you don’t want that. even though you know it’s not fair, you kept giving him false hope until he stopped asking one day.

you lean into him, drawing comfort from his presence, as you both reach his car. satoru opens the car door for you and shoots you a wink. always the gentleman. you slide into the passenger seat. he follows quickly, leaning over you and strapping your seatbelt.

“need to keep my baby safe.”

“hey!” you snort.

he chuckles and pinches your cheek like he always does before putting on his own seatbelt. soon he starts the engine, the soft hum of the car providing a soothing background noise. throughout the drive, satoru keeps up a steady stream of playful commentary of a random movie he watched some time ago. his dumb jokes and dialogues make you laugh despite yourself.

“i’ve got you, baby,” he says softly after the playfulness has subsided, his eyes briefly meeting yours before focusing back on the road. he reaches over and takes your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

you squeeze his hand back as you nod, feeling the warmth of calmness settle over you. the drive to his apartment is quiet, the city lights casting a gentle glow through the windows. you lean your head against the seat, closing your eyes and letting the rhythmic motion of the car lull you into a state of relaxation.

when you arrive at his apartment, satoru helps you out of the car and leads you inside. he helps you with taking your boots off, sneaking in little massages on your feet before you yell at him to stop. you’ve told him countless times that it is ticklish, but satoru will never stop doing that if it meant seeing you laugh.

the familiar scent of his place is comforting, and you feel a wave of relief knowing you’ll be able to rest here. he guides you to his room, where he has already set up a cozy spot with blankets and pillows. his room is a sanctuary of repose, with soft luminescence seeping in through his curtains. the faint fragrance of his cologne dances in the air.

“when did you do all of this?”

“what can i say? i am just that good.” he hums, standing proudly by his little creation.

“no seriously, ‘toru.” you hit his head before shimmying out of your jacket and tossing it towards him, which he catches effortlessly. you jump onto his bed and slip under his fluffy blankets. a moan escapes you as the mattress folds under your weight, finally feeling a sense of relief.

satoru looks at you, his heart swelling up with adoration.

“comfy?” he asks teasingly as he smirks and takes off his own jacket. you stare at him as he's ruffling his hair to remove the melting snow from his white locks. 

“very,” you reply, your eyes closing as you sink deeper into the blankets. “you really saved me, ya know.”

he chuckles, moving to sit beside you on the bed. “like i always say, there's nothing i won't do for my baby,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. 

satoru takes in the sight of you looking so much at peace. he brushes a strand of hair from your eyes and slides in next to you. you turn your body towards him, shuffling closer, seeking his presence. he responds immediately by embracing you tightly.

the skin to skin contact is pleasant as he pulls you in even closer until there’s not an inch left between the two of you. you listen closely to his steady breathing as he resumes rubbing up and down, from your neck all the way to your waist. his warmth and presence are a balm to your frayed nerves, and you feel the stress of the night slowly melting away.

“get some sleep, baby. you’ve got a big day tomorrow,” he murmurs softly against your hair, lifting himself to turn off the table lamp.

“i’ve got you.” you nod, resting your head against his shoulders. he plants one last kiss on your head.

as you drift off to sleep, satoru watches you with a soft smile. he doesn’t mind getting up in the middle of the night to drive you away from the noise and chaos. for him, it’s worth every second just to see you smile and relax. he wants to do everything he can to make you happy, to keep you safe and comfortable in his arms forever.

he gently brushes a knuckle against your cheek, his heart vibrating with love and affection. seeing you at peace, knowing that he can provide you with a sanctuary from the world, fills him with a sense of purpose and joy. he places a soft kiss on your lips and prays that the night’s rest will help you perform your best tomorrow.

and when you come running to him after your exam, a big grin on your face, as you excitedly show him the bright red ninety-eight on your paper, his heart flutters with pride and joy. at that moment, satoru knows that all the trouble is worth it—that you are worth it.

[buckysfaveplum]

doomsday

summary: missions don't always go according to plan, sometimes you lose people- that's the job. bucky told you that himself.

pairing: bucky barnes x female reader

word count: 3k

warnings: violence, character death, um yea this one's sad. OH and Steve is dead in this (I mean he was like 90 something in endgame...)

a/n: GUYS omg i missed youuu i hope you remember me. its been like almost two years? i moved to ireland and started grad school! things are different. buttt here’s a new fic cause i’m back!!! ANGST omg im sorryyyy.... idk I wanted to right something that hurt okay okay bye (:

masterlist | send requests

You hated funerals. 

The suffocating smell of formaldehyde and roses wafted through the wake hall. The sounds of distant friends and relatives feigning grief, playing up small interactions with the deceased as more than just pleasantries while siblings and best friends' voices seem to be gone with a lack of words to express their suffering. The stale cookies and donuts in the hall, as if someone’s lover isn’t lying in a casket 50 feet away. All wrapped up in black dresses, suits, and handkerchiefs.

You hated funerals.

Today was no exception. An agent lost on a routine mission in Guam, taking out an arms dealer terrorizing a village. There were loose connections to Hydra, but just petty violence and shootouts for nothing. It shouldn’t have resulted in the loss of an agent. But sometimes things go wrong. A gun barrel stalls, someone trips, a civilian happens to be in the way. Sometimes people die. That’s how you ended up here.

Sarah was a good agent, a great one. She was top of her class at Westpoint, went straight to the FBI, and was recruited into SHIELD- all before 30. She was good- too good for a slip-up like this.

As speeches wrapped up, family and friends began to say their goodbyes. A line formed at the casket as people poured their hearts out for the redhead you once called a friend. You waited patiently at the back, making sure you were one of the last. You always did. Maybe out of respect, perhaps guilt? Who knows. You always felt guilt, even if there was nothing to be done. There was guilt.

Finally, as the small crowd left the room, flooding into the hall outside, you made your way to the front. Laid out before you, Sarah’s curly and wild hair was in two thick braids on each side of her head, a blue dress covering her as well as a soft cream cardigan. She looked beautiful and peaceful. But she was dead. Your friend was dead. No makeup or pretty clothes would lessen that blow. The plush velvet of the casket seemed to soften the prison that her body would rest in. At every funeral, you were reminded of how you wished to be cremated.

“I’ve never seen her hair so flat,” you turned to see Bucky standing beside you.

“You know, even wet her hair always seemed to spring up. Had a mind of its own,” you said, your gaze resting on him.

He was clad in a simple black suit, an older set you’d gotten him at a vintage shop. Something familiar. A simple cream button-down, no tie. It was simple, but that was him. What was most striking though was his serene demeanor. It never seemed to settle with you how unaffected by death he was. How easily he was able to gather himself and keep going. You couldn’t blame him though, 90 years of pain, death, torture, and violence will do that to you. You’d only seen him torn up once. And it was beyond devastating. Steve. “You okay, kid?” he asked, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. 

He was your partner, in every sense of the word. In the field, as a friend, in life. He was everything. Your taut shoulders melted under the firm comfort of his vibranium arm. You could rest in its embrace a thousand times and never cease to crave its solace when away. He was your rock through every debriefing, call to family, black dress, and smeared mascara. Who knows what you would be without him?

You rested your head on his chest, breathing in the potent smell of his old cologne and something that was distinctly Bucky. 

“I hate funerals.”

——

“Do you ever think about dying?”

Bucky’s grip on you tightened slightly at your words. Wrapped in the soft linen of your duvet and the sunlight streaming in through your windows, his body lay around yours. His short choppy locks were tousled fresh from his slumber. The previous night’s sleep had yet to let go of his consciousness fully, still cozy and relaxed in your shared bed. His vibranium fingers continued to play with your hair as he considered your question.

“Not anymore,” he said.

Your face scrunched in confusion at his words. Your fingers traced gently over the thick scars on his left shoulder. They mangled and twisted, sprouting in angry red from the line where his skin met vibranium. Shuri had done her best to soften the tissue when replacing his arm, but only so much could be done.

“I did a lot when I was first drafted. I was scared of it then. And in those early days under Hydra. It was all-consuming. But at some point, I wasn’t scared of it, I embraced it- prayed for it,” your fingers froze at his words. It was nothing new to you, you had spent countless late nights and early mornings recounting the abuse of his days as the Winter Soldier. But hearing him say flat out how he wished to die. That was jarring. “After the Blip, I’ve just become a bit numb to it. I don’t really think about it if that makes sense. It could always happen.”

His hands danced down your spine as if his words were simple.

“You expect it?” You asked, propping yourself up on your elbow.

“It’s the job, Y/N. It comes with the territory. Sometimes you lose people. And it could always be you,” he said, giving you a soft look. “You know that, doll”.

“I just, I don’t expect it in the field you know?” you relaxed a bit, regretting the subject you forced upon him.

“Hey, maybe that wasn’t the best way to put it,” he said, giving you a ginger smile as he leaned close and cupped your cheeks in his hands. “Death has just followed me for a long time, doll. I mean I’m a 106. I’m just not scared of it anymore.”

You tucked yourself into his chest, his words soothing the fears swirling in your mind. You knew the job was dangerous. That any mission could be the last. You just hoped it would never be him.

“Why do you always pick the heaviest topics of discussion early in the morning?” he asked, his voice still groggy from sleep. He smiled as you chuckled against his chest. 

“Probably cause I’m hungry, Plum,” you said, turning to lay on your back as you smiled up at him. 

“Yea? What could we do about that, huh?” that devilish smirk of his could stop your heart anytime and you’d be grateful. “Pancakes? Clinton St?” 

You nodded eagerly at his suggestion before taking his hand and slipping from the bed.

——

The rumbling of the quinjet shot up your spine. Sam and Bucky’s relentless bickering filled the steel jet as you came closer to your destination. Your gloved hands worked at strapping your knives to your thighs as they quarreled over how best to stain wooden beams in Sam’s living room during your and Bucky’s next trip down to Louisiana.

“No! NO! Buck, that stain doesn’t go with the accent wood in the kitchen! I already told you,” Sam said as he fixed his shield to his back. You chuckled as you walked over to them. Your backup squad, full of agents fresh from SWORD’s training academy, snickered at the two men as Bucky rolled his eyes.

“The beams are in your living room, what does it matter?” He said. 

“I wouldn’t take any interior design advice from him, he wanted a purple couch in our living room,” you said, wrapping your arms around Bucky’s waist. Sam laughed as he turned to grab the mission report. The jet was drawing close, entering stealth mode and preparing for landing.

“It was a plum color,” Bucky grumbled, nuzzling his face into your hair. 

“Okay team, huddle up!” Sam said. “This is just a simple in and out. We gotta get these hostages out safely so no risky moves- I’m lookin’ at you, Buck.”

Bucky threw his hand up in defeat, scoffing jokingly under his breath. 

“I’ll swoop through and scout entrances, Squad Two you’ll be with me for direct combat. We’re clearing out the building. Squad One, you’ll be with Y/N and Bucky, you’re getting those hostages out. You bring them straight back here, got it? There’s four so it shouldn’t be too strenuous,” he said, closing up his report before slipping on his cowl. “Alright team, let’s show ‘em what we got.”

——

Fluorescent red light filtered across your face as you slipped through the hallways. Half the squad led ahead of you, banging on doors in search of the hostages. Bucky hung close behind you, the rest of your squad keeping your entrance open for your escape. His hand rested on the gun strapped to his hip as he kept an eye on your blind spots.

Watching your back on the field was second nature to him. Protecting you, be it on the subway or in an active battle zone, was something he felt born to do. A reason to survive all those years under Hydra.

After several doors, your team stopped; having heard the pleas for help on the other end of the steel doors, they backed up to allow room for an agent to blast the lock. You stumbled back into Bucky, tripping on your own feet. His arms caught you before you could even glance at the floor. You felt his fingers gripping your hips and fidgeting with the straps on your thighs as you straighten.

“Some reflexes you got,” you whispered to him.

“Can’t let my babydoll fall,” he said, kissing the back of your head before his focus shifted back to the lock, now falling to the floor.

The agents flooded into the room, pulling hostages out and bringing them back into the hall. As they streamed out, you realized something was wrong. You only counted 3.

“Where’s the fourth hostage?” you asked. 

Bucky commed Sam, hoping he’d scanned the place and found a lead. As he spoke, you gathered the agents, giving them an order. Lead them through the building, get out to the other half of the squad, and get them into the jet. You’d meet them on the other side. You and Bucky would find the last hostage. The agents fled, leaving you and Bucky alone in the dark hallway. 

“Where are they?” you asked. Bucky sighed, as he grabbed a knife from his hip.

“In the lab in the basement, must’ve been the first to get taken,” he said.

The hostages weren’t nobodies. Prisoners were taken from SWORD on a mission to squash a newly established radical group. A group that seemed to resonate with the ideas of Hydra. This mission was all too familiar to Bucky, and all the more upsetting. You gave his free hand a firm squeeze before you turned and bolted to the lab.

You could feel the heaviness of the lab as soon as you entered the basement. The looming presence of the sterile room filled the hallways as you stalked toward it. Bucky was unusually quiet as he covered you from behind. You knew this was triggering, it had to be. He would always tell you he was beyond triggered episodes, having gotten a firm grasp on his PTSD. But you knew better. The subtle tremor in his brow told you so.

As you reached the eerie room, you stilled. Bucky came up behind you, resting a hand on your waist as you assessed the space. Metal shelves lined the walls full of jars, syringes, and test tubes. Sleek steel tables with rags soaked in blood, white grimy cabinets full of scalpels and needles, and an operating table at the center. The floors were coated in grot, each crack in the tile stained brown. Your mind couldn’t help but wonder if this condition was what Bucky was used to for all those decades.

Realizing the area was clear, you entered. Quickly, you spotted the hostage. Strapped to a chair in the corner with an IV jabbed into his arm. Bucky squeezed your arm as he headed over, slipping his knife back on his hip. 

You felt a pit growing in your stomach. You pulled your gun gently. This hostage didn’t look familiar, you thought Sam said he was a brunette, not blonde.

Bucky began to break the straps holding the man down. Slipping the IV gently from his arms, Bucky eased him up into a sitting position. He spoke to the man calmly, explaining to him who you were and that he was here to get him out. He seemed off, but Bucky just assumed it was the experimentation. He was wrong.

“Do you know who we are?” Bucky asked, helping the man up.

“I know who you are, Soldat,” the man said.

A chill ran through your legs, almost toppling you over. You reached for your gun, but the man was quicker. He was able to log four bullets into Bucky’s chest before you could get one in his skull. 

Shots rang out in the room, flooding your ears. As soon as you pulled the trigger, the man fell to the ground. Your bullet nestled into the side of his head. Your hands were shaky as the gun fell from your grasp, clattering across the floor and sending echoes through the rotting room. Of course it was a trap. The rubber of your boots squeaked as you sprinted your way over to your lover. He stumbled back against the filthy wall, his hands pressing firmly on the holes scattered across his chest.

As soon as you reached him, his legs seemed to give out. Everything in you tried to keep him up, your hands gripping the straps of his suit to keep him from surrendering to the floor. But he was too heavy. You followed him down, gathering him in your arms and holding him close. His breathing was labored and rough. Squeaks and coughs escaping from his punctured lungs haunted your ears, taunting you as you desperately tried to get him to stand.

“Baby, baby come on… you gotta get up, love,” you said, pulling him as you tried to get his attention.

His eyes were fixed on the mess in his chest. Blood bloomed across the fabric of his blue suit like a watercolor painting. His hands slipped from their place over the wounds and grasped yours. 

“Y/N…” he said. You froze at his voice. It was weak and unsteady. His grip on your hand was tight, too tight. He was always so gentle with you. As if you were glass under his hands and he was afraid you cracked. Now, he gripped you so hard you were afraid your bones would fracture.

“Bucky, you gotta get up. You’re gonna be okay,” you said as you tried to stay calm, but your voice failed you. You commed Sam, “Sam, Sam! Bucky’s down, I need help please!” 

You tried your best to stop the bleeding, tearing fabric from your pants to stuff the wound and slow the blood. But it didn’t seem to help. Bucky’s vibranium hand rose to your cheek, holding you steady. You mumbled to yourself, beginning to panic as blood spilled onto your hand; it stained the groves in your knuckles and cakes in your fingertips. Bucky’s coughing finally brought you out of your spiral. Blood began to trickle from his mouth.

“Doll…I can’t- I can’t breathe,” he said, his voice hoarse from the blood filling his throat.

“Bucky, hang on for me okay, please,” you said, your hands grasping his face and pulling yourself closer. You pressed a firm kiss to his forehead. When you pulled back, you could see it in his eyes.

“Y/N, I’m scared…” you felt bile rise in your throat at his words. The reality of the situation began to set in. Sam’s glitchy voice rang through your coms but you barely registered it.

“You’re okay, plum. It’s okay, I’m here. You’re gonna be okay,” you said. Your voice was frantic and distraught. The need to reassure him he would make it was overwhelming. But was it for him or you? Perhaps if you kept repeating it, doomsday would stay at bay.

His hands returned to yours, grabbing them and pulling you close as another cough racked his body. Blood speckled across your hands. You were white in the face, all the color drained.

“I…I love you, kid,” he said, his grip loosening. 

“No, baby, you’re gonna be okay. Sam’s on the way, it’s-”

“Y/N, I love you,” your hands gripped his tighter, wishing the firm hold he had minutes ago would return as his hands became limp in yours.

“… I love you, Buck,” you said softly, resting your forehead on his.

You pulled him close, kissing his lips one last time. You felt his breathing slow, his lips still. You didn’t pull back, you couldn’t. You knew what would await. A thick sob slipped through your chest. 

You tucked yourself further into his body, pulling him close and wrapping your arms around him. His head rested tucked into the crook of your neck, your hand tangled into his hair. You closed your eyes as you pressed your face into his hair, your free hand stroking his back and you rocked his now limp body. And you waited for Sam.

——

The smell of formaldehyde was the same, but no roses- Bucky preferred lilacs. You didn’t want the standard service, but SWORD insisted. No speeches, except for the pastor leading the service. You didn’t want any speeches, you knew Bucky would agree. 

You sat in the back, behind the small crowd of agents, friends, and the team you had come to consider family. Sam kept looking over his shoulder, keeping an arm behind him and resting on your knee. Perhaps he was trying to stop its shaking through the service or just to bring you comfort.

The service was simple, it was quiet. It was small. But it didn’t change anything. 

You hated funerals.

**taglist has been reset! let me know if you'd like to be added**

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

I know this sounds so boring but what Bruce with a polite, wise gentle girlfriend? This is so boring 🥹🙂‍↕️ I’m sorry🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

No omg I actually love how like domestic this request is, in a way?? Literally in love with the amount of creative freedom that you guys let me have with reqs.

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

BF! Bruce Wayne w/ a Wise/Caring Girlfriend

BF! Bruce Wayne who you're convinced really doesn't have a chill button. There are only a handful of times over the past few years you've been together where he's been home, unoccupied, and not pacing around the Manor like a maniac.

BF! Bruce Wayne who's always just so sore, achy, and tired. This comes into play especially when his age finally starts catching up to him, depite how hard he pushes his body. The best thing, however, is that if you get him to sit down for more than five minutes, you'll get to rub his back.

"Sit."

"Hm?" He was pacing the lavish master bedroom again, his mind working overtime to plan ahead for a recent situation with his 'nightly extracurricular.' In all honesty, he wasn't paying attention as you watched him from the edge of the bed.

"Come sit with me, Bruce." You repeat softly, moving to lay back against the pillows and holding your loving arms out for the tired man beside you.

"I can't-"

"You're going to burn out if you keep going at this rate, Bruce." You don't even give him the chance to protest before you're leaning forward, grabbing his wrist, and pulling him to lay on top of you with his head burried into your chest. There's a few moments of domestic bliss as he tries to find the will to pull away and fails. "Sometimes..." You start softly, the heels of your palms gently digging into the knotted muscles of his back and shoulders, "Sometimes I think you forget to breathe."

A deep breath and a soft sigh can be heard, although its slightly muffled by your chest. "I know." He whispers after a few moments. "Im sorry."

"Don't be." You respond without hesitation as you continue your gentle ministrations. "You shouldn't apologize to me. Ever, Bruce." You pause for a moment as thoughts gather. "You should, however, apologize to yourself for what you keep putting yourself through.

BF! Bruce Wayne who doesn't realize it, but needs your help so much more than he'll ever need anything else. It doesn't matter if you know that he's Batman or not, you somehow just... Know what needs to happen. Bruce, of course, tries not to let you in on exactly what problems he's facing, but he swears you have a sixth sense for this kind of stuff.

BF! Bruce Wayne who absolutely melts every time you make him dinner, even though he likely won't be home to eat it. He often forgwts to eat between work meetings and beating the everloving shit out of criminals on the Gotham City Streets.

The feeling of a large, caloused set of hands resting on your waist was enough to pull you out of your own thoughts as you put down the spatula in your hand. "Somebody's home early." Your voice is almost a teasing jest to Bruce, but he knows just how much you've missed him over the past few days.

"I heard that a certain lovely woman was in need of attention." His voice is slightly muffled by the skin of your shoulder and fabric of your shirt as he practically buries himself into you, pressing a soft line of kisses up your neck.

"You can't just keep cancelling work meetings for me, handsome." You turn to face him for a moment, pulling him down slightly to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. "You need to start doing things for your own sake."

BF! Bruce Wayne who refuses to go on a vacation for years. Until you listen in on some banter between him and a few of the 'Elite Gothamites' at a Wayne Gala and find out where he's always wanted to go. And proceed to drop subtle hints that you want to go there until he finally gives in, because how could Bruce ever resist that begging tone? After all, it made him feel less guilty that it was for you (it totally wasn't) and less selfish for taking time away from the city forgotten by God.

"You have impeccable taste in locations, beautiful." He mutters before pressing a kiss to your warm cheek, broad arm already around your shoulders as you basked in the setting sun of the private beach he rented out for a few days.

"Maybe you should listen to your girlfriend a little more, Mr. Wayne." You tease softly before gently grasping his chin in one hand and pulling him in for a soft, sweet kiss. His lips mixed with the faint taste of liquor are as close as you feel you'll ever get to heaven.

BF! Bruce Wayne who, if you know about his identity as the Caped Crusader, goes to you for help as little as possible. You undertsand that he's doing it for your own protection, but you can't help but feel a little upset over him.hiding even more from you.

"No, there will be too many thugs waiting at that entrance." He mutters softly, eyes trained on the flashing and blinking lights displayed on the Batcomputer forming a map of a warehouse inhabited by the Joker.

"What if you went in through those vents?" You ask softly, moving the hand not on the back of his rolling chair to point out a hidden ventilation system. "Sure, I get that it's a tight fit, but you could probably take of the utility belt for a few minutes, right?"

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

Masterlist

[leafington]

𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙞𝙣'𝙩 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣' 𝙞𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙘𝙪𝙥, 𝙨𝙤 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚, 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮, 𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙞𝙩 𝙪𝙥! - kento n.

content warning !! - drinking, intoxication, ceo!nanami, subby!nanami-ish, hostess!reader, blackfem!reader, sex implied but no smut, very subtle angst

a/n - im a little rusty yall stay with me + ib that one picture of the girl pouring the drink into the guys mouth, yk the one 🌚🌚

Beautiful wasn't the right word to describe his favorite woman, she was ethereal. Her beauty incapable of being described in such a way that covers the entirety of it all, it was damn near impossible to pull a word out of his broad vocabulary to illustrate her. To be watched under her eyes felt like that of being stalked, like every small movement of his was documented in her head.

Never in a million years would Nanami have caught himself in an entertainment bar of all places, part of him feeling ashamed he even wound up in such an environment all because of some woman. He's gotten one taste of her and all of a sudden it's a basic need of survival for him, stopping by her job every other day to see if she's there. This time, however, he was incapable of doing so due to a business trip overseas which left him exhausted and, above all, needy.

"You alright?" She caressed his cheek lightly, eyes scanning over Nanami for any sign of harm done. If anything, he should be checking on her, her head still feels light after being shown just how much he missed her over the course of two whole weeks. Nanami takes a few deep breaths, recollecting himself from what he considered to be the most euphoric moment ever experienced, then nodding in conformation.

He's a big man in every sense of the word; his build, his size, and his work status. She's used to seeing him so calm, stone-faced, rarely ever disheveled or beyond his own consciousness. "Age catching up to you, I see." She tries to lighten him up, moving her hand to play with his hair. "... very funny." Nanami quips back, leaving her satisfied knowing he's still a bit snarky. "I know right? I think I'm hilarious." She giggles, tugging his hair back just a bit so she was the one looking down on him.

It was nice being the one on top for a change, she didn't think it was possible to be the one to reduce the Nanami Kento to a groaning mess who cums like a virgin when he's desperate, and boy was it a sight to see.

She didn't really know why he came back to her all the time, Nanami swore up and down that he hated this place and everything involving it, but every day he's available after work he's here, requesting for her, and enjoying a nice glass of scotch while watching her work. Not that she minded it, it was a nice change of pace having someone call for her company and pay her thousands just to be by their side.

"You'd do better outside of a place like this, y'know?" He gruffs out, watching her slip her bikini thong right back on and mentally grovels. "How many times are you gonna remind me?" Y/n makes quick work in straightening herself out because who knows what her co-workers will think about her disheveled appearance. "Until you finally quit." Nanami glares, although not intentional, he genuinely believes she'd be better off somewhere safer, a less taunting job than buttering up a few men and getting tipsy.

"Well get used to it." She prompts, carrying herself to to mini-bar and scanning for anything he might like. His usual isn't there, so she just assumes that if he can down some glasses of scotch whisky, he can handle some sips of bourbon. Y/n pops up with the bottle and finds his cup to fill it up, Nanami watches her after regaining himself and buckling his belt. "Was that your plan? Letting me fuck you senseless then trying to take me out?" It's not often Nanami cursed around her, he's proven how strict and uptight he is about how he carries himself. "Just doing my job. You don't have to drink it." She sasses him back with a roll of her eyes, and he doesn't deny her so she settles herself in his lap and takes a few sips on her own.

Y/n recoils back, holding the drink away from her and making a face. "That's so not good." She gags, tensing up even further when Nanami's hands glide up her body. "Poor girl can't handle a little strength in her alcohol. What a terrible job you're doing." He taunts and further more pouts at her, patting her side as if she were a child. "Oh really?" She grits and adjusts herself. "Why don't you show me just how I'm supposed to do that?"

She raises herself high enough to be above him, tapping the bottom of his chin. "Open wide." He follows her command with ease, letting her tip his head back to pour the liquid in his mouth, her own slightly opening as if to pursue him further. "Up, up, up... thereee we go. Atta boyyy." She coos, a bit of the chocolate-noted honey dripping down, grinning when he swallows it whole.

Her free hand comes up to wipe the stray droplets off before it stains his clothes, she smiles at him when his drunken eyes land on her. "You got what you wanted," His voice comes out raspy from his intake, reaching for the bottle and trickling some more in the cup, taking it in his own hand and holding her up firmly with just one hand, the cold silver band of his watch pressed up against the flesh of her ass. "Now let's try that again, doll."

©2024 leafington dont steal please!! :)

[mytearsbuckochet]

What's your most hated Bummy scene?? I'll tell you mine. It has to be the kiss in the hospital lobby and buck getting outed because of his soot covered mouth. Never hated a 911 episode more than that. I love Buck. They just made a mockery out of him by that scene.

Where do I even start.. Couldn't agree more about the soot scene, although I'm more angry at the writers about that one than I am at Tommy, given how important it was to Buck that he came out to Eddie and Maddie on his own terms and how much weight he gave those interactions I feel like even though that one was supposed to be a cute little "hehe look this is very Buck coded", it fell short in that I would've liked everyone else at the 118 to find out in a more heartfelt way ya know??

In terms of my least favourite(s), the whole arc with billy boils was a very interesting play by the writers in that it highlighted the differences between Eddie and Tommy in a meaningful way. On one hand, Eddie, who has presumably been with Buck in the hospital the whole time he was being treated for his boils, is used to Buck's hyperfixations and Wiki deep dives, and finds them wholesome and cute. I reblogged a post a little bit ago where Buck told Maddie about how her and Chim always finish each others sentences and that theyre basically already dating, and then contrasted with how Eddie was finishing Buck's sentences in that scene. Buddie fanatic aside (I will admit im obsessed with these two idiots), THIS is the kind of domesticity I've always wanted for Buck's partners, where they acknowledge and love those little moments that he has.

Now lets go ahead and look at Tommy's side of this whole thing: Tommy's reaction to seeing the boils + how he treated and viewed Buck's obsession as exactly that, an obsession + the graveyard scene??? You can break it down into "oh well Buddie have known eachother since s2, Bummy have been together 6 months", but from my perspective the fact that Buck didn't even realise Tommy didn't like women until their 6 month anniversary (???) just goes to show that they don't really know that much about one another. Tommy was completely right in the breakup scene; he was definitely not Buck's last, and the poor guy is definitely in need of some self exploration (#letbuckfuck) before I'd be happy to see Buddie honestly (and thats not even considering the work that needs to be done on Eddie, my guy is going through it rn with Chris). Anyway; I just read this amazing fic by playinginthundestorms (on ao3) and I think the way they described Tommy (slightly Tommy bashing), was overall how I imagine he sees Buck. It never really felt like Tommy was fond of these little things Buck does in the way that Eddie (and the rest of the 118) are, more seeing him as childish or juvenile as the fic described. And it makes sense, tommy is older than Buck. A whole other can of worms and probably the icing on the cake for me was the Abby debacle, the misogyny really showed??? like man you have not changed since Hen my lord. Calling Abby out for running off with some "himbo half her age" was wild considering thats what he is currently doing with Buck? Especially with all the shit she had to go through with her mum at the time? Like what on earth is your excuse Temu? Anyway, to cut a long rant short, I actually have given you like 50 reasons, but i definitely think that Tommy was a well placed plot device and it was obvious from the start. Also, ABC could've chosen ANYONE to be Buck's first experience with a man and they were like yep lets use the racist homophobe from Chim and Hen begins cos why not?! I probably would've had a far less negative opinion of him if he was a fresh character, and I think that's on purpose, I think it would be really interesting if they go down the road of hen and chim sharing their experiences with Tommy now that they've broken up, and that they didn't say anything cos they just wanted Buck to be happy. Definitely after that heartfelt scene with Hen especially, that I didn't get cos of that bloody soot scene.

[callistocalavarni]

shifting to the 60s

hii I havent posted in a while, I've been trying re group from multiple shifts while getting my life back in order but I think I'm back.. Anyway I have a bunch of stories from so many places I'd like to share and im currently working on how I want to post them. But I don't see a lot of storytimes so I think it would be fun to share some. So i'm gonna rant about some shorter ones here.

shifting with sleep paralysis

I wanted to talk about this shift because it stuck out to me and I can't stop thinking about it.. I had shifted about 2 times in the span of 30 seconds. For a whole week back in October I was waking up at 3-5 am in the morning without being able to go back to sleep. So as you can guess I woke up at around 4 am and was restless. At around 6 am I got tired again so I started my method and I know people say that symptoms don't exist but in the time that I have shifted all I can say is that I disagree.. Anyway, one moment I was saying affimations and then the next I woke up all tingly and in a weird sleep state I've never been in before. I didn't even say to myself I wanted to shift I just did. It was like my mind was on autopilot. Didn't say affimations, didn't go through my script in my head, didn't even try to use the 5 senses. I just started seeing myself in 1st person and what I would be doing in my dr without any forethought and shifted. The first shift, I was on a track running with a couple of men and we all were wearing 60s running wear. I had an orange and red tank top with matching orange shorts. It had felt like there was an orange filter in this reality.. if that makes sense. I was on the track about to run and I just recall looking around laughing.

When I shifted to this moment its like I felt my consciousness leave my body; Which is the weird part because I've never really experinced this before. It felt like I was being pulled up by something and all I could hear was constant noise. I don't even know what noise I was hearing it was like someone was screaming right in my ear or veryyy loud ringing/static. The noise was SO loud. I was in the middle of sprinting when I shifted back because I thought I was the one making the noise, I thought I was screaming..Thankfully it was not me. But When I came back I was still In that state and I could look around me but my eyes were still closed. It's like I was seeing everything from a different perspective. There was a spider crawling on my wall right next to me when I shifted back so I freaked out and the noise got even louder ! The spider was leaving black spots all over my wall,, I could not figure out what was going on in the moment ( when I was writing this in my journal I figured out it was sleep paralysis ) It felt like I was tripping on a bunch of pain killers when I shifted back. I still couldn't move so I shifted again to the same reality but this time I was in the shower... the noise got even louder. The noise made it feel like a bad trip and I ended up shifting back here to try and stop it. It took my like an hour to get out of sleep paralysis. Unlike the method, this reality was very enyjoyable. It felt like a Nina Brodskyaya song, I lived alone and I was successful. I think I worked at a cigarette company, which is ironic because I hate smoking. But I don't know for sure as I didn't stay long enough to find out.

Lumari is a country I scripted, Forlina being one of its nations.

This reality was late 70's early 80's and one of my favorite drs. I stayed here for about a year. I was in Forlina living in an all girls home. Forlina gives free housing to students so I moved out of my parents house to start collage. About six girls are given a room to share together, don't worry they are pretty big. I loved our room. It had big sliding windows that gave a view of the tropical forest. We each had sunken in beds, some girls who were home sick shared beds for a couple of weeks. It took me a while to get use to the amount of noise in the morning. There was this one girl who would blast music on the radio while getting ready. I only had to worry about this sometimes because I woke up pretty early. Art was one of my classes and the professer would make the class times either 7 am or 9 pm which also took me some time to get use to. idk the guy was kind of weird. I rode my bike everywhere here. I miss being able to ride down a bike trail and see the ocean. I've been thinking about shifting back here for some time. I might post more about this reality in more detail later.

<3

[anonymousrunaway]

doing this on my main blog so mafublog won't get drowned out but Saki basically overworked herself to the point she got hospitalized again, afterall her body was weak which basically got everyone to worry, Shiho was angry at Saki for overworking herself but Honami defended Saki (as if Shiho was angry at Saki for no good reason) and told shiho that she didn't know any better, ichika tried stopping them and saki couldn't really do anything because she can't speak nor move much (this is why you DON'T overwork saki.. but to be fair Saki wanted to make it up for everyone by practicing hard) and well, let's just say Honami and Shiho ended up parting different ways because the two were "too different for each other" and that they "cant be together in a group" (obviously shiho's more blunt and honami's more polite when wording this particular sentence)... Ichika and Shiho visits saki everyday at the hospital while Honami visits Saki when Ichika or Shiho isn't there. They're basically facing a conflict of "you obviously don't care for her!" "Im sorry but was defending her necessary? I didn't even mean it in a sense where I'm angry Saki didn't work hard enough, I'm just mad she'd push herself this far." I hope that makes sense...? I don't have ideas currently and this is all I could think of that's atleast story accurate to Pjsk

THE PEOPLE HAVE DECIDED... THE WINNER IS ; SHINING STAR AU

Don't worry the other AUs will get another chance in the future after we finish the superhero AU (if it has an ending of course but it'd be fun if it didn't ehe) and Shining Star ! Here's a little summary for each AU (including winning AU) ; Fates Intertwined - An AU where SEKAI didn't exist and everything happened naturally... Sort of like a slowburn? esque Alternate universe, It's a bit fleshed out but I'm still working on everything. To keep it simple, this AU is basically where each character isn't going through so much trauma and instead knows how to deal with that trauma that happened in canon with the help of the people they know and cherish, let's take An or Mizuki for example... When An found out about Nagi's death she still did feel sad (and guilty for not being able to say goodbye) and "traumatized" but VBS, instead of checking up on her once actually comforts her, like a lot (including Akito) and encouraged her to keep fighting for what she wants to achieve and keep on reaching for that shared dream. Basically reassuring her (she also has less attachment and abandonment issues... Kanamod and Modshishi knows like almost everything about this AU), while Mizuki despite having to go through Mizu5 again faces Ena this time, not running away or isolating, actually facing Ena. And Ena in return wanted Mizuki to tell her the secret herself because she didn't want to believe in people she doesn't know well, especially if the people were transphobic. uh yeah basically Project Sekai AU ; Everyone's untraumatized (THIS IS SO LONG I'M SO SORRY) Daydreams ; Actually one of my least doomed AUs, it's basically where Minori, An, Mizuki, Mafuyu, Saki, Ichika and Emu daydreams a lot... indulging in a world full of lies, living a life full of lies thinking everything is still the same. Because you see in this AU every unit disbanded because of a big issue they had. For More More Jump! They had a disagreement, Shizuku and Haruka were mostly the ones arguing but Airi also joined in to defend Shizuku... Minori witnessed all of this and basically after hearing Haruka say "I WISH I NEVER WENT ON THE ROOFTOP AND MET YOU ALL!" Minori's head basically clicked, memories flashed before her and she basically hyperventilated and ran away. Haruka realized what she'd done but it was too late, so Airi and Shizuku left. Shizuku isolated herself, Airi tries to keep in touch and well let's just say Minori's depressed and keeps daydreaming which really makes her mentally unhealthy. Haruka knows of Minori's state but she's too scared to do or say anything, she thinks it's all her fault and well you can figure out the rest here haha I just used MMJ as an example since that's the one I first worked on. part 2 will be posted hold on

[weaponizedducks]

help why doing i constantly think i'm lying to myself about my thoughts and emotions. i genuinely cannot tell whether i have bad mental health or whether i am making it up bc i don't know

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

while teen while goblin while aroace while injured while doing your best

[lost-in-fandoms]

"Tell me again."

Max hums, moving his hand in slow circles along Daniel's back, feeling his chest move against his side, his face hidden in the folds of Max's t-shirt.

He bows his head, pressing a kiss against Daniel's hair, shifting against the hotel's pillows until he's comfortable again.

"It's going to be sunny," he says, voice low, letting Daniel's curls tickle his lips and nose. "It's going to be sunset, orange, the trees all golden in the way you like."

Daniel's back shifts under his hand, his fingers twisting in Max's shirt.

"We'll be sitting in chairs, because you have old man knees, and would complain about sitting on the floor."

He twists away from the halfhearted poke in his side, then settles back.

"They will be those garden ones, the ones with the straw?"

"Wicker," Daniel corrects him softly, voice scratchy.

"Yes, wicker." He tugs Daniel even closer, not knowing how it is even possible. "With pillows, so you can curl in them like a little cat."

He smooths his hand down Daniel's back, like he does with Sassy, when she stretches out beside him on the bed, similar to how Daniel is now. Does it again when he feels Daniel's shoulders uncurl slightly.

"We will be drinking your weird beers, the expensive ones that taste worse than all the others."

"Craft beer isn't weird," Daniel argues, just like Max was expecting him to. He sounds like there's something stuck in the back of his throat, and Max kisses his hair again.

"It is weird, Daniel. Beer does not need to be that expensive."

He gives him space to reply once more, but Daniel doesn't.

"We will drink your weird beer, and we will talk about that time we ate pasta in your hotel room."

It wasn't just one time, but Max knows he doesn't need to specify. They're both thinking about the same one, illegal spaghetti ordered from room service, hidden from their trainers, sauce on the corner of Max's mouth, cleaned by Daniel's thumb first, Daniel's mouth later. And even if they aren't thinking about the same, it doesn't matter. Every plate of pasta shared, in every hotel room, would matter just as much, stepping stones in their story, just as important as that first kiss.

"And it will be rainy," Max continues, voice even lower. His t-shirt is damp, stretched by Daniel's tense fingers. Daniel's back is shuddering, even when he holds him closer and closer and closer.

"It will rain, and you will have a blanket, because you always get cold, even more when it is humid."

The thing that was in Daniel's throat is in his too now.

"We will talk about how stupid everyone was. We will say it was all unfair. But we will not be angry anymore, because it will not matter anymore."

Daniel's hair smell like Max's shampoo, even if he usually doesn't use it, because he hates how dry it makes it feel. Max can taste salt on the back of his throat as he shifts his head slightly, trying to at least keep his ears dry, now that his cheeks are a lost cause.

Daniel's breathing is a stuttered rhythm against his ribs.

"We will cook eggs," Max pushes on, pressing every word against Daniel's skin, hoping every one feels like the i love you that it is. "Because we will have chickens on your farm, like a real farm, so we will be good at cooking eggs. And you will drink your wine, and sing your songs."

His voice breaks, sudden betrayal, just as Daniel trembles in a sob, but Max pushes through. They've both always known how to push through.

"And I will ask are you happy and you will say yes," he says, making it sound like a promise, because it is a promise. "And we will not regret any of it."

He knows they won't. Not the angry moments, not the painful moments, not the annoying little moments they will never even remember. They will take all of them and throw them into the jar of their lives, little pebbles, and colorful marbles, and shards of glass smoothed out with time and love and distance, all mixed together.

"We will sit on your chairs, and they will have nothing, and we will have us."

He holds Daniel closecloseclose, because he's never learned how to let go of the things he cares about, has always clung to things with his teeth and desire bared, and he has no intention of starting now. He has no intention of starting ever.

Even if this is not the way he wanted things to happen, he doesn't believe in letting go, especially when it comes to Daniel.

He swallows, clears his throat to try and dislodge the tight knot of feelings there, raises a hand to swipe his thumb along Daniel's wet jaw.

"We will have chickens, and a garage full of dirt bikes, and I will ask Grace to teach me how to make the pasta sauce you spilled all over the carpet when you were five."

Daniel nods against his chest, fingers relaxing. His breathing is still uneven, Max's t-shirt is still damp, but he can feel him going lax against him, relaxing bit by bit.

"We will," Daniel murmurs, voice shaky enough it sounds closer to a question.

"We will," Max tells him, firm. Would be happy to tell him again and again, until Daniel's voice doesn't shake on it anymore. "We will eat so much food, and we will become fat, and we will be happy. We will."

Daniel nods again, then shifts, wiggling in Max's hold until he can properly climb on top of him, pointy elbows planted on the bed, above Max's shoulders, trembling fingers tracing the wet lines on his cheeks, red-rimmed eyes soft.

When Daniel kisses him, they both taste like salt, exhaustion and the future.

[stealingpotatoes]

hands you all this cal to announce i’ve FINALLY finished fallen order (by which i mean i finally picked it up again after those couple hours i played a few months ago and then finished the whole game in 2 days lol)

[uncanny-tranny]

If somebody in your life offers to knit or crochet or, really, create anything for you, please be an active participant in the creation of the piece they are making. I adore making and gifting things, but nothing bums me out quicker than a person who passively just goes "okay," to my ideas about what I'm making them - it can send the message that they won't like it, or that they don't care, even if they're happy about my offering. The back-and-forth feedback is a great way to make sure that you are being gifted something that was truly worth the time, effort, expertise, and money that will inevitably go into the gift!

I know it's really hard to be an active participant, believe me, I'm an anxious ball of horror, but it will only do good for both parties to interact in this situation. It is a big deal to be offered a hand-crafted gift, but it's also something we want you to love and use, and that can only happen if you tell us what would make you fall in love with what we create.

[wizardsix]

bioware either writes a trans man and allows the player to invade his privacy out of nowhere or writes a buff nonbinary character and makes it their whole personality. just stop. I'm fed up with it and I'd rather have a game w no trans rep than butchered trans rep and forced allyship.

there's absolutely no need to use our modern terms in a fantasy setting. its very weird and jarring and shows how little bioware cares. it's not difficult to make up their own words or just talk about it in a more natural way. you'd think for a fantasy world that has made up languages they could easily make up a word to describe genders and sexualities, so what's the issue? why don't we get the same care everything else (supposedly) does? like how come no one uses the words gay or lesbian or even bisexual but it's easily implied through dorian saying "I prefer the company of men" and sera's "we have too much in common bc we both like women"???? how come they can say that in a way that doesn't break immersion but taash has to go crazy about gender and write "trans/non-binary/genderfluid/agender all so so super valid I am affirmed" on the walls??

I get what they were trying to do with taash's story but it's not executed well at all especially with that fucking misgender scene. bioware I can assure you most people won't dissolve when they're misgendered. saying sorry or just correcting yourself and moving on is ok. its preferable actually. we don't need a character to stop the conversation to give a speech about how misgendering is bad and apologizing is also bad and act all white knight for us. it's embarrassing. like if I didn't know any better id say they were making fun of us. that's how fucking bad this writing is.

I'm sorry to the people who just accept the bare minimum, but it IS cringe and annoying to have our existence watered down to "trans" and "valid". why can't we just fucking exist without being turned into freakshows to gawk at. trans people deserve better representation than this caricature. we deserve basic fucking respect. our existence is much more complicated than cis people could ever understand and I'm sick of people pretending to care.

[ardentpoop]

"Don't say that to me. Not you, of all people." -"I don't want to. But it's the truth." (5.18 "Point of No Return")