#directly. if i was someone who could access that. then i wouldn't have this problem

[bredforloyalty]

i had a good day i like having things to do but unfortunately i have just remembered i am insane</3

[howlsofbloodhounds]

I know you're more of a Killer person but I wanted to share some thoughts on Horror since I've been going back abit for his comic and lore I've never played the game though.

I feel like Horror has one main fanon interpretation and that he's a big guy who's soft for his other teammates, makes excellent food always eating something or constantly thinking of just food who gardens and cooks constantly. Also, he wields a giant axe but can't use magic anymore and really only cares for his Papyrus. Oh and he's a cannibal who eats humans disregarding the fact that humans ans monsters are different species. Oh also problems saying sentences or a single word so barely talks and he has problems with his memory where he doesn't properly make new memories.

Horror is so much more then that first of all that guy isn't soft, I'm unsure if he can even cook, doesn't seem like someone who would garden but more likely hunt or just go to a store. He's rude, mean, and a sadist. He won't directly hurt you when Papyrus is close by and as long as he is entertained doesn't have much of an urge to hurt you either. He's super paranoid and distrusting believing anyone can simply betray him even those closest. He's not even big its mentioned that he is still small and is only seen tall by the human child. He's probably the most judgemental of the group and manges to have the worst trust issues out of all of them. You already know he hasn't eaten in what 7 years, he's willing to give up food to others if he thinks they need it more even if it would be harder on him and Papyrus he has a huge sense of community with Snowdin in which people respect him but are also afraid of him. He seems to isolate himself from the rest of them not exactly physically but its obvious he keeps his distance emotionally and most of the physically away from them despite being the glue that holds them together. He was only shown once with an axe and it wasn't comically huge it says he prefers a heavy thigh bone and it's been shown he still has access to his magic and can use it even during present time. He wouldn't even physically touch Aliza he made a whole paragraph to stop him from eating anything alive. Also he yaps a lot he's almost constantly talking throughout the comic don't know about the game but I've seen a bit and it doesn't seem like his chattiness is lessened. Also despite what many think he has retrograde amnesia not antegrade amnesia. Meaning his memories of before the injury are blured or gone its mentioned that many of the things in Frisk run is forgotten he doesn't have any problems making new memories or any speech impediment.

Sorry for the rant but you're probably my favorite person to just share my thoughts with

~Musical Anon

You don’t have to apologize for ranting in my inbox. I may be the Killer and Color guy, but I enjoy when people rant to me about other characters and aus too. It’s nice to hear from everyone.

The idea that the yapper in the Murder Time Trio all along was actually Horror instead of Killer is so silly though.

And given that he is only seen as tall from the human child’s POV, and Killer was drawn as smaller than his Chara even though he doesn’t have a confirmed canon height, does this potentially mean that Killer could be smaller than Horror if only by a few inches?

[howtofightwrite]

First of all, I was very happy to see you share your opinions on assassin tropes and fight scenes. You brought up a lot of good points that I hadn't even considered in my early drafts! That being said, I'm trying to craft a game where the player starts out as a rookie. This means that I'll need a plausible way for someone to join a criminal organization without having grown up in that kind of scene. My original draft had the player join under the threat of exposure to the police, but I'm not sure if that's the best way to go. If you don't mind, then what are your thoughts? What other ways could get someone involved?

So, I'm pretty sure googling, “how to join a criminal organization,” will put you on some kind of list. Or, at least do some really goofy things to your search algorithms. So, with that in mind, this is going to be a little spotty, and there are different kinds of criminal organizations, which utilize different recruitment techniques.

Sometimes, the neighborhood background is mandatory. If your character didn't grow up around the organization, they're not trusted, and would not be able to join at all. This can apply to both gangs and organized crime. In other cases, not having that background would only be a serious impediment or create a glass ceiling.

Another common recruitment point is in prison. If an individual is so inclined, prison can function as an institute of higher education in criminality. It gives the convict access to criminals in an environment where their own status as a criminal is unlikely to be questioned. It gives them the opportunity to network with other criminals, and that can lead to options for (illegal) work once they've finished serving their sentence. I haven't followed up on it in a few years, but there's a YouTube channel by Larry Lawton, who used to be a professional armed robber, who discusses a lot of this in more detail, so his videos may be worth checking out for more context on how prison serves as higher education for aspiring criminals.

In some cases, criminal organizations might directly recruit individuals. The problem here is, most of the time it's children. So it becomes part of that, “growing up in the neighborhood,” background you're trying to avoid. Sometimes this is to use the kids as intentional cutouts, lookouts, or decoys, though not always, and how that shakes out depends on who recruited them.

In very rare cases, a criminal organization might seek to directly recruit an adult. Before you get excited about this, the only cases of this I'm aware of are former military, expats who have been approached by cartels, and this was certainly more of, “an offer you can't refuse,” style of recruitment. Now, to be clear, a criminal organization coercing someone into doing their bidding isn't particularly strange, but it's not usually a form of recruitment.

Another recruitment vector that's been a problem in recent years has been in the US military itself. This was an inevitable outgrowth of the policy of sending convicts to serve in the armed forces. Instead of reforming, they simply bring their criminal experience with them, and start looking around at prospective talent. It's enough of a problem that the military (usually) won't accept someone who's signing up in exchange for a deferred sentence, but some individuals do get through. While I haven't heard anything about it in the last few years, it did lead to a fairly significant gang problem that the armed forces were dealing with.

So, the options aren't extremely extensive. Doing a stint is probably the easiest route in for a character who already tried to get into a life of crime, but doesn't have the connections to make a go of it. If your character just randomly showed up at a criminal hangout, it wouldn't get them any access to the local criminal underworld.

-Starke

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[homosociallyyours]

This is a post for one of my best friends who's been going through a lot for the past few years. I'll go into more details below, but here's the heart of the matter: My friend has a serious auto-immune condition resulting from the long term after effects of cancer treatments (worsened now by the addition of long COVID to her long list of diagnoses). Over the past few years, she's gotten sicker and sicker and has been forced to change her diet from a vegetarian anti-cancer diet (she's a breast cancer survivor, and fought HARD for her health) to one that's become more and more limited as her body becomes allergic to every food one by one. She's now reached a point where one of the last 2 foods that she was able to eat safely, chicken, is causing an allergic reaction; she has to eat it anyway to survive, so is now very sick all the time.

What can you do?

One of the last hopes that she has to turn things around is something called a fecal microbiome transplant, which has worked miracles for other people with similar issues, but cannot currently be accessed through medical channels in the US for any but one (unrelated) condition. It's really easy to do as a DIY treatment though, it's just hard to find a donor: so we are putting it out there to see if one of you might be able and willing to be that person, or know someone who could do it.

Here is what she has to say about the ask:

Finding the right person to do this is difficult, but actually doing the helping is extremely easy and quick if someone was that person! If you live in the continental US and are fortunate enough to have both physical and mental good health (or know someone or have a child who fit the criteria) and are willing, you might be able to change my life! Please consider clicking through to read more and maybe even come aboard...  (For clarity: this isn't a medical procedure or anything, it is literally just donating poop, there are a few specifics but it is very much from the comfort of your home on your own time.)

You can click here to fill out a google form to see if you might be able to be a donor. The questionaire is detailed: fecal transplant is a bizarre and magical thing in which the patient sometimes can even end up acquiring personal preferences from the donor- the gut microbiome (sometimes called the second brain) is incredible! But this means that any illness, chronic issues, or risk factors you carry may also be transferred to the recipient so while it may feel invasive, getting detailed info in very necessary; I am just too sick already to take on any more problems.

A note- yes, it is possible to buy screened and processed treatments even in the US: unfortunately the cost (~$2k per round of treatment) is way outside my reach, particularly given that it isn't really any better than just getting poop directly from a good candidate (proven via studies), and that often it takes trying a couple donors/ rounds to find a match that gets results. If anyone wants to just buy me that stuff, I sure wouldn't say no to that, but given the severity of my situation (medical and financial; I cannot work due to disability) it is likely I will need to do medical fundraising at some point and I am trying to save that for an even worse point. Also if you have that kind of money to help out honestly it would be better spent on specialists or my astronomical food costs. I will cover all costs associated with this process if I find someone though, of course!

Thank you for reading/boosting/etc, please consider sending the link to possible healthy friends or family who might be a fit, or consider whether you have a child fitting the bill you might be willing to enlist- young microbiomes are the best ones, as children's systems have had less time to be ravaged by the effects of the modern world or the simple deterioration of age.

[bored-storyteller]

VERY LONG POST

It was supposed to be a little rant about Twisted Wonderland, it became a treatise (no, but almost):

So, I love the Diasomnia book. It's soooo good (also considering the type of game).

Lilia is enchanting me, Meleanor (or Malenoa) has enchanted me. She couldn't be more beautiful than this. We've seen her so little and yet in my opinion she is one of the most successful characters in Twisted Wonderland. She is the summary of what Twisted Wonderland should be, the dark side that reconciles with unconditional love. And with her being mother she introduces the concept which is the basis of Lilia and Silver (and also Malleus I presume), that is the concept of "true love". It's a blow to the heart, it's the key to development that can completely change things.

Ah, but then you know how to do things well.

And here comes my complaint: I start directly from the game first. I understand that Diasomnia is the main dorm and that Malleus (where are you Malleus?) is our front man. All right. But if they can do something like that now, then they could do at least half of this for the other characters too. Did they do it? Obviously not, or at least not for the most part. No, because if the other media have to come and explain to us the underlying reasons for the other Overblots then something is wrong. If to understand what the guys who are alongside us are doing and what they think I have to read the novel then yes, I get a little angry. Because they knows how to do things for heaven's sake.

Mind you, I'm not saying that Diasomnia can't have more screentime (also because they're giving us information on world building and who says anything), I'm simply talking about good writing and commitment to the characters that have been created. Also because there are already problems of opinion, if the writing is lascivious and incomprehensible, well, see you!

And here's the second point. I don't usually make posts like this, but this comes following a post I saw (I won't say how or where), where there was a clear devaluation of the other chapters and character issues in favor of Diasomnia. So, as much as can be forgivable addressing imaginary characters in a certain way (yes, they are all invented, they have neither merits nor demerits for being what they are, only the tragedy of being written badly in some cases), the treating some topics such as those of Riddle, or Azul or Jamil lightly or insensitively is questionable to say the least. And it can be offensive.

Just as I'm tired of hearing that Leona's problem is "jealousy". No, and even if the writing of the Savanaclaw arc (let alone the translation) doesn't help, no. He's not just jealous, just as Vil isn't just jealous. But I'm not here to do psychological analysis of characters that probably some wouldn't even understand.

You may not understand, yes, we have the right to not understand (especially, I repeat, given the weaknesses that are in the game). Fine, but it's our limit and we keep our head down and we keep quiet, or ask for things to be explained to us. There is no need to devalue, insult or mock the characters, because those characters are loved by someone, and there is a reason they are chosen. Revelation: no, if you like something you don't do it any good by devaluing the rest, but rather you throw that thing in the mud too. I'm not just talking about Twisted Wonderland, I'm also talking about your favorite author, your book or your anime character.

Guys, it's a matter of respect, you are not superior to anyone, and you are few. Come on, we are together, everyone waves their flag but high fives with those who are next to you.

This post has become very long, so I'm closing it, if anyone has something to dispute please, with all due respect.

Have a good day!

P.s. Sorry if I put this post here, I would like to put it on my personal blog but I haven't yet found the will to solve the access problems. I hope you forgive me.

[konigsberg]

I've had a few people offer to beta/edit MO, or ask questions about it, so I guess this is my awkward beta/editor search post? Or more, a clarification post for anyone who might be interested. Just an overview of what it might mean or look like to beta/edit for MO specifically.

I think in fandom spaces "beta reader" and "editor" sort of end up blurring in a lot of cases. In more official publishing, the editor comes in first to do their thing, correcting grammar, spelling, etc. Once a work is pretty much done, as in finished and edited, you get in beta readers. They're meant to sort of give feedback as a potential audience member, basically, to let the author know how it reads as a finished product. I think the roles can sometimes have overlap even in official publishing, at least in the sense both are providing feedback, spotting errors that have been missed, maybe identifying things that read strangely as far as structure, plot, and the rest go.

In fandom, things are obviously structured a lot differently and they're a lot more flexible, given everything is unofficial and casual. I think it can really just depend on the writer and the beta as for what they want/need to do.

And as for MO, I have the story's plot of course, but I'm obviously writing as I go, so that inherently makes for a different sort of experience for anyone coming in to edit or provide general feedback.

The way I've done it in the past is to give someone access to the WIP document(s) through Google Docs so they could leave comments on anything that stood out to them, talked about the general plan for the fic in DMs somewhere, that sort of thing. I wouldn't ask anyone to directly change what is in the document just in case, it would just be like highlighting maybe a misspelled word or a sentence that you think I should break up, and leaving a comment about that there.

I'm a few chapters ahead of what's posted on ao3. I usually wait to really edit maybe two weeks before the chapter is going to be posted, so I have fresh eyes to look at it with and just leave the chapter after that to be edited/potentially reworked in that same every two week timeline. My biggest concerns are usually that I've forgotten some detail in the midst of 600k words, I keep repeating the same damn word every other paragraph that I don't mean to, or maybe weird grammar problems. In this way, I think my concerns are maybe more "beta reader" problems, ie. did I forget a plot point? But I definitely suck at grammar, don't get me wrong.

Given it's just a fic, there's not a lot of pressure to catch every single little thing, but it is very long and dense, obviously, so asking anyone to read over it is a lot even if there's not any pressure to do things perfectly. And I feel bad because I can't really provide much compensation for that work. In the past, friends were happy just to do it basically in exchange for the ability to read chapters ahead of everyone else, but it feels a little weird to have strangers do work with that sort of compensation when I do make a little money on p8reon. That might be something to work out on an individual basis, though, I guess.

There's also the fact that most people who might be willing to edit and/or beta are obviously people interested in reading the work, and I would feel bad if the task might make the actual reading much less fun for them. Like some might find it interesting to see the plot outline or something, but then for others that would just spoil the fun. Or if it came to feel like "work" that might take the joy out of it. I think it's possible to beta/edit like a chapter ahead of what's posted without needing to know what's going to happen at the very end, for sure, but I guess what I'm really getting at is I woulnd't want to make anyone feel like they have to be spoiled on what's happening next, bound to the task of working on something that I can't give a good timeline on re: how many chapters are left or how long I'll take writing it, or anything like that.

Also, of course, there are potentially upsetting topics covered in the story. I think anyone who has gotten through the whole of the fic so far is probably okay to get through the rest, but there are going to be more parts of the story involving all of the same topics, depictions, etc. already seen in the rest of the fic and potentially more upsetting things. I'm happy to provide any sort of warnings or clarification on chapters in general, even outside of the context of someone beta/editing the work, so I don't think this should be a big issue, but it's just something to keep in mind.

So I guess, if that doesn't scare you off, and as long as it's understood there's seriously no pressure on my part that you commit to this for a long time or do an extreme amount of work or anything (beyond the demands of... sometimes reading 15k word chapters lol... just reading a chapter over once and leaving any comments on spelling and grammar errors, maybe things that don't seem like they make sense narratively, or make it seem like I've forgotten something haha, that's more than enough)... if you would like to beta/edit MO, let me know?

Feel free to ask questions, too, because god knows I've forgotten at least a few things. I might end up adding to this because I'll suddenly remember something in an hour, honestly.

If you want to just reply to this post, that's fine. My inbox should be open here, as well as the whole tumblr messaging system. I often miss when people DM me on twitter because I just never get notifs for it, and honestly I think my notifs in general sometimes don't work for replies there, but I'll try to keep an eye on that, too. I'm probably going to be a little busy this week, but I will strive to get back to everyone reasonably quickly.

I'm not really sure if there will be a lot of responses to this, but... just in case: If you do reach out and I end up going with someone else, it's definitely not personal!

I appreciate everyone who has mentioned being willing to help out. I've just been a little overwhelmed because I obviously don't know what the hell I'm doing lol and I thought this might be the easiest way to quickly provide some more info to anyone interested.

Thanks for reading!

[erigold13261]

Wait do you think the villains are in the NSpideRverse AU? (EG: Olivia Octavias, Jonathan Ohnn, Renaissance Vulture)

Maybe they are also in Nueva York as High Tier 1-DET folks, but with far less freedom than say, Hobie.

(Maybe Jonathan escaped, and caused a huge problem)

Oh yeah probably.

I definitely see Olivia Octavias as a counselor. Probably one that has her own motives to get access to all kinds of powers to research. She isn't as worried about helping the residents as she is interested in just researching their unique powers.

Jonathan Ohnn (who is the Spot since I didn't know his name before lol) is probably an ex-counselor who was a late bloomer with his powers and ended up being a resident after a while of working there.

At first I wasn't gonna agree with your ranking, but giving it some thought, it honestly would be a good ranking for him. His powers, though not directly dangerous as they are pretty much just temporary teleporting spots, can become extremely dangerous if used in the wrong way (like teleporting people into the sky and letting them fall to death or teleporting a heavy object right onto someone).

Jonathan also doesn't have a lot of control on his powers because of getting them so late in life and so accidents can (and probably have) happened that got him kicked from being a counselor and detained. Probably no easy way to contain him though, so he does end up escaping. Man hunt ensues for him.

I don't know about the Renaissance Vulture. Probably not in Nueva York as he probably has a lot of control of his powers. I also only know of him in the movie, nothing of his potential comics, so I don't know how much of a villain he really is. In the movie it seems like he was just scared and freaking out at being teleported to a new dimension which cause collateral damage and then was defending himself from Gwen (I could be wrong though).

So he might just be an elemental made of wood with the power of flight and body manipulation that works as an art studio director or something. I can see him traveling around Europe and working in art galleries. Probably knows of Elivy from visiting France and definitely knows of Eve and might be a regular buyer of her art.

I don't know any other villains other than maybe Green Goblin or this movie's interpretation of Kingpin. I can see Kingpin being a capitalist who works with corrupt companies like Nueva York and Vandelay Technology for some reason and probably tried to get his hands into NSR but Tatiana was too proud for that or wouldn't have fallen victim to his ways (I don't know anything about Kingpin if you couldn't tell. I think I'm making him like how I imagine the Penguin from Batman, which I also barely know anything about lol).

[electrasev5nwrites]

Ninja Daily: Vapors 39

"As baffling as it is, you were admitted with critically low levels of oxygen in your blood. That caused the nose bleed, but it wouldn't have caused the broken blood vessel in your eyes. It could contribute to that of course, those with high blood pressure or are taking blood-thinning medications have an increased chance of bursting a vessel. Despite looking like something out of a nightmare, luckily the condition is not serious at all. It's just a sign of strain, usually from something like coughing or vomiting. Were you doing either of those things?"

When the girl shook her head, the Hokage rolled her eyes. "Of course not. Well, either way you were recuperating by the time you dragged your skinny self to the nonemergency room and startled that poor receptionist. It wouldn't have taken much longer for normal respiration to have restored your oxygen levels if you hadn't been panicking. What were you doing, by the way?"

"MumBleMumblE".

"What was that?" Tsunade cupped her hand around an ear, smiling rather wickedly now that she knew there was some dirt. "I didn't quite hear you."

"Sealing experiments, trying to figure out the Hiraishin," she mumbled slightly below the hearing range for humans. Tsunade must have been a dog or something, because her face twitched.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Aiko shook her head, meekly. It had been stupid to keep her project under wraps. It was just… it would have been so humiliating to have tried and failed. If she had told anyone and then been unable to make the high-level, personalized seal to perform it, she would have felt like they were judging her. Like she was just a stupid child who had aspirations above her abilities.

Now she seemed like a stupid child who didn't know when to share dangerous experiments with someone who could supervise the process.

"Uzumaki will be the death of me." Tsunade tossed the clipboard onto the end of the bed as if she didn't have enough energy to care anymore. "You will be released tomorrow morning. At that time, you will report directly to my office and demonstrate this skill for me. Have you told anyone that you were attempting to learn that?"

Aiko shook her head silently, mildly ashamed of that. But not enough that she would tell anyone if she'd had another chance. She had to swallow before speaking. "No. Jiraiya gave me notes from an old student, and his notations and process of re-inventing it were all included. I used parts of those notes as a reference this last month, and I really wanted to try my hand at it."

Something strange wavered in Tsunade's eyes. That made sense—the Hiraishin would be a sentimental topic for her. It had been invented by her grand-uncle, and the last user had been the student who broke her teammate's heart by dying young. The Hiraishin hadn't saved him. But it was still a powerful tool. The Hokage sighed. "That was a bad decision, but it serves our purposes well. Keep it that way."

After she was left alone, Aiko had a lot of time to think about what had gone wrong. As that was also tinged with what had gone spectacularly right, she wasn't entirely depressed.

Now that she wasn't being questioned, she had time to realize just how pleased she was with herself for making the Hiraishin work. She'd never admit to that feeling out loud. It would be highly inappropriate to be anything less than demure and humble, especially since she hadn't really had to work as hard as she should have for the technique. She had been able to basically crib from Minato's notes and avoid the problems he had in tailoring the technique and had been able to use his changes as a model. The actual elemental changes had been inspired by the conversion seal Jiraiya had designed for her.

Really, very little of the seal was her own original research. Of course, all of those resources would have been useless if she hadn't happened to be a cerebral individual with much more education than any of her peers. Having access to even a basic education from a world that thought in a totally different way gave her twice as much material to use as reference points where someone like Jiraiya would have to come up with ideas that were entirely new to the Elemental Countries on their own.

But hey, it was still really cool.

'The whole 'passing out and bleeding from my face' thing was slightly less cool, though,' she acknowledged in the safety of her own head. The symptoms Tsunade had described fit in with her theory that the Hiraishin involved displacement of air and other molecules, however. She must not have been engaging in perfect displacement, either through inexperience or distraction as she had gotten excited and light-headed.

'Come to think of it, being light-headed might help explain why I was giddy and less rational,' she realized. 'So perhaps the physiological reaction to the Hiraishin seals wasn't entirely a side-effect of the justu so much as that I was …doing it badly.'

Well. That was embarrassing.

This would require some experimentation. Either it was a problem of learning her limit—how many times and what distance she could use the Hiraishin without negative repercussions—or it was a problem of perfecting the technique.

In either case, it was thoroughly possible to acclimatize oneself to function more effectively with lower oxygen levels. That was how people in high elevation lived, after all. Whether this was an irritation she would need to work around permanently or one that she could eventually fix through better control of her technique, gradually repeated exposure would help make the symptoms less severe.

When she met with Tsunade the next morning, she was actually ushered into a conference room she had never seen before. The table was loaded with what appeared to be breakfast and her entire notes from the past month and a half. She took a seat without prompting and rolled a pear in her palm consideringly. Tsunade didn't seem to care one way or the other. She was cutting up some sort of rolled egg concoction and staring blearily into the depths of her coffee.

The fruit was sweet and juicy, wetting her lips when she bit into it. Aiko closed her eyes to enjoy it better.

"I don't suppose the light of day makes what you told me yesterday make more sense?"

She opened her eyes unwillingly to gauge Tsunade's expression. Her voice had sounded so tired. It was strange. "I'm not sure what you mean," she confessed.

The older woman gave a deep sigh. Tsunade unfolded a blank piece of paper and pushed a bottle of ink across the table. "Demonstrate."

So she did, easily inking the seal she had made three times just yesterday. The Hokage tugged it out of her grip and examined it closely, closing one eye to squint at some of the sigils. When she seemed satisfied, the paper was tucked into a folder. Then she picked out another piece of paper from the same folder and set it on the table.

"Uzu… Aiko.." She propped her chin up on her palm. "Look at this, and tell me what you see."

Confused, Aiko took the paper. Her eyes widened.

"It's my official statistics report."

She hadn't actually seen it before. She eagerly ran her gaze over the page, cataloguing the information Konoha had collected on her. The skills breakdown was particularly interesting.

Ninjutsu 2

Taijutsu 2.5

Genjutsu 1.5

Intelligence 4.5

Strength 2

Speed 3.5

Stamina 2.5

Hand Seals 4

Which gave her a total of… 22.5 out of 40. That was actually really respectable. Wasn't Kakashi-shishou's score something in the mid-thirties?

"That paper has not been adjusted to account for either your chakra chains or the Hiraishin, as they would skew the data. Do you see the problem, Uzumaki?" She didn't wait for an answer. "When I look at this sheet, I see a damn good Chuunin or a respectable Jounin who would excel in certain roles. And that is a major problem."

Well, that wasn't what she'd expected.

"You're already known for those chains that skew your otherwise lackluster ninjutsu scores disproportionately high, but the Hiraishin is in a completely different league. Aiko." Tsunade caught her chin and tilted it up. Aiko was so close that she breathed in the other woman's heady floral perfume.

She couldn't look away, not even if her chin had been released. Up close, those amber eyes were strikingly intense.

"You are not anywhere near the level you need to be in order to deal with the type of opponents you will draw using the Hiraishin. Your skills are skewed towards the training you've had as a tracker type."

Aiko couldn't deny that. Although she had worked on her own to master the few ninjutsu shishou had given her and to make her taijutsu high Chuunin levels, shishou had been the one to work her hard on speed and endurance. She could track down damn near any runner.

"So far, you have been compensating for your relatively small and underpowered ninjutsu collection with your intellect. That's a good tool. But spitting a little lightning isn't going to put down the type of shinobi who want to take a swing at a Konoha nin using Hiraishin. I don't think you understand what everyone else thinks of that technique. It is internationally reviled. Everyone will want you dead. "

She swallowed, hard. Then she averted her eyes as best as she could without tugging her face away from Tsunade's grip.

Though she couldn't see it, she could hear the sigh that whooshed out of the older woman. "Listen to me, girl. You do not have the hitting power, either in taijutsu or in ninjutsu to take down S-class ninja who will flock to kill you. I'm sure you can see your weakest points as well as I can. Some of them are more crucial than others. For example, you can survive without being able to cast genjutsu, since you can break them well, but you are pitifully weak in the physical sense. Isn't that why your arm was broken on your last mission?"

Embarrassment turned her face red with heat. She had been stupid. If she had stopped to think, she would have known that using Hiraishin would make her a target. It was probably actually the specific reason behind the decision to hide the twins' parentage. Every Academy student knew that Minato had ripped through entire armies with the Thunder God technique. Rock would want her dead quickly.

"I see you understand." Tsunade released her, turning her face to the side to avoid Aiko's eyes. She cleared her throat. "I had been planning to send you to Sand in a week, you know."

Aiko lifted her head, interested despite herself. Why Sand?

As if the Hokage had heard her thoughts, Tsunade continued, "It doesn't matter, unless you're taking the mission, which we will see about after a re-evaluation. Uzumaki, I absolutely forbid you to use or speak of the Hiraishin until such a time as I clear it, unless it is an absolute emergency. Hatake is out of the village, and will be for weeks. That's a problem for you."

'I didn't know shishou was gone…' It hadn't been that long since she'd seen him last, after all. 'Then again, it's probably an ANBU thing again,' she realized. That would explain why he hadn't told her he was leaving town.

"I'm giving you a two week cram period before I consider you for any missions, Uzumaki. If I were you, I would find a short-term mentor in either ninjutsu or taijutsu. Two weeks won't make you an S-class shinobi, but that might be enough for you to build muscle mass and work out some of the kinks in your taijutsu. I thoroughly expect to hear you've been on the training grounds at least eight hours a day. When Hatake is back, ask him for an upper class jutsu or two. Understood?"

She nodded silently. It made sense.

"I think it's time I told you something." Tsunade tapped her fingers on the table. "Didn't you think it was strange that Jiraiya, a man you barely knew, would entrust you with notes from a former student with the Hiraishin in them?" She watched the girl carefully. She'd half-expected this outcome, but she was still a little surprised to see the girl shake her head. Tsunade narrowed her eyes, cataloguing the tiny tells the girl was giving off. It was easy to see that Aiko was mildly uncomfortable—her gaze wandered away from making eye contact, and her pulse jumped in her neck. But at least she knew she couldn't lie to the Hokage.

"You knew," she said slowly. Aiko nodded.

Tsunade closed her eyes. "I see. Did Hatake tell you?"

"No. But it's obvious, isn't it? Naruto looks exactly like the Fourth Hokage. It's amazing that he hasn't noticed."

A good, truthful answer, but that wasn't everything. "Do you have any questions?" At the negative reply, she sighed. "Fine, then. Get out. I have a meeting coming up."

"Gai-senpai?"

The man turned in unison with his apprentice, eyebrows raising impossibly high. They'd hardly spoken before, after all, and she had never been the one to initiate more than pleasantries. Aiko gave a short bow to break eye contact.

"I was hoping to ask if I could train with you while Kakashi-shishou is out on a long mission. My taijutsu needs work, and I know that your taijutsu abilities outstrip even shishou's."

Shishou might actually be cranky with her for this, she knew during that first workout while Gai beat the absolute crap out of her and shouted cheerful encouragements. She wasn't entirely certain if the older men had a very strange friendship or if Gai really did just butt in on Kakashi-shishou's life. Either way, it wasn't really her place to intervene or use that connection to her advantage.

But the Hokage had been right. She needed to bring her other skills up to at least A-class in order to survive being known for an S-class skill. Solid B-class taijutsu would get her killed in a heartbeat. And Aiko wasn't completely blind to her shishou's faults as a teacher. He didn't seem to know how to teach some things. Being a literal genius at the shinobi arts didn't necessarily translate into being a good teacher of them, after all. That was why people like Iruka and Ebisu were so valued.

Gai was a little disconcerting to work with, however. He had the most formidable force of personality she'd ever encountered, topping even Naruto. The experience reminded her of times when she'd walked too close to a civilian teenager boy who'd apparently bathed in his cologne and the smell felt like a solid wall, burning her eyes and nose. The cologne wasn't bad, it was just too much for the human senses to properly compute, so her brain sort of flopped helplessly and tried to shut out the excess stimuli.

She did genuinely like him, however. He actually reminded her of a Daoist monk. He didn't care at all for convention or reputation, and it was impossible to forget the philosophy he articulated whenever someone seemed to be flagging (or when they were doing well, or before practice…). A man who cared about worldly things would not be caught dead in that jumpsuit. If you switched out mentions of "youth" for "the way", it'd be a perfect fit.

'Would it be sacrilegious to try to rewrite a sacred text?'

Aiko definitely did not have perfect recall and enough specific memories to reproduce the 'Classic of the Way of Power' in a state anywhere like it must have been when she'd read it, but she remembered some of the metaphor and meaning. Something is better than nothing, right?

She had to abandon that train of thought when Gai grabbed her wrist and sternly shook his head at her. "You are thinking too much! All your being must be focused on hitting the post."

Aiko valiantly resisted groaning, glancing down at her bleeding hands. She'd been set to doing this as soon as she was too shaky to meet Lee's blows in the second spar of the day.

This wasn't a training regimen Kakashi proscribed to, as far as she knew. Hitting posts was so old fashioned! Kunoichi and ninjutsu specialists rarely needed to callus their hands the same way that taijutsu specialists did. In fact, the roughened hands could be a detriment for her fingers' flexibility or the ability to blend in as a civilian cover.

But it would improve her physical strength, one of her lowest skill scores. And she could hardly turn her nose up at the training Gai offered when she had asked him.

The neat pile of books and notes on her low table painted a confusing picture that didn't entirely mesh with the quiet, professional girl she had spoken to earlier that day.

Shizune had gone out drinking with a few ANBU friends, leaving Tsunade and Tonton at the mansion alone. Tonton was sleeping, snorting and kicking at the soft, circular rug designated for his use.

If she could just stop mulling over her inconclusive analysis, Tsunade would have been sleeping as well. She had more than enough on her plate to be thinking about something as minor as this. But something just wasn't right about Uzumaki Aiko. Or at least, she didn't know exactly how to pick apart how the oddities about the girl tugged at her attention. The notes from Uzumaki had been impressive enough. She'd expected that—both Anko and Jiraiya had noted separately that she had significant natural ability. That was practically her inheritance, however, so it hadn't been entirely surprising until she'd actually parsed through just what was so strange about the notes that bothered her.

They were methodical, perhaps too methodical to have come from a teenager. It had taken Tsunade a while to analyze the pattern Aiko seemed to utilize, and it definitely wasn't how she would have been taught to experiment with fuinjutsu. Tsunade had never even heard of someone recommending the system of testing that Aiko used. It was full of odd words like 'controls' and 'blind' that didn't make any sense in context. Why would Aiko think to refer to unaltered seals as 'controls'? What was 'blind' about not knowing which seal she was testing? That was better described as 'just plain stupid'. At least, she had thought so until she realized that there was sound logic behind each of those choices and other strange ones throughout the notes. It was a completely foreign way of thinking about seals, and the girl had apparently dreamed it all up on her own so nonchalantly that it didn't even occur to her to explain what her terms meant.

Aiko had been noted by her primary teacher, one Umino Iruka, as having high intelligence, an independent personality, and a tendency to get bored and distracted during class when the material was too easy which seemed to manifest as doodling and writing in a diary. Judging by that, Sensei's choice to place her with Hatake made perfect sense. They had a lot in common, aside from the diary bit.

But those reports hadn't indicated intelligence anywhere near this level. Which meant either that Umino was incompetent, or the girl had been downplaying her mental capabilities.

Tsunade had tested that by showing the girl the statistics with her adjusted intelligence score and not commenting on it to see if Aiko would think it odd. 4.5 was unreasonably high for a teenager, after all. Intelligence didn't just measure natural mental proclivities, but how well they had been developed and honed. Either the girl had an enormous ego, or she'd had no reason to think the elevated score was unusual.

Judging by the books Yamanaka Inoichi had borrowed from his daughter to show her, it was the latter. He'd been impressed when little Ino claimed that the books were written by her friend. He'd been mildly alarmed when he'd realized just how many of those books there were. That was the work of years of writing. Tsunade had flipped through a couple herself and was easily able to see what had so alarmed Inoichi. They were obviously not the work of an adolescent psyche, and the writing project must have started when the girl was still in the Academy.

It was no surprise that her teacher had noted she was bored, Tsunade realized. The girl had to be a genius on Hatake's level to have been this articulate at such a young age. When a prodigy cropped up in their ranks, (and a real prodigy, not just a genius like that Nara boy or how they'd gauged Aiko to be) they wouldn't be left to languish in the Academy. It was a waste of resources. Tsunade wasn't certain if she thought the girl had been benefitted or damaged by slipping through the cracks for so long.

That, combined with what little she had managed to conclude of the girl's personality in person, did constitute something of a picture. Aiko had taken criticism well, proving that although she had to be at least a little overconfident (trying an S class fuinjutsu without guidance proved that bit) she wasn't arrogant and prideful. She hadn't balked at a superior giving her unpleasant advice.

The analysis was even stranger in juxtaposition to her brother. Tsunade was definitely fonder of Naruto. Unlike his sister, he was an open book with big dreams and a strong emotional intelligence. He was empathetic and sensitive to others, and almost had a sixth sense for cutting to the quick of their deepest fears. Naruto was a true inheritor of the Will of Fire, and if Tsunade had anything to do with it, he would be her successor to the position of Hokage when he was strong enough. It was almost unthinkable that he would fail to become an excellent shinobi, despite his lackluster academic performance. He had a strong drive to succeed.

'I wish I knew what was motivating his sister,' Tsunade frowned. The only reasons she could think of for a child to hide their intelligence would be related to avoiding excess responsibility and danger through premature promotions. But the way that Aiko worked spoke of a strong work ethic, which just didn't fit with the other information. Was it just an attempt to impress her sensei? It had been noted more than once that Aiko idolized Hatake. If that wasn't a hint that Aiko was a poor judge of character, Tsunade didn't know what was. He was a good shinobi, but a very broken person.

Personally, Tsunade thought it was adorable that he'd finally found someone more socially inept to mentor. She rubbed at tired eyes and made a mental note to have those books returned to Ino in the morning with orders not to let Aiko know they had been out of her hands. There would be no point in letting her know that others were poking around, after all.

As much as high level shinobi were often highly secretive and private people, Tsunade didn't like to have shinobi rapidly rising through the ranks that she couldn't sum up at a glance. Unknown elements complicated her ability to assign the right person to the right tasks.

Tonton cracked an eye open and sleepily got to his feet, snuffling quietly as he trailed behind Tsunade to her bedroom.

"I bet Shizune is closing down the bar," Tsunade muttered to the pig. He crawled up onto his little bed and collapsed. She let herself smile at the sight—a tired piggy was adorable—and tossed her green haori onto the chair beside her bed, fingers tugging on the obi securing her gray top.

She could worry about that later. Sleep was more important right now.

[queenofzan]

Jaz checks in about fucking zeir husband's childhood bodyguard

I wrote before about how I think Jaz wouldn't actually ask about fucking Sgt. Arevin (Sr.) in the main continuity, but upon reflection...yeah ze would it would just take longer.

The amazing thing here is that Arevin eventually said yes, but the man is in his 60s and no one has ever, like, wanted to have sex with him, as far as he can tell? And Jaz is very hot.

---

"Hey, babe?"

"Mm?"

"How would you feel about me fucking Arevin?"

He looked up at zem, squinting. "What a question," he said. "Why would you want to?"

Jaz laughed. "Come on," ze said. He continued to look puzzled and concerned. "He's hot," ze said.

"Darling, I love the man, but he is, at best, ugly."

"Well, yeah," Jaz said. "That doesn't mean he can't be hot, though. He could kick anyone's ass, and the only reason he doesn't is your parents won't let him. That's hot."

"I see," Sasha said. Jaz poked him in the side. He smirked at zem. "Sometimes I think you're too kinky for me."

"Uh huh," Jaz said. "Remind me again why you can't have penta? Who did you wax poetic about?"

"Shut up," Sasha said, laughing. 

"It's only different because he's like your family," Jaz said. "If he was someone else's barely-restrained killing machine, you'd be thinking about him when I topped you."

"Fine, yes, you may have a point," he said, as if he wasn't blushing now. "You can ask, I suppose. He is pretty resolutely heterosexual, though. Oh, and he does--" He frowned. "Has anyone told you why Father adopted him?"

"The shitty ex, right?"

"Yes," Sasha said. "Boris was... enamored of the sergeant's response to violence."

"Oh, no," Jaz said. "Tell me they didn't."

"No, Arevin was one of Boris's projects after Father," Sasha said. "Thankfully. But he was directly involved in some of his worst exploits. I'm fairly sure he considers himself a rapist."

That, at least, was unsurprising; Delara called Boris Kasharik a prolific sexual abuser. "Still?" Jaz asked. "Your mom hasn't explained otherwise?"

"He wants to believe her too much to believe her, I think," Sasha said. "Father might have better luck, but he might also dismiss a masochist's opinion as biased."

"And the fact that your parents let him raise you and encouraged him to adopt Helen means nothing?" Jaz asked. "You don't let a rapist babysit."

Sasha shrugged. "Boris's younger victims were still old enough to count as adults," he said. "I don't think he considers himself a danger to children."

"And there's no way to get him to a therapist, I suppose."

"Ordering him to go wouldn't do any good," Sasha said. "Mother did suggest it, when she finally got Father to go." He sighed. "He pointed out how unhelpful her own experience with therapy was."

"God," Jaz said. "Hard to argue with that one."

"Anyway," Sasha said, "if that didn't put you off, go ahead and shoot your shot."

"I can take care of myself, I think," Jaz said. "Even against him. Not that I think he's actually a threat, but...sexual trauma plus violent reflexes could be a problem if something goes wrong."

Sasha huffed a little amused breath. "You might be one of the only people who could safely disengage if something did go wrong."

"That's what all the years of merc work were for, actually," Jaz said. "So I could safely fuck traumatized old men."

"Thus the move to Kavagor," Sasha said, nodding. "Finally, it all makes sense. You're using me to access our population of veterans."

"You got it," Jaz said. "You're a very sexy means to an end, but only a bonus, really."

He sighed theatrically. "I always knew I'd wind up a trophy husband."

[evelhak]

🍈 and 🍌 for the fic questions

Thank you for the juicy questions!

🍈 Who’s your blorbo and what are some of your favorite headcanons/ideas about them that repeatedly show up in your fics? Free pass to rant about blorbo opinions.

Well, I feel like anyone I write extensively about is my blorbo I guess, even though I haven't really used that word and I'm not completely clear on all its implications. Anyway, I feel like people always ask me about Kuroko, and I don't get a chance to talk about Kagami alone enough, so I'll talk about him this time, since the two are the characters whose POVs I write the most.

One of my favourite recurring tropes with Kagami is his dreams. Because he's not super articulate or in touch with his subconsciousness, but has good instincts he can't quite explain because of that, I often take him to his subconsciousness through dreams when I need him to figure out something, or I need to relay something to the reader that Kagami knows but can't explain: the dream serves as a visual/physical manifestation of things that with characters who have the required level of conceptual thinking, I can just write as verbal thought processes. But with Kagami I have to get creative, and it's really worth it. His dreams are some of my favourite parts of my writing because they present themselves in a unique way. Kuroko has some complex dreams too that are like... intellectually stimulating for me, but Kagami's dreams have this unparalleled sense of physicality to me, because his deep dive into immaterial needs to be driven by the material for him to make any sense of it. I'm very much the opposite so it's an experience I can't access in many ways outside of writing someone like him.

I also love to explore how intensely Kagami experiences things. I'm not sure that side of him always gets enough recognition, outside of basketball, but I really enjoy elaborating on it, the highs and lows he can work himself into and how his fire can really burn him too.

Also I love to focus on how Kagami is Not Stupid. How he has the kind of simplistic wisdom and practical intelligence that doesn't even register to people as intelligence. How his type of thinking is exactly what solves the problem sometimes while the more "intelligent", conceptual, logical, complex thinking characters are still stuck in the "introduction to theory" or something. Kind of related to that, I also like to explore how being treated as stupid, but also too loud and too much, has affected his self-perception.

On a more clear headcanon department, I interpret him as demi- and pansexual and having ADHD so those things kind of affect everything even if they aren't directly talked about so often.

I also like to explore Kagami's identity regarding how Japanese and how American he is, how his experiences have shaped him, how it shows up from ideas and thoughts to the mundane stuff. How his humour might sometimes be more American and things like that. I also like to show him cooking more than just Japanese food, because I feel like the reason he learned was because his dad was so busy even when they were living together, so Kagami must have at least in part learned to cook from TV so it doesn't make sense to me that his cooking repertoire wouldn't be somewhat international.

Which brings me to the dad thing. I like to explore that too, especially in the later parts of my fic series. I'm on the side of the fandom that saw Kagami and thought his behaviour screams someone who essentially had to raise himself. Not completely of course, but his dad wasn't as present as he should have been (and for me his mom wasn't there at all). I see his dad as someone who does love Kagami and gave him a lot of freedom, but not always in a positive sense. Kagami could sense that his busy dad would be less burdened if he could look after himself, so any time his dad asked him if he could handle something on his own, Kagami felt like he had to show that he could. His dad did ask genuinely, and would not have left Kagami on his own if he had said he needed help, but he was also not mature enough to realise that sometimes children will do just about anything to please their parents, and the responsibility of deciding whether or not a child needs a parent shouldn't be left on the child to decide like that. Anyway, there's obviously a lot to that topic, so I'm not going to ramble more now.

🍌 In your opinion, what's the funniest joke/reference/pun you've made in a fic?

I saw you say it's one of the top ten most difficult questions to ask from a writer with no sense of humour... but it's definitely just as difficult a question for a writer who loves trolling characters, and lives and breathes references. Also I have written so much fic that there is no way I can remember my funniest jokes, plus my favourite ones are either so spoilery I don't want to put them on a Tumblr post, or they pan out, only hitting the punch line hundreds of thousands of words later. My best ones are so elaborate the only way to get everything out of them is to find them yourself.

Also, you just can't expect me to decide, so I'm going to give you a few that I like, ones that need the least explaining.

Basically my entire Into The Woods AU fic Anything Can Happen is one big joke/reference, but I'm gonna give you a few highlights. The whole fic is in First Person and Kagami's POV, and it's essentially crack. Obviously the jokes only really work as long as you know Into the Woods in detail. So. Sorry, if you don't.

The following scene is referencing the song "Agony". Kagami and Aomine have just had a sword fight and argued about their relationship problems.

(part of conversation removed for spoilers)

The voice at the end is "the narrator" because there has to be one in Into The Woods.

I think Midorima and Takao are pretty funny as the baker couple, one of whom can't even bake of course. Kagami and Aomine have been walking through the woods, when they hear these two arguing.

I thought Kise would make the most hilarious Jack.

Then I have my Fantasy AU/Fem Kuroko fic where the GoM are knights and Kuroko is a girl in a tower, before joining them. The world is threatened by the mysterious Nothing which the knights are fighting. This story is literally riddled with canon references that I think are funny, but here's a scene between Kuroko (in a tower) and Aomine (down by the window) which I think gets at the heart of my humour with references.

First Person, Kuroko's POV. Also everyone goes by their first name in this fic.

I also thought this name thing and Akashi's riddle was quite funny on multiple levels and I'm still salty no one has figured it out and told me it's funny. : D

I think this one might be a little too on the nose, and like author's voice is coming through/breaking the fourth wall, which I usually hate, but I still find it funny this time. It's from my fic The Other Things. Riko has tied people together with a ribbon as a trust excersice and these four are working on their issues while trying to play basketball, tied in pairs. Kagami's POV.

Lol I hope some of that was at least mildly amusing. It's actually difficult to find things that are funny without more context. Anyway, this should give you an idea of my sense of humour.

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Sam had convinced him to go to this charity gala the Wayne family was hosting so she wouldn't have to be alone with her parents. It really wasn't that bad when you had someone to talk to who wasn't a rich snob, so Sam was always ecstatic whenever he agreed to come. Danny himself was feeling a bit overprotective of Sam who was just excited to see the city. Gotham was great for its gothic ascetic but Danny feared any number of crooks and creeps might try to take advantage of a rich tourist.

It was once they were at the gala that the trouble began. First of all, Dannys red string of fate pulled taught, signaling that his soulmate was near. Danny had been startled by it and turned invisible on reflex. Thankfully no one noticed. But just the though of his soulmate potentially being a rich snob ruined his mood. Soulmates didn't always get along after all and Danny didn't want to get stuck in a toxic relationship due to social pressures, so he decided just to stay invisible.

Meanwhile, whichever batfamily member you decide to ship Danny with noticed their string pull taught and informed the group chat so that they could begin looking for thier other half. They unfortunately, never found them.

Danny and Sam start quietly freaking out when they realize Dannys string is leading directly to the finger of one of the Wayne family. The princes and princesses of Gotham, who, to Dannys horror, was rumored to fund Batman and his endeavors. This was bad. Very bad. The bat family were known as the world's greatest detectives and could find anything/anyone.

Danny and his friends had done everything in thier power to keep what was happening in Amity Park hidden from the world. The Ghost Zone was a wonderful place of magic, mystery and extreem danger-even to its own inhabitants. It was a place where you could not only travel between dimensions and realities, but could access the entirety of the omniverse. There were so many artifacts of great might and secrets never ment for mortals to bare. If Batman did find any useful info it would likely be stored on a "Secure" computer where the information would be vulnerable to anyone who managed to steal- or ancients forbid- sell it.

More than anything the GZ was a place with a lot of power. Power that would be abused.

The entirety of the Ghost Zone would be in danger if Batmans clan came sniffing around to uncover things they shouldn't and Danny doubts they would listen to reason. They've never really seemed the type to turn away an intriguing case. So Danny stayed hidden.

The batclan wouldn't let it stay that way and a few weeks later, Danny saw his first bat in Amity Park.

Edit: I forgot to mention this but they checked the guest list and compared it to other galas and stuff to see which people didn't give the string that reaction and narrowed down the suspects. They then send the bat in question to get near to them until they eventually narrow it down to Sam and her "guest".

Only problem is that the only person in Sams life that matched the description from the cameras and witnesses was a boy who went missing when he was 15 and never found.

Also, what tf is happening in Amity Park?!?!

[compassionatereminders]

Anon said "And who's fault is it that you are awake for 35h+ not having a good time? You, exactly. That's why it's not useful to do drugs while you are in fucking Japan. You are putting the person you are staying with in danger for doing drugs and scare them with not sleeping. Congrats. Sure when you are in Denmark you can do wtf you want but going into a foreign country and doing drugs? That wasn't the wisest idea 🤷🏻‍♀️"

Ok but like... Will anon kindly know their fucking place and take a seat? I know this kind of thing doesn't really deserve an answer, but it pissed me off, and I deal with that by being argumentive :P

Point number 1: whose "fault" is it that Kat is awake on drugs, feeling poorly, for 35+ h? Well, as anon points out, Kat certainly has some responsibility in this situation. But in any given situation, the "fault" can be placed anywhere, depending on who you feel like attacking.

Unless you imagine Kat is literally stealing meds from me without my knowledge, does this situation not also imply "fault" on my side? Have I not knowingly taken on the responsibility of caring for Kat, drug use and all? Please. Don't reduce me to some poor little meow meow being taken advantage of and "put in danger" by the big bad Kat.

What is actually interesting here is anon's need to assign blame in the first place, and the fact that they present this perceived blame as "gotcha", when in fact they are literally repeating what Kat has already said herself.

Then, it would seem to me, that their primary investment is in hurting Kat.

If they truly are SO worried for the well-being of my brother and I, you'd expect them to sense that Kat is already feeling poorly and some amount of guilt/shame-fuelled anxiety. They would be aware that trying to make that worse, will only make the situation harder on everyone. But fact is, they don't care. About Kat, or me, or my brother.

They see an opening, and they immediately punch at it.

Anon, people like you are the reason people don't get help for legitimate problems, people like you actively make life harder for already-suffering people, people like you create a guarded defensiveness in anyone, you are the polar opposite of a compassionate reminder.

Do you think shame and guilt are constructive emotions? Do you think they are good for encouraging healthy behavior? If you do, consider go do some research...

Point number 2: ok no one is in danger, chill out. I think anon is just wildin', but just in case someone out there is legitimately worried, I'm gonna spell this part out. OBVIOUSLY Kat is not doing anything in a foreign country that could get her into serious legal trouble. If nothing else, I wouldn't let her, but she also wouldn't risk that. Misuse of prescription medication is problematic, but it's not dangerous in a legal sense, the way it would be, if we started acquiring street drugs in a country known for cracking down hard on illegal drugs.

Maybe anon is suggesting, rather, that Kat will become "dangerous" from overdoing drugs. I can assure anon that if either Kat or I thought she could become "dangerous" -and by "dangerous" I mostly mean "psychotic" and "dangerous to herself", then she would not have access to these drugs atm.

3: "scare them with not sleeping" .... Ok now you're just reaching. It might have been recently Halloween, but someone struggling to sleep, and subsequently needing a bit of help taking care of herself physically/mentally is not exactly a jumpscare ^^"

4: people who say "congrats" ironically are the literal worst. Go roll in a pile of pebble.

-Quinn

Some words directly from Quinn - the actual real life person involved in this unfortunate affair. So maybe you can all stop putting words in his mouth now? I mean considering that none of y'all actually know enough details about the situation to do anything but make antagonistic accusations

[viperbarnes]

The Tie That Binds – [Two of Eight]

[B. Barnes, Soulmate AU]

Summary: HYDRA took everything from you, your life, your future, they even burned off your soulmark to make sure nobody would go looking for you. Now the man they forced you to fix reappears in your life, to make amends and to be ‘of service’.

You know that they made him do all those things, that James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is not The Winter Soldier, that he’s innocent. You don’t blame him.

But that doesn’t make seeing him again any easier.

Warnings: Panic attacks, language, talk and depiction of home invasion and abduction, canon level violence, HYDRA levels of torture, angst, fluff, slow-ish burn, friends to lovers.

Note: This is entirely un-beta'd so all mistakes are my own. Thank you for reading!

<- Prev / Next ->

The room is cold enough that you can see your breath in the air. Around you, the low hum of activity signals the debrief after a mission well-done, various personnel seeing to their jobs as you do yours.

The Winter Soldier sits as still as a statue in the chair set out for him, already waiting when you’d arrived. You’d been in the middle of some of the best sleep you’d had in weeks when your cell door had flung open, and you’d been unceremoniously dragged from your bed. Even though they blindfolded you every time, by now you knew the way to the debrief room by heart.

You aren’t sure how long they’ve had you, time passes strangely when you only ever saw the inside of a cell. You’d attempted to keep track at first, but eventually you’d lost count of how many days had passed, or if they had at all… for all you know, you’d been counting nights, anyway.

It must have been years at this point.

You work quietly on the Soldier’s arm, the incredible piece of machinery and engineering the only bright spot in your confined life, but even that had worn thin some time ago. You were never permitted to really look at it, just fix any faults or problems that it had. And it certainly had its faults. After you’d first been taken, and you’d realised there was no way you were ever leaving here alive, you’d tried to make do, to make the best of your situation.

After every mission, the Soldier would need repairs made to the artificial limb which, while an astounding piece of biomechanical engineering, seemed to be oddly fragile. You had kept yourself busy, thinking up ways to improve elements of the arm, so that it wouldn't need so many repairs, but when you had approached someone vaguely in charge about it, you’d been told to keep your mouth shut.

Interestingly, a few of your proposed improvements seemed to present the next time you’d worked on him, though, none were executed in ways that made them truly useful.

You keep your head down as you work, eager to finish as soon as possible. You didn’t often pay much mind to the goings-on around you when you were called to service, but the heated conversation happening several meters away from where you sat beside the Soldier put you on edge.

A man in a suit and a man in nondescript military fatigues seemed to be having a barely civil discussion, moving in and out of English, and what you think may be Russian. The man in the military fatigues was one you’d seen plenty of times before. He never spoke to you directly, but the soldiers and guards of the facility responded to him like the lash of a whip. You’d heard him referred to as Karpov, and you can only assume he was in command of this facility.

The man in the suit however, you’d only seen a few times, and only ever in the debrief room when the Soldier had returned from a mission. He was American, his accent made that much clear, but further than that you didn’t know.

You’re still leant over the metal limb, several of its outer panels peeled open and removed so that you may access the mechanics inside, when the heated conversation gets nearer. You flinch at the movement out of the corner of your vision, causing your tweezers to tap into a wire that they really shouldn’t. The result is a small spark, and a slight shock for your ‘patient’, and though he doesn’t move an inch, when you hiss at your own mistake, and swivel your eyes up worriedly, you find he’s dipped his chin enough to watch you out of the corner of his eye.

You can’t tell if he’s glaring or not, his face always sullen and morose, but briefly you feel the urge to apologise.

You don’t however, fearing a reprimand from either of the arguing men who still near.

“You hide behind that book, Karpov.” The American man shakes his head.

“Without me and my book, you are nothing.” Karpov all but spits back. You feel your body stiffen as they begin to circle around the Soldier, and you by extension.

“Is that right?” The American man taunts, stopping on the other side of the chair to you and planting his feet. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“Солдат, убей ее.” He commands in perfect Russian.

Before you can even register what is happening, there is a hand around your throat, forcing you back and up, until your feet have left the ground. A crashing sound joins the sudden chaos, your small workbench of tools upended and scattered over the concrete floor, all other personnel in the room backing themselves against walls or desks as they watch on in shock and surprise.

You can only gasp as your airway is constricted, and you’re left to claw pathetically at the hand that has raised you from the ground. Fear and adrenaline fuel your futile fight, and you look desperately to Karpov, who watches on in thinly veiled horror.

Your eyes feel ready to pop from their sockets, your ears filled with nothing but the sound of your own blood when you’re suddenly released, dropping to the ground like a sack of bricks.

You gasp for air, the cold burning your throat and lungs as you drink it down. You scurry back out of pure instinct, spluttering and terrified, sending your fallen tools even further in every direction.

The American turns to his companion, a smug expression smeared across his features. You can’t hear what he says, your senses still too scrambled to pick it up properly, but he gestures to you, leaving Karpov with some final words before he turns on his heel and leaves.

You’re still shaking, gasping for air in terror when Karpov finally turns back to you.

He orders you to finish your work, and then he leaves.

You wake with a soft gasp.

Swallowing thickly, you force your eyes shut again as you take in several deep breaths, calming yourself as best you can. Unable to help yourself, you lift a hand to delicately touch your throat, where the bruises from your dream feel all too real for several seconds, before they fade into memory.

You could have died then, you’re sure of it. All your suffering, all the effort HYDRA went into seeking you out, it would have amounted to nothing. And for what? A petty power play?

It makes you feel small, which makes you angry.

You know they were an evil Nazi organisation and all, but they’d upended your entire life, completely ruined any semblance of normalcy you could ever hope to have again, and they hadn’t even had the decency to act as if you weren’t replaceable.

For all you did know about HYDRA and it’s going ons, there was so much you didn’t know. After you’d been freed, you hadn’t gone out of your way to seek out information, everything you knew was everything you’d found out about during your court hearings.

When Captain Rogers had brought down SHIELD and HYDRA, there had been a dozen raids on known facilities, the one you’d been at at the time being one of them. But bureaucracy would be bureaucracy and they’d had to officially investigate and clear your name before you were truly free to go.

There wasn’t much question about your innocence though, HYDRA hadn’t really bothered to code any of their notes or files on you or your capture.

By the time they’d let you go, you were more than willing to disappear and never hear about HYDRA or SHIELD or anything else to do with it ever again.

You’d managed it for almost seven years, too, until The Winter Soldie– Bucky– had shown up.

You chew on your lip and glare up at your ceiling, and then, with a hefty sigh, you reach for your phone on the nightstand, and the slip of paper tucked beneath it.

---

Once more, you marvel that the man before you is the same as the one who occasionally haunted your dreams.

It was rather incredible what simple expression could do to change a face.

Bucky Barnes sits in the corner of the coffeeshop looking both innocuous and extremely out of place as he fiddles with the gloves he still wears. His distraction must be true, because he only notices you once you’re already halfway to the booth, his face lighting up with recognition. For a moment he looks as though he might stand up to greet you, but you give him no time to do so, quickly sliding yourself in across from him with a thin smile.

“Thank you for meeting me.” You greet, settling yourself into the seat. Bucky waves you off with a shake of his head and seems to adjust himself in his place.

“Of course… is something wrong…?”

It’s strange to you, that you can pick out nervousness in his voice, that he would let himself be so readable, but then you wonder if he even realises. You give him another thin smile and shake your head, but reach for the menu.

“No. Nothing is wrong. Have you ordered?”

After two coffees are delivered to your table, yours a simple latte, and his a caramel mocha with marshmallows that you have to raise your brow at, you settle in once more and focus on why you’d asked him to come.

“You said… when you approached me, you said you were trying to make amends…?” You say, but it comes out more like a question than you intend. Bucky’s brows knit together and he nods.

“To be of service.” He confirms. A part of you bristles at that, a part that thinks he’s done quite enough of serving others for one lifetime, but you brush the thought aside.

“I– I thought of something that maybe you could help me with…” You aren’t expecting his face to light up the way it does, or for him to lean forward almost unwittingly. Momentarily you’re reminded of a very good dog.

“I don’t know much about HYDRA. Or why they did what they did… but I want to know.” You find yourself unable to meet his eye fully as you say this, instead focusing on gently turning your coffee cup around in place on its saucer.

“If you have questions, I’ll answer everything I know.” Bucky tells you a moment later. Something in his voice makes you feel as though he understood, and you wonder if he’d felt the same at some point. You look up at him briefly, grateful for the lack of judgement.

“Do you remember everything that you did? Were you aware of what was happening, or does it just feel sort of dream-like now?” You can’t help but blurt out seconds later, as if the opportunity might be gone in a few few minutes. Bucky blinks, and you can see him restraining the small quirk of his lips as he takes a sip from his cup and places it back down again.

“It’s a little bit of both. I remember everything, but it does feel ‘dream-like’, in retrospect.” He tells you.

“Who was Karpov?” Your next question makes him pause, a brief, almost undetectable flash of disgust and anger crossing his features before he clears his throat and speaks again.

“A Soviet, then Russian intelligence officer… He ran the program for a time…” Bucky frowns as he speaks. You nod, having thought as much.

“He’s dead, now.” He adds after a moment, and you glance up at him questioningly.

“Wasn’t me.”

You proceed to poke and prod at his brain for the next hour, and to his credit, he answers every single one of your questions as best he can. Even subjects that you think he may not normally broach, or things that seem like they might be classified, he tells you honestly.

You’ve both gone through two coffees when you’re finally coming to the end of your questioning, your mind filled up with more information than you could possibly hope to remember at length, but that wasn’t the point.

The odd ease you’d felt the last time, when he’d shadowed you around the grocery store, is gone. You no longer felt as though he posed some kind of threat, which was ridiculous, because the sheer size of him should have instilled that in you. The fact that you had so many traumatic memories tied to him should have sealed the deal, but somehow, it’s like none of that mattered.

That in itself gives off its own unease.

You feel like you’re in a constant limbo.

A comfortable silence had settled between you since your last question (and answer), and you watch Bucky finish off his drink. He’d removed his gloves halfway through your talk, and you’d done your best to steer your eyes away from the shiny black and gold of his new metal limb. Now though, you find your curiosity piqued at the sight of a strange black mark on the underside of his wrist, only visible when his sleeve pulls back just so.

You’d never noticed it before, though why would you have? You were always too focused on his metal limb. It makes you wonder though, which leads you to staring at your own hand, at the discreet lumpy white scar on the back of your palm.

“Do you know why they removed my soulmark?” The question comes quieter than all the others, and you don’t look at him as you ask it, though you see from the corner of your eye that he stops and stares down at your hand too.

He doesn’t reply at first, and you almost think he may not have heard you. When you do look up at him, he seems to jump, blinking rapidly and tearing his gaze from your hand.

“My guess is they didn’t want any loose ends…” He says slowly, but frowns.

“They didn’t remove yours?” You nod to his wrist, which he looks down at, clearly resisting the urge to cover it up again.

“They tried… but the serum… I guess it prevented them from doing any last damage to it.” Bucky tells you, finally meeting your eye again. He looked pained, but you don’t understand why. It wasn’t as though he really did lose his mark. Not like you.

For a brief few moments a burning jealousy overcomes you.

It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t fair that he should keep his and you should lose yours! You would forever be left wondering, no matter how much you healed from your ordeal, you would forever be left with the scars of it, unable to truly move past it.

You stare down at your hand again and feel the anger fuel you.

“They took everything from me. My life, my career… even love,” You wave your hand briefly before scoffing and shoving it into your lap. You didn’t want to look at it anymore. You didn’t want anybody to look at it anymore. Bucky sits quietly, face drawn into an intense scowl.

“I should hate you. I want to, believe me…” You purse your lips and shake your head, blinking away any tears that spring to your eyes. Now was not the time.

“But I can’t, ‘cause even though what they did to you was worse… You’re the only other person who understands. And I don’t have anybody else.” You shake your head again and feel the tension leave your body with your words.

It’s as if saying them out loud releases the anxiety in your bones. You feel lighter all of a sudden, the heaviness that you’d felt since gaining your freedom, the tiredness, it seems to diminish somewhat.

When you can finally bring yourself to meet his eye again, Bucky is watching you with something like sympathy, though, it feels softer than that.

“I was alone, and I thought I was fine with that.” You ball your hands into fists and let out a deep breath.

“And then you showed up.”

Bucky’s lips quirk, but this time he doesn’t try to hide it.

“Does that mean you’re no longer alone, or that you’re no longer fine with it?” He asks, and you can’t help but chortle.

“I don’t know yet.”

---

The burning question Bucky had had since he last saw you, the one he’d not known how to answer, resolves itself in the worst way possible.

He stares at the lumpy white scar on the back of your hand and feels his blood run cold. He’d been scared that you’d realised the truth, or that he’d have to tell you sooner or later, but this is far, far, worse than that.

They’d removed your soulmark.

Bucky knows they’d tried with him, remembers the searing pain, but it had never worked. With you however…

His chest aches just thinking about how you must feel. It was clear by the look on your face how much it affected you, and regardless of how you would have reacted had your soulmark been untouched, to find out he was your soulmate, Bucky wishes this were the one thing he could go back and change.

It leaves a hole deep in his chest.

But something else nags at his mind, long after he’s parted ways with you. You had no idea who you were to one another. It feels like a cruel joke played by the universe. Bucky clearly still made you uneasy, and even if you felt as though you could understand one another, that was very different to wanting to be soulmates.

No.

Bucky decides that you deserved more than a cruel joke. After everything you’d been through, you deserved true happiness.

And Bucky Barnes would rather see his soulmate happy without him, than miserable because of him.

If you like and enjoy, a comment or a reblog would be greatly appreciated!

[prof-peach]

Hey Prof, I need your advice.

My sister recently decided she didn't wanted her bulbasaur anymore (she got him on a whim about a month ago) and gave him to me, he is quite violent and tends to attack when I try to get close to him.

Now, that wouldn't be a huge problem, but my Purrloin has gotten hurt trying to befriend him, she's quite outgoing and never really liked fighting (we enjoy contests so she knows a few more flashy attacks), so she couldn't even defend herself properly.

I don't want to give up on him and my local rescue center is filled with Bunearies (you know, after Easter kids don't want their Bunny anymore) so they can't take him in right now, any advice in how I can go about this situation?

Sounds to me like you have a tricky little dude on your hands. So you're not battle orientated which will make this harder, Bulbasaur in the wild are actually quite combat minded to defend their families and territory, and a lot of their herds consist of strict hierarchy based on power and skill, often led by older, fully evolved members of their group. 

Before you take any actions to befriend them, its worth noting that any pokemon who comes into your care showing aggression is usually doing so for one or two reasons that are pretty universal for any species. Fear being the main issue with pokemon who have been ditched, if a pokemon is unwell, if it feels exposed, if it is unsure of you or your home, your partners, it may lash out because it is afraid. Even what looks like pure anger can stem from a fear. Of course some individuals are just full of rage, its not unheard of, but for the most part it comes from somewhere else. 

For a moment, take the time to put yourself in this pokemons shoes. It was chosen, with hopes and ambitions of its own, by your sister, a stranger to them, and for whatever reason they were cast aside. This reason may be unclear to the pokemon, it may be unfair, unkind, or even without malice just out of pure indifference. No matter the reason, this pokemon has been left behind by a trainer it at one point probably wanted to try to get along with. I don’t know what your sister may or may not have done, or provided for the bulbasaur, but it will help you understand how its feeling, if you were to ask her about their relationship prior to you receiving the pokemon. If it has always been aggressive and angry, i’d seriously consider talking to it about release, not rehome. 

We humans have a preconceived notion that pokemon are pets and things to keep with us. This may be true for some sure, but not every pokemon wishes to be a captive to a human, they may want more for themselves, and wish for a free life with their own kind. We cannot put our wants and desires above that of the pokemons, so you two need to have a talk, at a respectful distance for safeties sake, to see what the Bulbasaur feels they may want. These are herd pokemon, born and bred to be with their own kind, if not a larger group, if its lonely, if it wants to go home, to start a family, or simply to not be held in a ball as some creature to be owned, then you as its current carer must give it what you can. You can always find another pokemon who wants to be your partner, but you cannot give back lost years to a pokemon who has lived a life its unhappy with. Treat them with respect, and be open and honest. At the end of the day we have a chance to help pokemon, and forcing what we want onto them is a hinderance, and will lead to them feeling unsatisfied and bitter in the long run. 

Some pokemon lash out due to the process of being handed off to someone else, trust is earnt, not always just simply given to whoever holds the pokeball. Remember this as you move forward, and try to keep your other pokemon away from them, Bulbasaur are territorial species, and have to accept pokemon into their families before simply allowing them to come and go freely into their personal space. Despite their grouchy natures at times they usually do have a morally positive compass, and defend with ferocity when they love something. Perhaps in you showing genuine concern for their welfare and future, offering them not what you want, but instead what they want, they may give you a chance to get closer, but take baby steps, and try to be their friend above all else. I bet they're feeling pretty lonely right now. 

Its worth sharing interests with the pokemon, talk about contests, see if they're interested, some pokemon have a predisposition for this, others have no interest and prefer more battle based lives, or even peaceful non-competitive existences. no amount of pressure will change a pokemon’s nature, and some just aren't cut out for the fine art of showmanship that contests require. You can however use powerful attacks in showy ways, so theres always hope that they could enjoy it, if you can work with them to their strengths. 

If possible, work to getting them outdoors, cooping grass types up can lead to stroppy, testing personalities, many thrive in the outdoors, he may need some serious outside time to compensate for the lack of exercise and natural stimulation they may have not been getting prior to your ownership. There are plenty of areas in public that are much like tennis courts, areas of space you can book for a set amount of time too exercise difficult pokemon, these locations are often secure facilities, both outdoors and indoors, to suit a range of species. find one that has outdoor facilities and book a few hours per week to go there, increasing the time whenever possible. This exercise and time with you may help to find common ground, and topics that you and the bulbasaur can bond over. This can be anything from battles, to sun bathing, playing sports, games, swimming, running or digging, and everything in between. Bulbasaur naturally are great foragers and tend to like to snaffle about in long grass and shrubland, hiding treats like berry slices in a secure environment is good enrichment and can tire the pokemon out. a tired pokemon is usually a little less aggressive, having lower energy levels and less want to expend attacks. this process also associated you with something fun, and your scent will be on the treats too, so they'll know you were the one to provide this activity for them.   

I’d also take plenty of time to observe the bulbasaur, as your sister got them on a whim, they probably had no prior knowledge of the species, or how to correctly care for them. In a month, a health complaint could have begun to show, so observe their colouration, feet, walking gait, sleeping patterns, feeding habits, and general behaviour. Excess scratching, heavy breathing, or unusual shaking or moving can suggest a health condition is starting to take form. Most can be helped if caught early, but some illnesses give the pokemon discomfort, and can lead to snappy tempers and irritability. It could be that this individual is in pain, or finding life difficult due to its health, which can cause a lot of hostility as i’m sure anyone would agree. It can suck to be sick!

This species can be won over if you can prove you have a skill of worth to them. This is the case with a lot of pokemon, having respect for something they cannot do, and learning that they need things from you can lead to them at least tolerating us humans. Its a foot in the door. A trick i like t use with particularly difficult bulbasaur is to give them their fav food, whatever it is, then put it in a clear container the pokemon cannot open. They have no thumbs, and their vines though dexterous, aren't able to open every kind of container. The pokemon will want whats inside, and be unable to access it. they will eventually give up out of frustration. this is where you come in. enter the space, don’t let your pokemon approach as this can be threatening, and open the container. leave it on the floor open, making sure they've watched you get the thing open. They can then approach and enjoy their fav food, all thanks to you and those wondrous thumbs you have. repeating this process yields good results, and starts a mutual relationship of tolerance and acceptance between you and a bulbasaur. Most will accept they want the food more than they want you gone, and you provide something they can’t get to. whatever you do, don’t let them see that you were the one to lock the food up in the container. Get a friend to do it, or do it in the room, and leave it in place on the floor, before allowing the bulbasaur to enter and investigate the item. If they see you're the one doing it, the trick is foiled, and your back to square one. Eventually this does tend to lead to the pokemon becoming less stressed with you around them, and eventually it leads to trust, and even friendship. This trick is good to use to get them use to you, once they're ok with you being around them because of your use to them, they may start to take food from you directly, engage in play, or even just sit and tolerate company for short periods of time. Do not expect this to be quick, but it does usually do the trick. 

Regardless, i do have concern that the pokemon may want to be with its own, should you discuss this and find they're not interested in being housebound and a pet, feel free to send them our way, we had exactly this situation in mind when setting up the islands facilities, and have extensive locations designed with grass pokemosn needs at the forefront. Theres a small herd of about 12 bulbasaur evolutions that live north of our labs, no people see them, they are happy as a unit, and are left alone to go about their lives, with the only interactions between humans being us giving them their yearly health check, or should we spot them with an issue, we may intervene. They live away from others and pretty much free, in a poacher safe environment. Its not ideal, we like to keep pokemon in areas they come from, with people who love them, and you show great concern for the pokemon so it would be a shame to have to let them go, BUT sometimes thats just life, and theres nothing to be done about it other than accepting that the pokemons wants come first. They may just be mistrusting so try everything else first, and see how you go. hopefully you’ll yield some results from this all. Good luck out there trainer. 

[astro-rain]

delicate; b.barnes

chapter fourteen - “pinky promise”

delicate masterlist

word count: 2.1k

synopsis: bucky and the reader reconvene after the events of the previous night, figuring out what they need to do from there. pinky promises are endearing but they don’t prevent the effects of distressed regret & emotional frustration.

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

She awoke with wet regret staining her cheeks. She remembered falling asleep with shame, liquid guilt seeping out of her eyes. Slowly and silently weeping herself to sleep while drunk. What a colossal fucking mistake she made. She felt terrible, and she could only imagine how Bucky felt. She needed to apologize. Immediately.

She found that her shoes were still on when she got out of bed.

"Oh, Christ," she huffed at her messiness.

Regardless, she grabbed a jacket for protection from the chilly Wakandan morning air before rushing to the door, determined to find Bucky as soon as possible and apologize profusely for the previous night.

She opened the door but before she could dash out, she smacked directly into what felt like hard wood. Wait, no. The "hard wood" was a chest, and that chest belonged to a person... it was Bucky. Damn it.

"Sorry!" the two exclaimed simultaneously.

They both backed up.

"Y/N..."

"Bucky."

"Can we talk?"

"Yes. Please."

They awkwardly made their way into the room, eventually sitting side by side on the end of her bed. The air was quiet and void of their usual content and lighthearted atmosphere. Both of them sat staring straight forward.

"Bucky, I... I am so sorry about last night. I know being drunk isn't an excuse for being unprofessional, but I really have no other explanation as to why I'd ever do something so inappropriate. I feel awful and I can't imagine how uncomfortable I've made you. I will completely understand if you don't want to work with me anymore. I can talk to Shuri or T'Challa and we can find someone else to take my place if—"

"Woah," he turned to her, slightly alarmed. "Slow down, slow down. Who said anything about replacing you?"

"Well, I just thought after...last night, you'd rather have someone else work with you. It probably wouldn't be wise to continue treatment with me after certain... professional boundaries have been damaged."

"I'm not working with anyone else."

She looked at him bewildered, but he looked dead serious.

Y/N shook her head. "I—"

"Look, I'm not a therapist and I don't know the criteria of your 'professional boundaries'... But you were drunk. It happens. I don't think any less of you because you had a little too much. Believe me, I've been there."

"I know, but it's not necessarily the drinking that was the problem. It was... my actions."

"Right. And I don't think leaning a couple inches is really grounds for leaving Wakanda."

It was more than just "leaning a couple inches," and she knew that. She was humiliated by her drunken errors, but it was seductively dizzying to be that close to him. In the moment, she relished in every second, every atom of hers that was touching him. However, it was the afterthought that was the problem, the realization of what she had done and how wrong it was.

"Bucky..."

"I'm not working with anyone else."

"I'm not the only good therapist, you know."

"But you're my therapist. I don't want a new one."

"And I don't want to disrupt your progress, but there's no way I can keep treating you after last night."

"Why not? What's gonna happen if you do? Nothing."

"It's not that simple."

"Nobody was here. No one knows but us. There's no way you can get into trouble."

"It's not entirely about getting in trouble. It's about the nature of our relationship and how that change can impact how effectively and ethically I can treat you."

He was quiet for a minute, thinking.

He shook his head, looking down at his feet. "We can work something out..."

"I don't think so, Buck..."

"So you're just gonna leave then?"

"I think that's what needs to happen."

He turned his head to her, making deliberate eye contact.

"Y/N, please."

"All I wanna do is do right by you, and I can't do that after I've compromised our relationship."

"But you didn't compromise—"

"Bucky," she exasperated, "Can you please try to understand?"

"Can you please try not to be so hasty about things? Our relationship is fine. You don't need to leave."

Stubborn. He was being stubborn. But, all she could see was strong will and passion. That was the problem. All his faults morphed into aptitudes when they filtered through her perception.

"I really care about you, Buck. I just want you to have access to the help you need, and as much as I hate to say it, I don't know if I can be that help anymore."

"Can't we just try?"

"Try what?"

"Just... hear me out. We can continue the sessions as if nothing happened, and if everything is fine, then great, but if not, then you can go."

Is that what it would take for him to be okay with her leaving? Is that what it would take to make her departure less of a complete upheaval? There was no way this would work, she thought. But what were the lengths to which she would go to make the transition smoother? Was she willing to make sacrifices to help ease his hardships? She reflected for a minute.

For him, she would. For him, she considered, she'd do most anything.

"Okay," she said after brief contemplation. "We can try. But you have to keep in mind, the entire time, that I still might have to leave in the end."

He smiled, sincerity almost suffocating her. "Thank you."

"Promise me you won't be disappointed if I end up having to leave."

"You want a pinky, blood oath, or spit shake?" he asked, jokingly.

"Bucky," Y/N deadpanned.

"Well, it's not like we need to promise, because you won't have to leave... 'cause everything will be fine."

God, she hoped so.

"Promise me anyway. Just in case."

"Fine. I promise. You have my word."

She held out her hand to him, pinky finger raised high.

"Make it official."

"You know I was kidding?" he asked.

"I know. But you brought it up, so now you're payin' the price," she smiled, feeling herself momentarily slipping back into their dynamic. "Officially promise me with your pinky, James."

In acquiescence, he lifted his hand up to hers, pinky extended, and wrapped their fingers together. As it turned out, her hand had desires of its own and begged for additional contact. It yearned to smooth over the skin of Bucky's hand and press their palms together. Her hand wanted to intertwine the rest of their fingers and hold on ever so tightly. It wanted to hold on and never leave Wakanda, never leave his side.

As it also turned out, the hand is not the mind. These were surely not Y/N thoughts. Definitely not... Desires were kept repressed and no actions were taken. Sorry hand.

Their fingers stayed connected for just a few brief seconds of silence. Not nearly long enough for it to be awkward or for them to get second thoughts about the integrity of their agreement. Their fingers disconnected.

"So..." Bucky started, "are things gonna be weird now? With us?"

"They don't have to be, but I guess it depends."

"On what?"

"I don't know. Whether you're upset with me over what happened - which you have every right to be."

"Upset with you? No! Not at all. It seems like you're more upset than I ever was."

"I'm only upset because of what I did!"

"Well, I'm only upset because you're upset, so... stop being upset."

"I-..." she sighed. "Okay. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too. Are we good?"

"You don't have anything to be sorry for..."

"Just say we're good."

She let out a nervous laugh.

"Fine, we're good. I'm just surprised at how you're so cool with this."

"Well, friends bounce back quick, right?"

Her demeanor changed. The mood sunk.

"Bucky..."

"No, no. Don't sit there and tell me that now we aren't friends. You just pinky swore with me," he said with a meek smile, attempting to lift her mood back up. "C'mon, that counts for something."

She looked down at her hands, suddenly missing the skin-to-skin contact. "I just think it might be better to be more professional and less... personal."

"Better for who exactly? 'Cause I know it wouldn't be for me."

She turned her head to look at him, face earnest and contrite. He only looked confused and a little mentally disheveled.

"I want to make this new... plan thing work. If you don't want me to have to leave, we have to reinstate some sort of boundaries, Buck."

"So boundaries means throwing away being friends?"

"I'm not throwing it away. I want to make sure we can be successful, and to be successful we have to be a little more..." she took a breath in, hating how much she kept bringing up this word, "professional. We gotta have more good days than bad, you know?"

A few beats of silence passed them by. Bucky's expression softened to a dangerous level of sincerity.

"I think you are my good days..."

Y/N tore her gaze away. She couldn't do this. She wished he wouldn't say such gentle things; she was trying so hard. The tension in her heart began to frustrate her. And it was because of him. She wished her emotions weren't always so escalated in his proximity.

"How long were you outside for?" she changed the subject.

"All night."

"What?!"

"Just kidding. Only for a couple minutes. Why are you changing the subject?"

"I'm not."

"You really are. And you're uneasy."

Trying to deny feelings was harder when someone else called them out.

"Stop trying to analyze me."

"M'not analyzing. I'm just reading you."

Reading her?

"Reading me?"

"Yeah. You were looking at me, but now you turned away. You're bouncing your leg but otherwise you're completely still, tense, like you are when you're nervous. You're also turned away from me... kinda like you don't wanna be near me."

Yeah, because her heart felt like it was going to burst.

She stood up, walking away from him and his infuriating correctness. How dare he know her like that? Anger bubbled in her stomach. She faced him, arms crossed over her chest, as if shielding herself from his prying efforts to understand her personality. How dare he decipher her.

"Really?" she huffed, amped up nervousness morphing into irritation. "You barely slept last night, and it's not just noticeable because of the bags under your eyes. You do this thing when you're tired - you blink really slowly and then rub your eyes. It's subtle. How's that for reading? Oh, and you're more uncomfortable about having one arm than you let on. When you sit next to me, you always make sure to sit so that your arm is on my side. In fact, you're so bad at tolerating uncomfortable that you refuse to even think about getting a new therapist - even though it's the right thing to do - because you don't want to deal with the change."

She took a breath after expelling her vexation. Bucky stared at her with wide eyes, never before hearing her angry, much less at him.

"That's not why..." he all but whispered.

"You know I can tell when you're lying, right?"

"Apparently not," he rolled his eyes. "And I thought we made a deal."

"I think you should leave."

He looked up at her. "Y/N.."

She turned away from him, deciding she couldn't handle looking him in the eyes.

Glancing at the door, she muttered, "I'll see you at our next session."

"But— I thought..."

"A deal's a deal. I'll see you, Bucky."

The room was eerily silent until Bucky decided to move. She could feel his eyes on her, searching for something, anything out of her. Perhaps she was hasty, but there was no room for second thoughts, second emotions. She completely steeled herself. Feeling around him was just... a lot. A lot to deal with. Maybe too much.

"Okay," he said, voice quiet. "I'll see you... I guess."

With that, he left. He left her in an empty room with empty feelings and an empty hand. She looked down at that hand, the very same one that wrapped its finger around his in the lighthearted simplicity of a juvenile gesture. Joy with Bucky was like that - simple. Being happy was effortless with him. Yet, it was so troublesome to be displeased with him. She could sense another distressed night sleep coming her way.

delicate taglist: @bakugouswh0r3 @thefridgeismybestie @strivingforelegance @ilovespideyyy @xpurpleglitter @bluelakeee @darkacademic2 @nickkie1129 @eclipsedplanet @paradisedixon @crazy-beautiful @coffee--writes @lauxrens @lilithknight1111 @buckybarnesishot310 @softladyhours @alwayssandy @quxxnxfhxll @those-sea-green-eyes @hero-ically @devilswaldorf @cc13723things @buckys1thiccbih @maravderofthephoenix

[princesscrownprince]

With an important date approaching, Irina's father was fretting that he couldn't find time to go find a suitable gift for his wife. But he quickly found an easy solution to that problem.

Irina.

Without further ado, Arnold got up from his seat to leave his office and look for the eldest daughter, who used to take care of the family's dirty work for him. "Irina, I'm going to have to ask you a favor." He let go directly looking at the blonde with some strands that look like threads of pure gold. Obviously, Irina already knew her father very well and knew very well that when he asked for something, it really was an order that couldn't be refused. Heaving a heavy sigh, she gestured with her eyes for him to tell her what he wanted. "You're going to have to travel to the Makai for me to find a nice present for your mother. It's soon our anniversary but I'm very busy with work." He paused and then continued explaining. "Don't worry about the possible danger, we are already acquainted and I doubt that someone will want to attack you. In part, after all you have served and established ties with a royal of the Adler clan, have you? Go ask her for an invite so you can gain access to her territory, and go out of your way to find something your mother likes. Don't disappoint me." Saying that, Arnold finished before disappearing from Irina's room.

"Fuckin' shitty old man.... I hope your back hurts for 3 months." Irina thought wearily as she got up from her bed. It was her day off and she wanted to rest, but at least she hoped it would be worth the visit since it was the first time she had visited the Makai.

She assumed from Zaliki's way of dressing that it would be quite hot in that place, so to prevent herself from fainting, Irina prepared herself with a light summer outfit, a well-done hairstyle in a braided bun, and grabbed her bag to net inside it. moisturizing and refreshing creams. She slipped on her platform sandals and left the Avenel Manor to find Zaliki's campervan.

Once found, she knocked three times on the door to wait patiently for it to open. The blonde heard some other sudden movement inside so she assumed that the eagle was inside.

Once the door was opened. Irina smiled softly closing her eyes to wave her hand. "Good morning Zaliki, I'm sorry to arrive so unexpectedly, I hope not to disturb... I wanted to ask you if... you could take me on a visit to your kingdom, I need to find a good gift for my mother at the request of my father. Sure, if you can and want to."

Listening to the sound of punk rock genre, Zaliki nodded her head to the beat whilst looking through a magazine of the Jewelry Artist. A glass of wine next to her.

Her companion, or more so, her personal servant, Asra, sat on the floor of Zaliki's bed. Their legs were crossed with a book on their lap and a cup of black tea next to them. It was a peaceful morning for the two before Zaliki decides to ransack an alcohol store for her own entertainment.

Just the mere thought of it made Asra smile a little. They always enjoyed seeing Zaliki having fun without a care in the world, even if it was unbecoming of a Royal, Asra's highest priority is Zaliki's happiness. They wouldn't mind being her sidekick or her partner in crime if it would make Zaliki smile.

Then... something unexpected happen.

A knock was heard on their campervan door. Zaliki and Asra glanced at each other before the latter walked over to check behind a peephole. They soon signaled it was no other than Irina Avenel. Receiving this information, Zaliki quickly scrambled out of her bed. She chucked her headphones away and snatched a black silk robe to cover her half-naked body.

Asra moved to the side as Zaliki opened the door of her campervan, a large grin forming on her face as she greeted Irina with enthusiasm and a loud voice.

"OWL WHORE!" She greeted, pulling Irina into a quick tight hug, " THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE? NEED SOMETHING? "

Hearing the Owl's favor, Zaliki's smile slowly fell from her face. Not that she wasn't looking forward to go back home, it was more so, this was business talk and figured she needed to be serious about this.

Leaning against the frame of her door with a cross of her arms, she nodded. "Yeah, sure. I can take you there. A gift, huh? I guess it's only favorable you get the best gift from my clan. " they wore proud smirk, " Just give me a moment to change, and we'll head over there. Hagiel will scold my ass if I turn up there inappropriately, and I'm not looking for a lecture the moment I get home. "

Closing her campervan door, Asra quickly helped Zaliki in a dress. It was white, sleeveless dress with a plunge neckline that exposed middle of her chest. It was held up with a golden band around her neck and the dress fell all the way down her ankles, yet it had two slits on either side. Her shoes were golden, knee-high, gladiator heels with chains. To top off her entire outfit, she wore hoop earrings, golden armbands and several golden rings with real gemstones. It was a huge difference from Zaliki's usual black and short dresses. This time, she actually looked like a princess.

Reopening the door of her campervan, Zaliki grinned at Irina and gestured her to enter with a jerk of her head.

"Get in. We're going for a long ride. "

Once settled in, Asra took the driver's seat clad in a white formal suit. A stark contrast to Zaliki's more traditional-looking outfit.

Taking a quick glance at Asra, Zaliki whispered to Irina with a short chuckle.

"They wear whatever they want. "

Despite their status as a ghoul and a servant, Asra was given special exceptions with the help of Zaliki and her authority, for Asra was not just a servant to her, Asra was like her sibling; a bestfriend.

The campervan soon roared to life and drove towards a golden pub. A sign named, Ⲛ̄ⲡⲛⲟⲩⲃ ⲉⲓⲉⲣⲟ ( Golden River ), sat upon it.

"We're here." Zaliki hopped out with a the help of Asra, who also gestured a hand to help Irina out of the campervan.

The trio soon entered the place and the bartender managing the pub quickly took notice or Zaliki's appearance and grinned.

"Miss Regular!" He greeted joyfully, "Do you want the usual? " he narrowed his golden eyes.

Zaliki returned his grin, "That's right! Three glasses of Ϩⲉⲙⲕⲓ and a shot of Ⲏⲉⲓ Hagiel. "

" Granted. You can wait for it in the back. " He jerked his head towards a door.

Zaliki nodded at her companions, " Let's go. "

They soon entered the back of the pub and into a black, sleek door with gold engravings. Behind it, was another pub, but the air around the place was incredibly different.

Stepping out, they were greeted with a sight.

Golden eyes stared back at them; wide and observing. Women and men clad in light clothing and jewelry, and the distant sounds of screeching and cheers could be heard. The air was warm, and scent of rich alcohol was everywhere.

They have arrived at Makai.

Specifically, the Eagle Clan.

And soon enough, these men and women got down on their knees and lowered their heads. Eyes slightly piercing through Irina's form, almost in a threatening way but did no action to raise conflict, for they were in the presence of someone large and imposing. Her prideful smile and tall stature towered amongst the present Adlers, spreading an air of dominance and authority. Despite her distasteful reputation, Zaliki was not an Adler to be messed with.

"Her Royal Highness, Princess Zaliki has returned!"