#honestly the text is random i was just filling space

[zeeckz]

[kaisacobra]

I See You - Tara Carpenter

Part 2 of I Dare You

Summary: At one of Amber's infamous parties, Tara's feelings get more and more complicated as she starts getting to know you.

Warnings: Fem!Painter!Reader, slow burn, mentions of sex, alcohol and partying, minor angst, non canon/high school

w.c: 6.9k

So, the glitch in the matrix seemed to be lasting much longer than you anticipated.

You did your best to forget the interaction you'd had with Tara and, honestly, that hadn't been such a difficult task. You still had a life, after all, and the rest of your day was divided into making preparations for the volunteering you'd be doing at the hospital during the weekend, studying and trying to make any progress on your painting.

Unfortunately, the last task proved itself to be annoyingly impossible, no matter how hard you tried. You'd tried everything from throwing random brushstrokes at the canvas to staring at the blank space while upside down in your bed, which filled your brain with blood but not with ideas.

There came a point when you had to admit defeat, at least for a day, and you picked up your phone to try to distract yourself from what seemed to be your greatest artistic failure. Your plans were to doomscroll through all possible social media and try to get the slightest bit of inspiration, but your attention was grabbed by a text notification coming from your Instagram.

From the username, it was clear that the text had been from none other than Tara Carpenter, which made your heart race a little in response. Your profile was a bit hard to find because there were no photos of you, which meant that Tara specifically had to look for you for a while. What's more, your profile was basically an exhibition of your artwork and the idea of someone other than your friends and teacher looking at all your projects made you a little anxious.

The texts themselves contained nothing much, apart from Tara apologizing for taking your pen (which you didn't even remember lending, to be honest) and then trying to strike up a conversation by asking you about Freddy vs Leatherface. Even so, noticing that she'd made an effort to keep on talking to you left you swooning.

You answered, of course. It would be rude to leave someone on read, wouldn't it? And besides, you were already planning to procrastinate anyway, so why not be nice and talk to Tara for a few minutes?

Who cares if minutes became hours, right?

And when school started the next day, you felt lighter, somehow. To your relief, no one seemed to remember your disastrous stumble the day before (probably because few people remembered you in general) and so you didn't have to deal with any giggles or weird looks.

You were in the middle of getting some books out of your locker when a familiar pen levitated into your field of vision. Your gaze followed the tanned arm that was holding it and you were met with long eyelashes and a sly smile.

“I'm a woman of my word! Here's your pen.” Tara raised the object towards you, making a funny reference to the text she had sent you the day before.

You rolled your eyes in amusement, although you couldn't hold the expression for long due to the corners of your lips lifting involuntarily. You took the small item from her hand and quickly put it in your bag. “Thanks, it's good to know you're not a thief. Did you at least bring one pen today?”

She understood the light, false accusatory tone in your voice and raised her hand, showing two fingers raised in a V. “Haha. Just so you know, I brought two today.”

It was amazing how instantaneous and right that conversation felt, almost as if it was the kind of thing you did all the time and not for the first time. Talking to Tara was surprisingly easy and you could see at least a friendship blooming between you in the near future.

If it weren't for the fact that she hangs out with the most insufferable people in the world, of course.

The reminder of Tara's group of friends hit you like a thunderbolt and made your chest ache for some reason. The words of both Ethan and Mindy echoed in your head, warning you to be careful, but a large chunk of your mind also insisted on reminding you of Anika's more positive opinion on the topic.

You turned to your locker again, pretending you were looking for something that didn't even exist. “I could never manage with just one pen.” You added politely, not wanting to leave Tara's joke unanswered just because your thoughts were getting muddled.

“I know. Artist and all, aren't you?” The girl nodded and you could see out of the corner of your eye as she leaned on the locker next to you, crossing her arms while still looking at you with a thoughtful expression. “Hey, don't you feel like going to a party tonight?”

Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as you processed what she had said, but Tara remained completely unbothered by your side. As far as you knew, the Carpenter girl didn't usually throw parties, but Amber Freeman did, and she'd instituted a very specific rule about them ever since she'd thrown the first one during your freshman year:

Invite only. No losers allowed.

And, as far as you knew, in Amber's opinion you were included in the word “losers”.

“I don't think so.” You shook your head. “Amber's throwing this party, isn't she? I don't have an invitation and I don't even like parties that much.”

Tara laughed out loud at that, causing a few heads to turn in your direction and your cheeks to heat up like coals. “I'm inviting you, ain't I? and seriously! I've never even seen you at the boring school parties, how are you supposed to know if you like parties or not without ever having tried them?”

Okay, you weren't expecting Tara to rebut your arguments or be so insistent about your presence. Was it getting warmer or was it just your impression? “But... I don't even know anyone who's going, I'll probably just stand in the corner the whole night. And also, I have an appointment the next day, I can't, like, go wild...”

Unexpectedly, Tara let out an even louder laugh, this time even wiping away a tear that ran down her cheek. “Go wild? You're hilarious.” She controlled her breathing, still keeping a bright smile on her face. “You don't have to drink if you don't want to, no one's going to force you. And about the being alone part, you can invite those friends of yours. Amber won't mind, she wants more people at her parties anyway and she refuses to call sophomores and below.”

You looked at her with surprise and suspicion. Invite your friends? Did Tara remember that your friends included Mindy Meeks-Martin? Like, basically Amber's number one enemy, Mindy Meeks-Martin?

Tara finally noticed your wary expression and sighed, uncrossing her arms and raising both hands in a peaceful gesture. “Look, Amber said I could invite nice people and I think you're nice. She'll be busy with other things anyway, she probably won't even notice that your friends are there.”

You bit your lower lip, considering your options. On the one hand, parties weren't exactly your natural habitat and you still had your doubts about whether or not you were welcome there. On the other hand, Tara had been so kind to you lately and... for some reason, you wanted to explore it a little further.

“Can I give you an answer later? I'll ask my friends if they're going.” That's what you decided to answer, choosing to leave your conflicting future in the hands of your dear companions.

Tara nodded a yes and complemented the action with a shrug. “Okay. But even if they decide not to go, I think you should give it a chance.”

Suddenly, the bell for the first period echoed in the corridors, waking you both up to the fact that you had to be in your classrooms in a few seconds. As lockers closed and teenagers ran to avoid being late, Tara lazily turned around and started walking away, ending your interaction.

But you didn't want it to end so soon. In a impulsive act, you raised your voice. “What should I wear?”

Tara turned as soon as she heard you and her eyes slowly traveled up and down your body as a smile worthy of the Cheshire cat broke out on her face. “Wear something pretty! But I think you were already going to do that anyway.”

System crash. Your brain shortcutted. Did Tara had just...? No, she couldn't have possibly... checked you out? Were you seeing things?

As Tara's back got further and further down the corridor, you ran back to your classroom, muttering on the way, “God, I'm really not your strongest soldier.”

_

“I need to ask you something.”

You were extremely nervous. Your fingers kept drumming on the table and your brain was desperately trying to think of a way to convince your friends to A) go to Amber's party with you and B) not think you were out of your mind.

Tara's words (and her actions, by the way) really made you consider that crazy possibility. On any other occasion, you would have denied it as quickly as possible and then run away, but you were finding that Tara Carpenter could be extremely convincing.

Mindy swallowed a piece of the sandwich she was holding, making a dismissive gesture with her hands. “I’ve told you before, we have no interest in a throuple.”

Sitting next to her with her feet propped up on her girlfriend's lap, Anika raised an eyebrow and smiled playfully. “Who says we don't?”

“What?!” Both Mindy and Ethan shouted, although the girl clearly got the joke and was just going along with it, while the boy seemed really bothered by the idea. You and Anika let out a loud chuckle and you smiled at her in appreciation, knowing that she had joked around just to make you less nervous.

With the mood more relaxed, you took a deep breath and said the words in rapid fire, fearing that they would never come out if you lingered too long. “Tara invited me to Amber's party and she said I could invite you guys. Would you go with me? Please?”

“Absolutely not.” Mindy quickly denied your request, putting on an angry expression. “And why would you want to go to a party like that, anyway?”

“That's right, only assholes go to that kind of thing.” Ethan agreed with the girl, looking equally annoyed by your suggestion.

Your eyes turned to Anika in a plea for help and she nodded almost imperceptibly. Opening her famous warm smile that reached her eyes, she grabbed Mindy's arm and pouted. “Pleeeeeeeeeeeease, I've always wanted to go to a party like this. We can just go and laugh at people being dumb.”

“We can laugh at people being dumb at school literally all the time, I don't need to be at Amber Freeman's house for that.” Mindy objects, but it's obvious that she's already starting to give in to her girlfriend's charms by the way her face looks more peaceful.

Anika looked in your direction and you understood that you would have to stay in that ping pong game of arguments until the other two gave in. “Amber won't even notice we were there! Tara said there would be too many people for her to handle.”

“Aaaand,” Anika added, moving even closer to Mindy, almost sitting on her lap on that narrow wooden bench. “Our theme for the A.V club project is literally young and reckless! What's more young and reckless than Amber's parties?! We'll get some great material if we go!”

Mindy considered the proposal for long seconds that left you on the edge of your seat. You knew Ethan would probably go if you all did, so it was really all in the Meeks-Martin girl's hands.

Finally, she sighed and rolled her eyes, slipping an arm around her girlfriend's shoulders. “Okay, I'll go. But I’m warning you, if Amber even looks in my direction, I won't answer for myself.”

Anika squealed, grabbing Mindy's face and pulling her close to kiss her cheek, which clearly got the girl flustered even though she only replied with an “alright, alright”. You smiled at this, feeling a mixture of amusement and relief at knowing that your friends had agreed to embark with you on this madness.

Ethan hadn't necessarily agreed yet, but when you looked in his direction, he sighed dramatically, so that his brown curls moved with the wind. “If you're both going, I think I'll go to keep y/n company. So she won't be a third wheel and won't be bothered by idiots, you know?”

You thanked the boy with a pat on the shoulder and his smile automatically widened. Across the table, Mindy laughed. “Oh, I don't think you have to worry about y/n getting third wheeled, Ethan. Tara invited her, did you forget?”

“Holy shit. I have to tell Tara.” You remembered your conversation with the girl earlier, rushing into her DMs and completely ignoring the jokes and teasing from the girls in front of you.

You just hoped they could also ignore your completely flustered behavior.

 _

We're going!

A simple message had made Tara's day a thousand times better. She'd forgotten how insufferable Amber could be on party days, as well as the fact that Liv had spent the whole day acting like a pick-me-girl because Chad had been spending much more time on his phone than with her lately.

She'd put her best Casanova act into play when she'd spoken to you earlier, but somehow your sense of humor made her break character and just act like herself, which was something she couldn't remember doing so freely in a long time.

Of course she had appealed for a bit of her charm at the end, but she just couldn't hold back when you had opened up such a perfect opening for her to flirt.

“You should really thank me, you know that?” A familiar voice whispered close to her ear and soon pale arms wrapped around her neck in a grip that bordered on uncomfortable. “I basically handed you your challenge on a platter by letting you invite those weirdos.”

Tara was annoyed by the comment and she quickly disentangled herself from the hug, bumping into Amber and her devilish expression. The shorter girl huffed, fixing her clothes and hair as if that was the real reason she had walked away.

At least this time she didn't turn red. That was progress.

“Shut up. If anything happens, it'll be my merit.” Tara slung her bag over her shoulder, walking along with Amber and the other students to the exit after another tiring Friday of classes.

The taller girl didn't even mind Tara's protests, shaking her head as if she didn't believe the freckled girl’s words. “Anyway, at least you'll be busy while I'm doing someone and won't be bothering me the next day.”

They walked out the door and fortunately Tara could already see Sam's car parked not far away. The girl turned her face in the opposite direction of her friend’s, pretending it was due to the sun and hoping Amber hadn't seen the pained expression on her face. “Whatever. See you later, Freeman.”

“See you later, Carpenter!” Amber shouted back, but Tara didn't turn around to wave goodbye and kept her head down until she reached the old sedan her mother used to drive. At least that was until she was no longer sober enough to hold a steering wheel.

Inside the car, Sam raised her head when she heard the door open and close after Tara got into the passenger seat. She started to back out of the parking lot, occasionally glancing at her younger sister who seemed to be upset beside her. “So... how was school?”

“Don't fucking start.” Tara muttered, putting on her headphones in a quick move to isolate herself from the world and from an older sister who suddenly wanted to be there for her after abandoning her alone with an alcoholic for a year.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head on the window, trying not to think about how Amber really got on her nerves sometimes, or think about the guilt that was starting to rise up inside her after being rude to Sam for nothing. Why couldn't her mind stop working for just one minute?

But as she tried to make her own thoughts go blank, a pleasant memory surfaced. Tara remembered your conversation earlier, the way you could understand each other's moods and how genuinely happy she was that you were going to the party for her.

Maybe, if she just kissed you and hid the real reason behind everything, you could even be friends after all. Maybe she could even convince Amber that you were a nice person, so that you could hang out with them.

Of course, these were only wishful thinking, but Tara wanted peace and, at the moment, the utopian idea of having you around gave her that exact feeling. 

_

“Okay, now give me a spin.”

You turned in your place at Anika's request, being mindful to not to get out of the sight of your phone camera, which was leaning awkwardly on your desk. Your room was a mess of clothes scattered all over the place, highlighting your intense search to decide on the perfect outfit to wear for the party.

“So?” You asked your friend, who had her attention split between the video call and her own elaborate makeup.

Anika seemed to finish her analysis on your look while you were about to start trembling with anxiety. You trusted the girl's fashion sense more than anything and you swore you could have started crying if she said that your outfit wasn't good. Fortunately, her response was a positive nod and a satisfied grin. “Oh, you look so cute!”

You looked down, once again staring at the outfit you had chosen, which was a comfortable one, but neat enough to let people know that you had put some effort into dressing up.

Receiving compliments had never exactly been your strong suit, but as much as you felt awkward about Anika's comment, you couldn't get Tara's recommendation out of your head. “Yeah, but do I look pretty?”

“Of course you do! Cute, pretty, it's all the same!”

You frowned, still feeling annoyed. Fashion had never exactly been your forte and that fact was your Achilles heel at the moment, since you still weren't convinced that “cute” and “pretty” were the same thing. In your opinion, Tara seemed to be the type who liked pretty girls, but not cute girls.

Or maybe it didn't make any sense at all and you were just going crazy at the thought of spending the next few hours in a house full of people you either didn't know or didn't like. Besides, when did you start caring about the kind of girl Tara liked?

“I can hear your thoughts from here, you know?” Anika called out, making your head snap out of that internal cycle of overthinking. “Is this all to impress Tara?”

“Ugh.” You grunted, flopping onto your bed oblivious to the dozens of clothes that were crumpling under your body. “No? Maybe? I don't know.”

You felt ashamed of the situation, even though you knew Anika wasn't the judgmental type. Your feelings were still confusing and you definitely didn't feel ready to admit that you thought about Tara more than you should, but there was also no way to hide something that was so obvious.

“Hey, it's okay, you know? Actually, I'm glad to see you're interested in someone.” Anika replied kindly, which made you work up the courage to sit up, staring at your friend's genuine expression through the screen. “I know you're worried about Mindy and all, but Chad's always nice to me when I go to their house and it was super easy to do some school work with Wes for our calc class.”

She continued, “What I mean is that Tara could still be a nice girl for you, no matter how much there's this Romeo and Juliet thing going on between our groups.”

“It's not that. I mean, it is a bit, but also...” You sighed, trying hard not to run your hands through your hair and make it look messy. “... I don't think she'd be interested in me. I mean, she's been giving me these signals but, I don't know, maybe she does it with everyone?”

Anika tsked, shaking her head and giving you a playful smile. “I've never heard of Tara being a player.”

You groaned again, turning your face away as if the act would somehow stop you from feeling so flustered. Anika laughed in response. “Just enjoy the moment! You already know she's the straight forward type, don't you? If she wants something from you, I'm sure she'll get it.”

“Anika!” You shrieked, appalled by what she was inferring. Your entire face seemed to be engulfed in lava as your friend laughed even louder at the clear shock you expressed.

“What?! The world needs more people like that, you know? That's why I'm going to take the initiative to run away to a corner with Mindy at the first opportunity and-.”

“Ew! No! Stop talking! Please, you're my mother figures!”

_

The walls of the house seemed to shake under Tara's fingers as she leaned on it, making her way to the bathroom in slow, crooked steps as she cursed quietly at the amount of people crowding into the hallway.

They were screaming with joy, slurring the lyrics of the extremely loud song that was playing on the huge speakers in the living room, echoing throughout the house and possibly the entire block. Thank God, Wes had already taken care of his mother.

Tara groaned the whole way, feeling like pushing away all the sweaty, alcohol-altered people who bumped into her shoulder, unable to see properly through the colored lights that made the place look like a nightclub. She sighed in relief when she finally found the bathroom, opening the door and locking herself inside without caring about the noise it made.

She turned on the lights and leaned on the sink with both hands, leaning over to look at her reflection in the mirror, with tired eyes and her bangs sticking to her forehead from sweat. God, how could she have been so shaken up by a measly hour of partying? She used to be able to take a lot more.

But she also knew exactly what had led up to it and the smell of alcohol on her lips wouldn't let her lie. She thought she was going to have more fun, but her evening became much more difficult after she saw Amber stick her tongue down the throats of at least three people right in front of her, making a point of giving Tara a thumbs-up afterwards, almost as if she was trying to annoy her friend on purpose.

Tara tried everything to make herself less bothered. She'd danced, she'd watched some people play 7 minutes in heaven, she'd even flirted with a few people just for fun, but in the end, what had stopped her blood from pounding furiously in her ears had been the beers stocked in Amber's basement fridge.

She stopped after the third one, after she felt tipsy enough. She didn't want to be her mother's daughter, who didn't know her own limits and fell asleep on the living room carpet because she didn't have the strength to walk to her own room. And the drinks helped for a while, but now that the sweat had evaporated the effect of the alcohol on herself, her headache left her one scream or punch away from going insane.

Tara splashed water on her face, oblivious to the fact that her makeup was getting smudged or her bangs got even wetter. At this point, she no longer cared about much other than surviving the rest of the night.

Once she had pulled herself together, she sighed and left the bathroom, expecting to be dragged into the living room by the crowd of teenagers dancing and jumping around like wild animals, but instead she ended up being bumped in the opposite direction, almost knocking her off balance.

“Oh my God, I'm sorry!” Gentle hands rushed to hold Tara up before she fell and she followed the length of the arms with her eyes until she bumped into a familiar face. It was you, who was now staring at Tara with a frown. The girl couldn't help herself and looked you up and down, mentally appreciating the way you were dressed.

You quickly took your hands off Tara's shoulders, rubbing them anxiously. The girl felt a tug in her chest as she remembered that she had invited you and you most likely should have spent all this time looking for her, while she was drinking and whining about not having the attention of the biggest bitch in Woodsboro. Drunk and abandoning people? Wow, the Carpenter women's genes never fail.

“I didn't realize you'd already arrived.” Tara broke the awkward silence, mentally thanking you for being upstairs and being able to talk without having to shout over the hip hop track playing in the living room.

You looked away, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Yeah. It's been a while.”

Tara nodded, feeling a little disappointed in herself as she realized that you had clearly been annoyed by her absence. She tried to strike up a conversation again, wishing she could somehow put a smile on your face. “What brings you upstairs? Not enjoying the energy of the party?”

“I was looking for the bathroom.” You sighed, hugging your elbows. “Actually, I was more looking to escape to the bathroom, because I was planning to hide there until my friends decided to leave.”

“You really don’t like parties, huh?” Tara joked, but the smile on her face hardened when she realized that you hadn't laughed along with her.

Tara felt terrible. Sure, you'd only had a few interactions before, but all of them had proved that you could understand each other easily. Now, Tara didn't know if it was the party, if it was her or something else that had made you look so uncomfortable, but she was determined to make it up to you for being an idiot.

“You know, I think I have a better hiding place than a small bathroom.” She leaned towards you, as if she was sharing a secret. “Are you interested?”

You scrutinized the girl's face and she couldn't help but be disappointed that you didn't even seem to be affected by your proximity as you usually would. Your arms were crossed as you felt suspicious of her offer. “Don't you have to go back to the party?”

Tara made a dismissive gesture with her hand and started walking down the large hallway, looking for a specific room. “Nah, I've been to so many of these that it's lost it’s spark to me.”

Technically, it wasn't a lie. Tara was sick of that party and she'd love to have a distraction from the fact that Amber was now probably at her body count number 100 and Tara wasn't talking about dead people. But then again, she felt strangely committed to making you have at least a little fun and she really liked your company.

Maybe it was just because she felt bad for having invited you in the first place. Yeah, that must be it.

She opened Amber's bedroom door, barging in without hesitation and heading straight for the window, opening it all the way. Behind her, you seemed slightly alarmed by the idea of simply invading the personal space of a girl who could make your life a living hell. “Uh…”

But before you could really protest, Tara put one leg out of the window, glancing in your direction with a playful smile. “Trust me. You’re not scared, are you?”

“I’m not scared, but trusting you? After you invited me to a party you’re trying to escape?” you replied, making Tara's smile widen as she realized you were starting to open up again. “And what are you doing at the window, Rapunzel?”

Tara chuckled, pointing your way. “Wait and see.”

In a swift motion, she raised her hands to the roof platform above her head, pushing off Amber's window with her feet to gain enough momentum to pull herself up with extra effort from her arms. Still holding onto the edge, Tara hung upside down, looking at you through the window with her bangs sticking up. “So, are you coming or not?”

You snorted lightly with the sight, shaking your head as you approached the window. “I’m no Spider-Man. If I fall from here, it’ll be your fault, and I hope they write it down as homicide.”

“Good to know you have so much faith in me.” Tara answered, kneeling on the roof tiles and extending her hand for you to grab. You hesitated for a few seconds, and honestly, Tara couldn’t blame you for it, but she kept looking at you expectantly, trying to communicate with her eyes. Let me make things right with you.

She almost sighed in relief when you finally grabbed her forearm, letting her help you up slowly, pretending not to notice how her hands ended up on your hips. All in the name of making your night a little less boring, of course.

But wow, your body felt... warm.

It didn’t take long for you to pull away from Tara, clearing your throat and sitting on the roof beside her. It would be hard to stand for long due to the slope, but the spot was comfortable enough for you to sit or lie down without the risk of rolling off.

The roof was quite high, not tall enough for you to see the entire city, for example, but high enough that the people below you looked like tiny ants. Ants that were dancing, having fun, and throwing cups of beer at each other.

“Do you come here often?” you broke the silence, but Tara saw the exact moment you winced, realizing way too late the double meaning of your words. “I didn’t mean… I wasn’t…”

“It’s all good.” Tara laughed, considering saying something to tease you even more, but she ultimately decided against it , feeling a bit sorry for your embarrassed state. “And no, to answer your question. I used to spend a lot more time up here before, but now…”

She let the sentence trail off, lost in her own thoughts. Maybe the last time she had been on that roof was the day Sam had gone to rehab, two years ago. Which, looking back now, was probably around the same time Amber stopped being a caring friend and started being the friend that thought Tara complained too much.

The two of you remained in a comfortable silence for a few more seconds—or as quiet as it could be with two massive speakers blasting music two floors below. Tara glanced to the side, staring at your face, which seemed more focused on the starry sky, illuminated only by a few beams of moonlight.

Like she had felt in the car earlier, that sight gave her peace. It wasn’t like looking at Amber, which made her feel like her organs were being squeezed and thrown into an erupting volcano. Looking at you made her feel like a sea breeze was brushing against her face, a comforting, peaceful gust of wind.

Tara’s eyes drifted down to your lips, and she had to run her tongue across her own. Amber’s challenge lingered in the back of her mind, and she was tempted to test if your kiss would be a better distraction than the cheap beer she’d grabbed from the basement.

But suddenly, Tara felt self-conscious. Maybe it was the fact that the idea had been Amber’s, and she was still too annoyed with the girl to give her the satisfaction of being right. Maybe it was because she could still taste the alcohol in her mouth and didn’t want you to taste it too.

Or maybe it was something else. Something gentler and softer that even Tara couldn’t quite describe yet.

“Oh, look!” Tara snapped out of her own thoughts when she saw you excitedly pointing at the sky. “You can see Orion so clearly!”

She followed the direction of your hand with her eyes, feeling confused about what exactly she was supposed to be looking at. That particular night was cloudless, which made the vast array of stars shining in the dark sky exceptionally beautiful.

You noticed the lost expression on the girl’s face beside you and chuckled. “Orion? The constellation?”

“Oh, yeah. I… I know.” Tara just nodded, feeling a bit embarrassed for not being sure what you were referring to. She knew what a constellation was, of course, but she had never studied them in much detail, and in her eyes, all she could see in the sky were random stars, beautiful but completely scattered.

You laughed again, not buying Tara’s excuse for a second after seeing how confused her eyes looked. Gently, your hand held hers as you started pointing out the constellation with both of your hands joined together.

“See those three stars close together? That’s what we call Orion’s belt. It’s much easier to spot the rest of the constellation starting from there. Up there, kind of making a triangle, you have Meissa, Betelgeuse, and Bellatrix, and if you look to the side, it kinda looks like he’s holding a bow.”

Tara wanted to pay attention to your explanation, but her brain turned to mush the moment your hands got entangled, and her heart started pounding like the drums in a heavy metal song. You, on the other hand, seemed completely unaware of the action, which made Tara feel even more like an idiot.

Wow, what was in those drinks?

“You really know a lot about this,” she said, trying to sound normal, even though her voice felt like it could crack at any moment. You smiled at the comment, letting go of her hand to play with your fingers in your lap.

“One day, I had this brilliant idea to paint constellations on my bedroom ceiling—or at least most of them—and I had to do a ton of research to make sure it looked right.” You laughed, and Tara realized she wanted to hear that sound more and more.

“It’s cool that you’re a painter. It’s different.” She wanted to keep the conversation going, eager to learn more about any detail you were willing to offer, but she didn’t exactly know what to say. For someone who usually had no trouble expressing herself, Tara seemed to have forgotten her entire vocabulary.

Luckily, you seemed to be in the opposite situation, feeling comfortable enough to keep talking. “I guess so? I’ve never thought much about it before. Painting is a lot more than just a hobby for me—it’s more like a safe haven, you know?”

Tara nodded instead of giving a verbal response, especially because she knew exactly what you were talking about, but she didn’t have the words to express how much she needed a conversation like this—so simple, yet so healing.

She reached into the pocket of her jacket, slowly pulling out her phone. “Can I take a picture of the constellation?” Tara asked, mentally kicking herself when she heard how vulnerable her voice sounded.

Her tone didn’t go unnoticed by you, and you looked at her with a bit of confusion, but soon after, your eyes softened, shining with kindness—almost as bright as the stars above your heads. “You don’t have to ask me to take pictures of the sky, but do you want me to point it out again?”

“Sorry, old habit.” She shook her head to snap out of it, feeling her cheeks heating up as she started opening the camera app and aiming it upward. “But yeah, please.”

Slowly and gently, you took Tara’s hands again, working together with her to make sure the constellation was perfectly centered. You were close enough for Tara to catch the pleasant scent of your perfume, but she forced herself to stay focused on the picture you two were trying to capture.

After a few successful shots of Orion (which Tara planned to edit later to make it more visible and color-corrected), the two of you lay down side by side, admiring the night’s beauty in another moment of shared, comfortable silence.

_

Now, the silence inside Sam’s car wasn’t as comfortable.

It was the first time Tara had asked Sam to pick her up from a party, especially as late as 2 AM, considering the younger Carpenter always used to sleep over at Amber’s once everything wrapped up.

But after you left, Tara completely lost the desire to stay. The music was dull, she had no interest in drinking or playing any games, and she definitely didn’t want to be around her friends anymore.

She sat in a thoughtful silence, her head resting against the window, watching as the asphalt disappeared behind the car doors. The soft hum of the engine served as background noise since Tara didn’t have her precious headphones, but she’d spent enough time around loud music for the night anyway, so her ears were begging for a break.

“Did you… have fun?” Sam asked cautiously, as if Tara were a wounded animal that might lash out at any moment. The younger girl sighed, feeling guilty for being the reason behind the hostile distance between them.

She already felt guilty about enough things. Maybe it was time to start lifting some of that weight off her shoulders.

“I guess I did.” She nodded, watching Sam’s surprised expression at her genuine response. The look made her seem younger, reminding Tara that Sam wasn’t that much older than her. Now that she thought about it, she couldn’t remember seeing Sam so carefree since she’d returned, but her anger hadn’t exactly allowed her to notice the little details. “I had a good time.”

“Good,” Sam replied, trying to hide a satisfied smile from tugging at the corner of her lips. In the passenger seat, Tara did the same, feeling a tiny bit of happiness from the small progress they’d made. Small steps were important.

The car fell silent again, but it felt less heavy, and Tara figured it was because Sam was tired and still had to focus on the road for at least another 10 minutes. Taking advantage of the pause, the younger Carpenter pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket, going straight to her gallery and searching for the pictures she had taken earlier.

Most of them were of the sky, capturing the fateful (and now familiar to Tara) constellation of Orion, which made her think of the feeling of your hands on hers. Two others, however, were a bit more personal for her.

She zoomed in on the photo, staring at the profile of your face bathed in moonlight as you smiled brighter than the stars. She had taken the picture in secret, an impulsive urge to capture not just the moment, but you. Tomorrow, she could blame it on the alcohol, but tonight, she would give herself the privilege of gazing at your carefree expression for a few long seconds.

You had probably spent hours talking on the roof, and yet it still didn’t feel like enough. Tara wanted more. She needed more. Even though she’d never considered herself to be possessive or clingy, she couldn’t help but want to explore every little piece of your world as if it were the most beautiful piece of art.

A sudden thought crossed her mind, and Tara quickly opened Instagram, this time taking her time to scroll through and really appreciate each of your paintings. As she studied the pieces you had displayed, she mentally kicked herself for not having done it sooner. It was clear that you drew inspiration from the Renaissance, and that people were your greatest muse. There were few self-portraits, but Tara recognized some of your friends in the works.

She was so captivated that she felt a strong urge to knock on your door and ask you to tell her the story behind each one, just for the pleasure of hearing your voice. But, well, it was 2 AM, and she didn’t even know where you lived.

And, of course, she wasn’t that crazy.

Still, she decided to slide into your DMs, sending you five of the photos you had taken of the sky, taking the opportunity to wish you a good night. Would sending a heart emoji be too much? She decided against it. The photos would be enough.

But Tara still wasn’t satisfied with her exploration, so she ventured into your stories, looking for anything that could give her more reasons to talk to you. It turned out to be a great decision, because she struck gold.

You had posted an announcement from Woodsboro Central Hospital earlier, calling for volunteers for a special event dedicated to bringing joy to children hospitalized with cancer. The flyer said that any help was welcome, from telling stories to dressing up as superheroes, and Tara couldn’t stop wondering what you had signed up to do.

Without wasting any time, she navigated to the hospital’s profile, hoping they were still accepting applications even though she was texting them literally seven hours before the event.

Hi, I’m interested in volunteering! Would you need a photographer?

[getvalentined]

I love when folks ask me Fandom Old questions and I get to be like "Yeah, uh, that's from my old online RP group, no it's not canon at all, yes we just made it up, no we did not claim it was canon but the mid to late aughts were a strange time."

It's honestly a shock to realize how often this has happened. I mentioned earlier that Reno's fanon surname came from this same group, but that's not even the half of it. I once made a bunch of screenshot manips based on the most ridiculous ships anyone could think of—someone slapped a random line of text onto one of them and to this day it's used as a "cringe FF7 fandom" meme. I saw it on the twits a bit back and almost fell out of my goddamn chair.

If you've ever heard Scarlet referred to with the surname "West," read about Tseng fighting with metal fans, seen Elena's older sister being called Anna instead of Emma, come across Vincent portrayed as having a PhD in spite of being a Turk, or caught references somewhere to Grimoire experimenting on Vincent as a child, that started with this group. That was us.

One of the funniest examples of this, for me specifically, is that we don't actually know which arm Veld is missing? The fandom generally goes with his left because that's how I drew him in the first picture of the guy ever posted on devart way back in 2005, but it may very well be his right. I've seen people offer "proof" that it's his right based on a scene in the opening cutscene, but you can't tell there either, and with BC's graphics there's literally no way to tell on his sprite.

Hell, this year we found out everyone's assumed timeline of the Kalm fire is wrong, and that's our fault too because we made some assumptions about Felicia's age for an LJ RP that were entirely wrong. She's around Zack's age, not Sephiroth's! She's old enough to run with a terrorist group in BC, but she was a child when Kalm burned, and that happened in 1997—we know this because NPCs in Rebirth literally refer to the fire in Kalm having happened "just ten years ago." Veld has only had his prosthetic for three years when BC starts. (This also implies that, contrary to popular belief, Veld may actually be younger than Vincent. Vincent may have been the senior partner, and that's why he was sent to Nibelheim alone while Veld was left at headquarters.)

We were really wrong on this! But we were working with what we had. There's no canon evidence for the vast majority of these things (the most notable exclusion here is Vincent being educated) but we weren't claiming there was. We were filling gaps, and canon was so sparse that we had a lot of gaps to fill. So if it turns out that Veld lost his right arm, then I'll just have to start drawing him that way—because losing his left was never canon.

Tragically, there's nothing any of us can do to make people stop assuming these things are canon at this point; there aren't a lot of us still in the fandom, and it's not like any of us have those old chatlogs anymore. People from this RP group have DIED since those days. It's been over 20 years since most of us met, and around 15 since most of us were in a public fannish space together.

"Prove it," people say, and I literally can't. Do you know how many computers I've been through since then? 75% of the platforms we used no longer exist. This all started on a BBCode forum! There is no proof!

But...there's no evidence any of these things are canon, either, so maybe think about that? The Kalm fire, Tseng's weapon of choice, Veld's arm, character surnames—none of these are retcons because there was no lore there to retcon. We made it up for our specific purposes, and it escaped containment in an era when there was really no way to do online contact tracing.

It's just one of the weirdest feelings in the world to see younger folk arguing about A or B point in canon, about X or Y retcon—referencing something my friends and I thought up at like 10 o'clock at night on a now-defunct IM client in August of 2005, because we needed something to refer back to for a specific scene in an RP and the source material had nothing to offer.

Absolutely fucking bonkers.

[christiansorrell]

TTRPG Read-Through: Traveller - Book 1

Here is a read-through I did about a year and a half ago (originally posted on Twitter) of one of the all time classics: Traveller by Game Designers' Workshop! This read-through just covers Book 1 - Characters and Combat from the original Traveller box set trio of books. - Christian

This is the 1981 Second Edition printing of the classic Traveller three zine box set! Been wanting to read this for ages now. It's discussed A LOT in Mothership circles.

Really interesting to see GM-less and solo play options here. Didn't realize that was being done explicitly at this time. Also, nice to see "he or she" language here rather than the just "he" you see a lot in older games.

The UPP is clearly the creation of an utterly deranged mind. This seems like a huge overcomplication of just listing stats (unless all your players are proficient in hexadecimal).

[Hi, it's me from the future here (aka now - 2024): I've learned to embrace and love the UPP (or more specifically the planet stat version from one of the other books). It's complicated at first but really quick and cool once you know how to read it.]

I really like Social Standing as a stat replacement for charisma or charm or other social skills you tend to see. Feels like it would have more impact on the story and less of a "Roll to see if you convince him, I guess" sort of anticlimax social skills have most of the time.

I'm now into the "you can die during char creation in Traveller" bits. Really cool in some ways. Really comical in others. It recommends you enlist your bad stat characters into the Scout service because of it's high mortality rate (so you can roll a diff char before play), lol.

Essentially, you roll stats and that's your entire character but to give them some experience they can enlist in a Service. You have to roll to get in and may get rejected. If so, you submit to the draft (get into one at random). You can die. You can gain skills and promotions.

Honestly, the char creation feels like a solo game unto itself. Risk v reward of how far to push your enlistments to boost your skills and standing and benefits. You could have a whole story in your head by the end of it. Great Session 0 material.

As a 34 yr old, this hurts. Apparently, I have -1 Strength, Dexterity and Endurance now...

I admire commitment but asking GMs to use this full char creator for all NPCs (which means generating chars until you get one capable of filling the role you need) is truly too wild. Best part: at the end, it just says you can also pick whatever you want for stats and skills.

The weapons and intro text have much more of a space as a new age of sail vibe to them than I was anticipating. It's cool. Far more Dune than Alien (so far).

Interestingly (unless I missed something), skills are detached from your stats. Your base stats make getting into a Service easier and help you with Saving Throws and such, but skills have their own modifiers based on the situation and your expertise. It's cool (if a bit dense)!

In case you were wondering, there is absolutely no art in this entire book. I'm hoping we'll get some in one of the other two books with vehicles and ships and such but won't be holding my breath. Gives the whole thing a very Serious vibe.

Always interesting to see how older games chose to handle this (or not).

Here's the UPP in action along with quick listing of other character info. Interesting even if it is just too overcomplicated for my tastes.

Can't overstate how much char creation feels like a whole solo game of its own. You can roll a character at age 18 and have them go through seven 4-yr terms in a Service before retiring and having substantial cash, specific possessions, memberships and social standings. Wild.

The character sheet mentions PSIONICS which is exciting (but I'll have to wait till Book 3 for more on that apparently).

Combat is straightforward but has some unique bits: a focus on stealth as an option and movement/attacks occur by all parties simultaneously which means everyone (enemies too) gets to move and then everyone chooses who to attack and you roll them all. Sounds really fun.

Stats have cool effects in battle. Your Endurance stat is the number of attacks you can make before needing to rest (can you imagine if DnD just didn't let you do a base attack at a point?). Strength and Dex can boost or lower certain weapon rolls like you'd expect.

If trained in a weapon, you can give your expertise as a negative mod to your enemy's rolls to attack you to reflect parrying and blocking which is cool. The skills also add to your attack rolls. Skills just seem really useful overall here.

I just love that we get stats for broadswords, revolvers, and laser carbines. Plus, there are even special tables for archaic weapons for when encountering lower-tech civilizations. It feels like a really wide open interpretation of what space could look like. Feels exciting.

A few more equipment tables and a final quick reference page at the back and that's all for Book 1. I'll be back with Book 2 and 3 in the coming days!

Main thoughts: Character creation is very involved but really cool - its own game practically. Skills are very deep in a way that feels refreshing when compared to more stat-focused games. Combat has some fun, chaotic twists. Feels like a wide universe of possibility here so far.

I'll add Books 2 and 3 to this thread when I give them their own read-throughs. In the meantime, here's my newsletter (last two months have Mothership freebies): https://meatcastle.substack.com

And here's my website (with links to my games and modules and all that good stuff): https://shop.meatcastlegameware.com/

Thanks for reading!

[ateriblewriter]

Obsession (t.z)

a/n: im really sorry for this. please don’t hate me.

Warnings: mild description of violence and injuries. please read with caution

Part 2

Enjoy!

Everyone liked your boyfriend. Women lusted after him. Men thought he was one of the next greats of the hockey world. Honestly it never bothered you that what people thought of him, he was yours. At the end of the day he was all you needed in life. There were people out that you knew didn’t like you. You read the comments online and every once in a while there would be an off handed comment spewed in your direction when you were out and about. The initial sting of words would hurt, but most of the time you would let insults roll off your shoulders.

That’s why it shocked you when something more physical happened. You never thought a crazed obsessed fan would hunt you down, and follow you around. You didn’t even see the closed fist of the person who stopped you for directions.

Nonetheless that's what happened. Some random person came up and punched you square in the face. The surprise of the impact made you fall to the ground, smacking your head on the ground. You hoped that was it, this person decided to use their foot to find your head and other various parts of your body.

In the blink of an eye it was over, yet it felt like an eternity. Of course the street you were on just happened to be busy at the time. So no one really saw what just happened. You laid there for a minute contemplating what to do next. In time you picked yourself up, and dusted off your clothes.

A massive headache was starting to form, and your face felt like it was going to fall off at any moment. You tenderly touch your forehead, bringing your fingers to your blurring line of vision you saw how red and sticky it was. YOur felt something painfully run, it must be more of that red sticky substance. There seemed to be so much of it. Maybe if you made it home in time you could get it cleaned up and Trevor would never have to know.

“Hey Y/N.” A voice called out as you ran to the bathroom once you got to the apartment. In your hurry to get home you completely forgot about your boyfriend’s roommate, Jamie.

“What the fuck?” Jamie caught a glimpse of you hurried to lock yourself in the  bathroom. He could tell something wasn’t right with you, so he whipped out his phone to message Trevor to get home immediately. “Y/N/N. Please open the door. I can tell you need help. Please let me help. Trevor is already on his way.”

“No.” YOu crocked out. You needed to just get cleaned up and everything would be okay. There was no need for your boyfriend and his teammate to get all worked up over nothing.

“Where is she?” Trevor practically broke down the door to the space they were living in. When Jamie texted him that something was wrong with Y/N and that she needed help, every horrible thought ran through his mind. He needed to get home as soon as he could.

“Hey Y/N, baby girl, please open the door.” He pleaded with you from the outside. You knew this was inevitable. You had to open the door eventually and you did. As you were trying to wash up the red ooze wouldn’t stop flowing. You needed help.

“What happened?” Trevor asked in a soft voice taking a step closer to his girlfriend. He wasn’t really looking for an answer, not yet at least. He just needed to make sure you were okay.

It scared him to no end seeing the open large gash on the side of your head. If that didn’t scare him it was the severely broken nose and bruises forming around your beautiful face.  

Trevor took another small step closer to you. He wanted to assess you for any possible injuries. His head filled with worry and concern. Sadness filled his normally happy features when he noticed you trying to scoot away from him.

“We should get you to the hospital. I think you may need stitches and your nose needs to be reset.” The hockey player urged.

After a little convincing you allow both Trevor and Jamie to take you to the hospital to get patched up. You felt the safest going with both of them. YOur boyfriend was right about the cuts, they were deep enough that they needed stitches and your nose needed a little help. On top of that the doctors wanted to do a couple of scans to check for any internal bleeding as there was an abnormally large red and purple mark on your stomach.

The doctors wouldn’t let either of the two men back with you. So they had to wait and wait. Trevor had too much energy and anxiety to sit still for long, so he paced until your doctors finally approached him. Only the medical professionals were alone.

“Are you Trevor Zegras?” An officer that had approached with the doctor spoke up. Trevor furrowed his brows and nodded “We’d like to talk to you about Y/N. Can you tell us where you were this morning?”

He told them that he had gone to skate and then work out for a little. His training had gotten cut short when Jamie had messaged him about Y/N. Trevor watched the two officers look at each other as if they were having some sort of silent conversation with each other. He could tell right away something was off. They didn’t believe him.

“Mr. Zegras, we need you to come with us.”

Again I’m really sorry about this. I hope you enjoy.

Please let me know what yall think! I’d love to hear your thoughts, comments, complaints.

[youremyheaven]

https://www.tumblr.com/youremyheaven/754471721589997569/httpswwwtumblrcomyouremyheaven75444648981897?source=share

Gonna go find me a Venusian man. Only they can fix me now. Literally the perfect man for me I think would be a Venusian.

Me lmfao 😂🤭

Manifesting a healthy evolved Venusian man for u bbg, YOU DESERVE IT 🥺✨😩🤌🏻

I know I hype Venusian men up a lot etc but I just want to take this opportunity to say that they're not immune to being flawed.

It's just that I have more patience for a Venusian man's flaws than I do for other planetary types. At the end of the day, it's about what you're willing to put up with 👀

An imbalanced and immature Venusian man will be a womanizer, they have a crazy high libido but they don't enjoy sex for its own sake because of their Venusian nature BUT they will keep chasing that high repeatedly and it WILL corrode them from within.

Sex addicted Venusian men who sleep around always look like they're rotting

Venus naks are predominant in the charts of many many notorious sex offenders 😭😭😭💀 (including Harvey Weinstein 🤡)

Venusian men take their "I wanna spoil my woman" thing a little too far sometimes. It can feel like all they want is a pretty little doll to play dress up with and look at. They'll give you everything but it can feel empty if you're not in the right headspace for it.

Venusian men are very masculine men. If you're not comfortable with a guy with a heightened sense of masculinity, they're not the ones for you. They're kind of traditional in the sense that it hurts their pride immensely if they can't be the guy who protects and provides. If you're someone who is very independent, they're NOT the ones for you.

They'll cashapp you money and ask you to go get your nails done and many women will enjoy that kind of treatment but I can also see how many others will feel like they're being talked down to or something 😖

Venusian men fall for women who are feminine, a bit trad yet still freaky (the whole lady in the streets but stripper under the sheets bit was written by a Venusian man for sure) and they expect you to be that way always. This can be exhausting for anyone who isn't naturally inclined to be like that. All they want is for you to be pretty and be submissive enough to make them feel like a man 🫣so if you just run your life by yourself and act like you don't "need" him, you'll end up hurting his feelings.

The key is to never need anything from any man but to make him feel like you do 😈

They really really enjoy showing off their partner like she were a trophy. They take pride in being with their woman. But if you feel uncomfortable being a little bit objectified then Venusian men are not for you 🚫 they very much think of their woman as a status symbol and take immense pride in bagging beautiful women so 😬😬he may speak of you like a conquest at times

If you have a low libido, stay away from Venusian men bc they have to bang all the time 😩😩

Also they can be very cheesy and cringey. Their displays of affection can be very over the top at the most unwarranted of occasions.

I know that sounds like a good thing but bbg it gets tiring after a while cause it can feel performative and it is but Venusians just are performative by nature. They LOVE putting on a show.

If you can't stand a man being lowkey deranged and highly obsessed, texting you 24/7 and remembering every random detail (can feel stalker-y or like your space/privacy is being invaded) then Venus is not the way to go. They'll drool all over you and sing praises to you 24/7 to such an extent that you'll just be like "ok give it a rest king I've had my fill" lmao

If you're insecure about being complimented then a Venus man will be hell bc all they do is compliment their lady. I know some people think others complimenting you is fake etc and are disgusted by it but yeah you'll get the ick from Venus men that way 😬😬

Honestly Venus attracting Venus makes sense bc only a Venusian women could put up with all this and not feel exhausted and even enjoy it. Obviously everyone's a mix of influences and you absolutely can find a Venus man even without being Venusian but you should have a lot of Yin to be naturally receptive to their giving energy

[paranormeow7]

autism machine brain

some random thoughts. disclaimer I am between levels 1-2 and have generally low support needs. please do not take my personal experiences as written to describe the whole community!! if others have similar experiences to me, maybe with different words, feel free to share them. it’d be interesting to hear from people all around the spectrum. but do not take my words and use them to talk over others who are not me.

this is mostly about ideas of what is seen as ableist in the community and how it pertains to how I like to identify and describe myself. there’s a stereotype that is seen as ableist, that (usually low support needs) autistic people are like robots. honestly, I feel like one, and it comforts me to identify with them, as I feel like my brain operates and processes language/actions etc like one. specifically, a slow, old family computer.

I call myself slow, which may be seen as ableist language, because I am slow. Maybe due to catatonia (I think that’s the right word?) and like. cognitive stuff? like how it’s kind of hard to like. comprehend and process things unless they are perfectly laid out for me. it is not unlike writing lines of code. if the line of code is not written perfectly into my brain engine, I will freeze up and be unable to complete the action properly. Ive gotten better about this as I’ve gotten older, but I still usually need to be told the exact details of how to do a lot of complicated things, like schoolwork, especially math.

there are just simply too many steps and possibilities. I get overwhelmed and don’t know where to start, as there is too much room for error. even as I try to fill in the blanks and infer what I am meant to do based on what I know, it is simply too much of a risk to attempt something I understand so little. my brain short circuits and blue screens, and I end up sitting, staring at my task and thinking of nothing. this is not ideal for school!! but it is so hard to ask for help, because I feel stupid and disruptive. other kids just run on a newer and faster operating system than me. i am simply behind on software updates.

a big part of my experience as autistic is having an incredibly hard time figuring out how to do or even comprehend things that are new to me, foreign to me, too complicated and large for my mind to run efficiently. I don’t even really know if I’m explaining this properly. At this very moment I am scraping through those lines of code, looking for errors. I very much have a hard time deviating from my “comfort zone”, things that I have already been doing and repeating. repetition is comforting to me. I have already run these programs countless times, and they are proven to work.

My robot brain is my explanation as to why I have trouble improving my art, why I have struggle with disordered eating, why I sound so dry while texting and so awkward while talking. i need the steps broken down for me in such a specific way that is simply not possible most of the time if I want to understand how to do something new or in a new way. for example, I draw the same things over and over, and as such, I do not improve. need to learn fundamentals like lighting, space, form color etc. but attempting such a task is so very daunting. what if I do it wrong? what if I crash? where do I start? Or I try to make something for myself to eat. What if I ruin the dish? There are ingredients in this dish that are not proven to be edible by me. This is cooked in a way that may not be able to run on my operating system. Corrupted code, threatening to break the program. Instead of eating something otherwise healthy and nutritious, I may choose the same, simple food, or not eat altogether.

I am rather verbose, having collected many evocative words over the years, but when there is a concept that I have not attempted to explain before or must explain in a new way, my brain struggles to put it together. a jigsaw puzzle can only be put together successfully in one way. I am not a creative person. I cannot find new and creative ways to complete the puzzle. all I can do is put it together in the same way each time. I often upset people when texting with them, as I use the same responses, same wording, same punctuation etc over and over. To them, they may feel like I am simply uninterested or bored with the conversation. Texting can be stressful because I must rearrange the puzzle in a different way over and over as to not make the person feel ignored. It must hurt to see someone reply with the same mannerisms and phrases each time you speak to them.

I have compared myself to a generative ai before. That may be what I am, but I don’t think I am a very good generative ai. I am more like a factory machine being made to run the software of a generative ai. A machine that has been putting cars together over and over is suddenly asked to create a picture. it is so very strange to be an artist in this state!! again, I do not consider myself a creative person!! it is a lot of the reason I see my work as lacking the same spark and life to it as others work does. they can imagine all sorts of ways to create, all I can do is haphazardly rip apart what I already know, put it back together, run the program and hope it works.

I do love to learn. I do love to scrape and compile new words, new techniques, new food, new tasks to update my software. this is why I have low support needs, as over time I have been slowly integrating more and more features into my program. but it is still overwhelming and disheartening to see my classmates diligently working on an assignment that I rainbow wheeled through the too fast, too complicated explanation of, or see another artist younger than me create beautiful work using techniques that threaten to crash my brain trying to deconstruct, or eating something that I wish to try, but may threaten to poison my code.

I don’t want to be a factory machine, assembling the same parts over and over. I want to be a person, capable of creativity and confidence and working around error and operating smoothly without freezing or shutting down or overheating all the time, needing long cooldown periods, time spent laying in bed doing nothing when I could be lending my time to be productive and do things I want to do. but since I don’t have any other words to describe my experience, it is a comfort to at least be able to name the feeling in a way that others may be able to understand. saying you function like a vintage IBM on dial up also sounds better than saying you’re developmentally retarded.

or maybe my attention span will get better if I get off that damn phone amirite LOLOLOL

but sorry if this was incomprehensible. I feel like it was.

[vault-kid]

2/2 follow up question… Luna and Wadsworth ♥️ tell me more.

Luna and Wadsworth!

Writing it under the cut! Sorry in advance for a bunch of text >_<

Luna was very surprised that her little shit-hole in Megaton came with a Mister Handy in the first place. Or at least, a fully functional one— Who the hell knows how long he's been in there or why he was there? In all honesty, she thought he'd be defective or something, kinda like Andy. So when he first introduced himself, Luna didn't really take anything he said seriously. In fact, she really just saw him and his charging station as a waste of space 😭 But, he quickly proved her wrong.

At first, their relationship was very neutral. Wadsworth always muttered under his breath when assisting her or even speaking to her, like he does in-game. He's only programmed to be her butler, and she just didn't know what to do with him. Like, she's capable enough to keep her OWN house tidy, but whatever... They felt like odd roommates, really.

The more time Luna spent out in the Wasteland, the more stuff she back with. Filling her home with a few knickknacks, her childhood stuff, new weapons, etc, etc. That only meant more stuff for him to clean, dust, or tidy, so of course he was delighted (muttering under his robot-breath). Luna thought it was kind of funny, though, but she was always kind to him. Of course, here comes the teddy bear collection bit.

Luna gradually began collecting those random teddy bears she found in the Wasteland and placing them around her house. On the common room shelves, near the stairs, on her desk, in the lockers, on top of the fridge... On top of his charging station... Literally everywhere, and posing them too. Maybe two of them were holding hands, maybe one was upside down. Wadsworth honestly disliked her doing this, mostly because he knew he couldn't really move them, so he had to be careful to not topple them over. Once he asked her about why she did that, all she had to say was "I dunno. It's funny." He certainly didn't think the same.

They slowly grew closer the more she came back home. There were good days and bad days, though. In those good days, she'd ask him about the joke feature, and just had little conversations, telling him about her day or about her quests and stuff she'd see out. On bad days though, she'd just close herself up in her room, and stay there, sometimes for hours, or even a day. Wadsworth found it odd, but being a psychologist wasn't in his programming, so not much he could do. Although, he did worry for her a lot of the times when she came home injured, and insisted she got the in-house infirmary set up (which she did thanks to him).

Luna would shut herself out a lot, wanting to be alone in her room, so Wadsworth didn't really ask if she was okay, or if she needed assistance other than around the house. A lot more bad days than good days later, he tried attempting to humor her in any way he could with his jokes. They sometimes worked.

Regardless, Luna loved coming home every time she had the chance, and felt happy that she had someone (or something?) to come home to, even if it was a Mister Handy. She didn't feel so alone there. Once she got the jukebox installed, she'd leave it on tuned in to GNR so Wadsworth could fill her in about whatever Three Dog said about her, and so he could enjoy some of the music too (he didn't)

Their relationship did grow more after the death of James, too. But that also meant Wadsworth grew more worried of her. After the Enclave took over P.P at the Jefferson Memorial, Luna needed a mental break from like... everything and that meant staying in, and rotting. She was depressed, upset, confused, lost. She'd just stay there inside all day, and Wadsworth would at least remind her to drink water or something. She didn't speak much about James' death or anything, at least not at first, but he could definitely see that something had happened. If she ever left, she'd often times come home injured, and he always insisted she healed herself immediately. He did grow to care for her a lot, and vice versa.

Luna also stopped posing the bears around the house, and he could tell she was not okay. Realizing how much of a hard time she was having, he wanted to do something for her other than, well, assist her around the house. Wadsworth started moving the teddy bears around too, posing them differently, or maybe adding more from her collection around the shack, hoping she'd notice (She did!) Eventually, Luna did start opening up to him and all that, about her life at the Vault, about James, etc. She appreciated his attempts to cheer her up too. Wadsworth began being someone Luna really appreciated and loved, like family, in a weird way. They have such a nice dynamic, and if he wasn't programmed to just be a Mister Handy, she would've definitely asked him to travel with her.

Things around the shack changed after Dogmeat and Butch came along, but their dynamic still stayed the same. That's a story for another time tho :3

[aannonn]

shipping name thingy

honestly the omori fandom is so creative with names that it makes me want to be creative too

like- sunflower?? suntan??? cotton candy???? such beautiful names honestlyy

thats why... after discovering some creative names for the shipping names in jshk.... and being inspired by the omori fandom... i decided to create some ship names myself yey

and because i like to be creative with things it feels nice lol

anyways- lets start!1!11! (lil' note; those names that I have created are mainly for me to use it. However, If u yourself want to use it aswell, I don't mind.)

Yugi Twins x Yashiro Nene Honestly I thought of naming it YugiNene at first... But then it would be like I was shipping the whole Yugi Family with Nene... And because I was kinda copying someone else's ship name for them, so....

twinnienene

not exactly sure about this one, but the twinnie (stand for twins) is just me shipping the Yugi Twins with Nene, and not with each other.

The reason why I even came up with this ship name in the first place, its because amanenetsuka/hananenetsuka kind of sounds like im shipping the twins with each other too... i'm not saying that everyone who ships hananenetsuka/amanenetsuka ships the twins, i just wanted to try to make it sound like im shipping yugi twins x nene, and not amane x nene x tsukasa. idk im paranoic lol

Yugi Amane | Hanako-kun x Yashiro Nene I once saw someone name the ship something along with "star" or something like that. I was inspired by them. This one was kind of tricky, since we hardly know anything about each of them (yes, even nene), but I thought of naming it...

spacebound hanako likes space... nene is bond to a ghost who likes space... does that make sense? lol

starfish hanako likes stargazing(or atleast used to), and nene turns into a fish when in contact with water- eh

donutcake hanako likes simple and homemade donuts, nene likes strawberry-filled rice cakes

strawberrydonut same with the previous one

kittyhamster nene looks like a hamster, hanako acts like a cat

spaceflower flowers are often used to represent nene, especially the tsubaki flowers; hanako is inlove(not literally) with space

starflower same as the previous one

starnene hanako loves space, nene is already a cute name

spacenene same as the previous one

moonyreflection hanako has moony pupils, nene's eyes often reflects hanako on them

shootingstar they are both the shooting stars in each other's lifes/afterlifes

snowy based on that one official artwork where it shows that nene finds snow romantic, while hanako seems to find snow fun/seems to like snow

y.y a text face, but the letters are the initials of their last name (yashiro & yugi)

(I'm probably going to add more.. Once i get ideas lol imagination is infinity)

Those are all the names I can think of (yea im not good at naming things lol) Since I'm not exactly sure which one to use, I'll probably use all of them yey

Yugi Tsukasa x Yashiro Nene my otp i love them sm... not in the actual context of the manga, but i like to pair them up in some of the official aus, since tsukasa doesn't have a demon inside him in those aus- lol honestly i wouldn't be myself if I haven't atleast tried to give their ship a name.................... even though tsukasa is being pretty difficult...

fluffydonut tsukasa seems to like donuts, while nene's face seems to be really fluffy (in a way that its squishable lol)

to add more (maybe) its just hard to think of a name when we hardly know anything about tsukasa a plz aidairo show us more of tsukasa's actual interests......

it had more, but I didn't really like any of them, so I decided to just put the fluffydonut here lol

Thats basically it... But I probably going to add more lol I just had ideas for those for now

Anyways! I think that's it-? For now atleast lol and yes that was random. lol kind of-

cya!

lil' reminder; feel free to add your own thoughts into it or to correct me about something! Just, please, be respectful about it.

[imsobadatnicknames2]

Oh nooooo how could we all have been so gullibleeeeeeee we've been so dumb we got trickedddds!!1!1! Thank you for saving us from our own gullibility!!!

(if that's what you wanted out of this interaction pls stop reading here, if you're interested in an actual response keep reading)

Dude just checked out the first filtering option on the search engine and based his entire argument on it lol.

Like I responded to an earlier person, I think having a certain level of skepticism and even cynicism is a good thing, it's very natural to assume that what the search function does is take the text you put in the search box and then generate 410 pages of nonsense around you to "trick" you into thinking the text was there, because that's the simplest explanation and Occam's razor and all that, (and that's also what I assumed when I first encountered the website around 2016), but when you get a little bit more familiar with how it works turns out that's not true.

For example, if the website was just copying the text from your search and filling the rest of the pages around it with nonsense, then it would be impossible to find the same book WITHOUT using the search function, right? But if you take the book you found using the search function and then send the room ID, wall number, shelf number, and volume number to someone else and have them manually find that book, they will still find the text you used in your search in it (tested this multiple times). If the search function worked like you're claiming it does, it wouldn't be possible for someone else to manually find the same text this way unless the website was also storing the results on disk somewhere whenever anyone searches for anything in case they wanna show it to someone else, which at this scale isn't plausible

The actual way it works:

The website has a Pseudo-random generation algorithm that takes a seed as an input, and produces 1312000 characters of text (410 pages with 3200 characters each) as an output. The book location (room ID, wall number, shelf number, volume number) is used as the seed for the generator, thus ensuring that the same location will always generate the same book contents (i.e. you'll always be able to find exactly the same book as long as you remember where it is)

The search function works by reversing the generation algorithm. Instead of taking a seed and producing a string of text, it takes a string of text and produces a list of all the seeds that generate an output that contains that string of text somewhere in them. You might still consider this trickery or dishonesty (personally I don't, as the Theory section of the website is very clear about the fact that this is how it works and even provides the source code, and I consider this type of seed-based algorithmic generation to be honestly just an extreme form of information compression when used this way), but at the very least it's a more clever form of trickery than "copy text from search box, generate random text around it".

Also your entire argument is predicated on the fact that it doesn't look plausible because all the search results are just the text you searched for with nothing else on the page then but like... It's because you're using the filtering option designed to show you only results that are just the text that you searched for with nothing else on the page,,, there are three filters in the search function, one of them is "exact match", which only displays seeds which produce an output that contains the string you searched for plus a full page of spaces somewhere inside it. It's a filtering option that works like that by design, not because it somehow didn't occur to the dumbass who made the website to trick gullible idiots on the internet that it would look less implausible if he also put a little bit of random text in the page containing the thing you're searching for and everyone but you has been too dumb to realize it.

The fact that there's an actually functional website for the library of Babel is one of those things that fucks me up more and more the more I think about the implications.

[citadelsanchez]

Hey there

May I request a rick × a female short-tempered reader whose soft and kind, only with him and for him?

Thank you so much~

Heyoo. Ngl, I wrote this half asleep tbh and my brain would not give me any better ideas so I hope it's decent haha. Enjoy (:

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I swear to Goddddd" you seethe, gritting your teeth and clutching the steering wheel.

You'd been stuck in traffic for a ridiculous amount of time, which was adding onto your anger from the hours before. There wasn't anything in particular that ruined your day, just the usual routine of rude customers at work, your one (and honestly only) friend pushing your buttons, and now shitty drivers making the way home insufferable.

Your almost-relationship also hasn't responded to your texts in 3 hours, which secretly made you want to scream although you'd never let it be known. He thrives off of your annoyance, there's no room for emotional vulnerability slips.

Which most people don't seem to expect from you anyway.

"You need to work on your friendliness," your manager quipped at you earlier. "Your happy tone is there but your face just looks flat and unamused constantly."

You'd just bit your tongue and refrained from saying that it's already a massive effort to keep from strangling most of those that come in everyday.

"Uh-huh, sure. So can I come over later when I get off?" You'd texted Rick, your aforementioned almost-relationship. You call it that because you've been seeing each other for a couple of months, but haven't put any labels on anything. They weren't really his thing; you guessed it came with the territory of being insanely intelligent. Nothing needed to be explained in his eyes.

You felt like the text came off as clingy, and assumed that it's why he didn't text back, which only made you feel worse. But oh, if you would have asked to sit on his cock, he would've texted back at the speed of light. Such an asshole.

You pull into your driveway now, getting out and slamming the car door. A nosy neighbor was on the sidewalk across from your house, mindlessly staring at you and the display of irritability.

You put your hands together to mimic a camera and pretend to click the top.

"Take a fucking picture, yeah?" You say and head inside. You don't mean to be so volatile and hot-headed, but in your humble defense, people truly drag it out of you.

You go into your bedroom and sigh, flinging your work clothes off to slip into casual pajamas and flop down on your bed.

"D-damn babe, judging by the way you toOOOK those clothes off, I'm assuming it wasn't a g-good day at work?" A voice says, making you screech as you had your eyes closed.

You look around the room to see Rick, stood in front of your closet, half smirking with portal gun in hand.

"Rick- fuck, don't scare me like that you massive cunt," you breathe out. You've told him that you're not a huge fan of him portaling into your personal space at random. But Rick being Rick, you might as well have been talking to the wall.

"T-tell me how it went, Ms. Grumps," he responds, walking over to sit on the bed with you. You feel a sense of comfort wash over you as his scent fills your nose and the warmth of his body radiates beside you.

You bite your lip and look down, embarrassed at how often your rage consumes you. You also don't want him to notice that your body seems to naturally detox when he's around.

"Um, ya know, just the usual stuff. Which you would know if you had texted me back," you replied, a hint of both hurt and playfulness in your voice.

He stares at you for a second before he gently puts his hand on top of yours and clears his throat.

"Yeah I-I'm sorry about that, M-Morty and I got caught up on Flarbellion chasing t-these Robobros. Almost took my fucking h-hand" Rick says.

"Uh huh, I'm sure. I just missed you" you mumble, still feeling a little upset and being unable to hide it.

"Come on d-don't be whiney, I'm- your knight in shining armor is here now," he smirks again, leaning in to move a strand of hair out of your face and put a hand on your thigh.

Your breath hitches a little and your heart starts beating rapidly. You're used to being around him and being in him but these sweet actions- they're small and rare all the same.

Rick shifts to sit behind you and starts running both hands through your hair now, one massaging your scalp slowly and the other petting it gently. You moan slightly in ecstasy from the feeling and lean back into him.

"Rick, that feeels so good."

After a minute or two you turn around and wrap your arms around him sheepishly. "Thank you, Rick. I can return the favor if you'd like."

"Th-that's okay hun, just wanted to help. I-I've got some favors you could return instead though." He says, his voice suggestive and grin as evident as ever.

"Shut up, you're the worst. And the best," you admit, realizing that in just a few minutes time he'd made all your stresses melt away completely. It happens every time.

"D-don't I know it, sweet girl," he smiles down at you, leaving a kiss on your forehead.

[whirlybirbs]

               (   another gif by @unearthlydust​ from this beautiful set !   )

✪   —   VACANT MIRRORS  ;  B.B.  |  3/?

summary: you find out about bucky’s past, he finds out about yours. 

pairing: bucky barnes / f!reader

tags: set before & during tfatws, friends to lovers, therapy positive, trauma healing techniques, ptsd mentions, the normalization of anxiety disorders, and a good ol’ slow burn

word count: 6.4k, va va voom

a/n: oh look out here comes the plot, charactization, and growth between to pals who are maybe starting to feel a little something begin to take shape. but ignore that, there’s danger afoot. no spoilers for tfatws here!

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“You know I have to ask these questions. It’s part of the check-in.”

“Yeah,” you fire back, flat enough to warrant Dr. Hart’s scowl to grow. You can’t see it over the phone, but you know the way her words whip around you means she’s upset, “I know.”

“If you’re not following the action plan set out by the judge,” she begins, leaning forward as her tone drops into a scalding hot sort of seriousness on the other end, “You will go to prison. You know this. So, do you want to spend ten years of your life behind bars? Are you trying to get yourself locked up? Come on.”

You can’t look up from your computer’s screen. Or maybe you can, but right now, there’s a dangerous mixture of anger and guilt and frustration boiling under your skin.

“I’m trying.”

“Trying isn’t good enough for the GRC,” Dr. Hart snaps, “You know this. They’re giving you a chance — they know you’re talented. You have the ability here to go straight, to earn a living, to finally make up for those years of blackhat work.”

“Everything I did,” you fire back, ripping your eyes up to meet Dr. Hart’s, “Was for others. I didn’t get a fucking penny.”

“You’re not Robin Hood,” she shakes her head as her tone softens, “We all make mistakes. But, everything has a consequence. You know this. And this conversation isn’t even considering the other charges.”

“You know the extortion case would never hold up in court.”

Dr. Hart sighs raggedly. “And I don’t intend on ever seeing it play out in court, because you’re going to follow the conditions of your pardon.”

“The GRC is a bunch of fascists—”

“Enough,” she snaps, “If you want to go and appeal your case with the judge, be my guest, but I can almost guarantee you’ll be perp-walked out of that Federal courtroom in cuffs.”

She’s right.

Dr. Hart is right.

Your knee is bouncing, up and down and up and down. You’re wound up around yourself, arms crossed tight, brows knotted. With a shaky exhale, you just nod. You breathe, and you remind yourself that she’s right. She’s right, she’s right, she’s right. It’s not worth it. Dipping yourself back into that world, the layer of the web beneath the surface, isn’t worth it.

The GRC is your way out.

Just be a good little girl and do as you're told.

“So, I’m going to ask you again,” Dr. Hart begins, pen clicking alive on the other end of the phone call, “...Have you engaged in any illegal activities online in the last seven days?”

                                                       ◦   ◦   ◦   ◦   

Inessa Sidrova’s photo stares up at him from its place on the speckled marble counter, stacked neatly next to his notebook where her name is scrawled in chicken scratch — between two other names: Zemo and Henrikson.

His laptop, technically on loan from the FBI, sits beside both.

(When Barnes had agreed in that closed doors meeting to the conditions of his pardon, a certain FBI agent by the name of Jimmy Woo had been rather insistent that Barnes needed a personal computer in order to carry out his portion of the conditions insofar as tracking down the remaining HYDRA pawns in the States. Woo had also insisted, to the agreement of Dr. Raynor, that a personal computer would help better acclimate Barnes to the new world he’d been dropped into.

Woo was even nice enough to take an hour of his own time to show Bucky enough to get started — but was whisked away for some investigation out in New Jersey.)

Bucky rubs the cold vibranium of his left palm into his eye, then exhales long and slow.

He’s done all he can. And still, no leads on the woman.

Rounding the kitchen island, he digs his cell from his pocket. He goes back to staring at that text — the one he’d laughed out loud at the moment it lit up his phone — and he can feel that ol’ bite of anxiousness creep into his arms. His fingertips tingle.

On the television, a laugh track plays over a clip of The Three Stooges. Blue eyes flick upward, and he partially wishes a ladder would put him out of his own self-induced misery.

Outside, the antics of a Saturday night in Brooklyn roll on.

In the last few days he’s parsed through his thoughts enough to realize it’s not telling you that scares him — no, it’s telling you the truth. The whole truth. All of it. After all, the good comes with a lot of bad; the sort of bad you chain in a chest and sink in the ocean. And Bucky finds that, even still, the good is questionable at best. The good is… small. Microscopic. Completely and totally tainted by the fuckin’ decades of brainwashed, war dog bullshit.

He groans and drops his head back against the wall.

He tries, for the next twenty minutes, to formulate some sort of reply to your text message. But, half the battle is figuring out what to say, and the other half is actually typing it out. This whole flip phone purchase was really starting to sting like regret — and as much as Bucky loved technology back before the war, and all the magical possibilities it held, he can’t help but feel like an ornery old man now.

It’s the change. Steve was right. Too much change.

He can’t find the space button and he can’t figure out how to delete the random 3 he’d accidentally punched in — so, with a grumpy huff of disapproval, Bucky simply dials your number.

You pick up on the third ring.

“Don’t you know it’s Saturday?” your voice is a welcomed sound, “The History Channel is running a bunch of old war documentaries you might enjoy, grandpa.”

Bucky snorts, fiddling with the hem of his hoodie. “What makes you think I’d wanna watch that shit?”

“Everyone knows that old men like two things,” your voice is light, half-distracted from the sounds of it, “World War Two, or grilling. And honestly, you don’t strike me as the grilling type.”

“I like a good burger.”

“Yeah?” you snort, and Bucky can hear you shift your phone from one ear to the other, “Is that why you called? To hint at being hungry?”

“No,” he exhales, looking out the window, “No, I was trying to reply to your text but I can’t find the fuckin’ space button. Calling is easier.”

“Oh my god—”

“Shut up,” he barks with a laugh, sitting up, “Don’t even start — are you hungry?”

“Almost always, why?”

“Got any plans tonight?”

“... You do know who you’re asking, right?”

Bucky grins, a little boyish and a little tired. “Good point. Loser.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re the one calling me to hangout,” you snort, leaning to prop your feet up on your desk and lean back. Your chair wheels backwards, far enough for you to get a good look down the street. It’s a nice night, cool enough, and it seems like the whole borough is awake, “But, I’m only hanging out if you tell me what the fuck is up with court mandated therapy. I can’t wait another three days.”

Your anxiety has been pricked the last few days over it.

“... Do I get to pick the place?”

You roll your eyes. “Fine.”

“Great,” he exhales tightly, “I hope you’re in the mood for sushi.”

                                                       ◦   ◦   ◦   ◦   

Izzy’s is busy, but there’s privacy in the bustle.

Bucky had buzzed your apartment’s ringer and you’d flown down the stairs, looking… alive. The sort of alive that was new — like a fresh bud beginning to bloom in spring. It had made him grin, and he’d watched you push a tress of hair behind your ear as you decided it was warm enough for no jacket tonight. The light of the crosswalk sign lit you up like a star.

He was sweating.

Dr. Raynor was right — that was it, of course it was — that it was getting too warm for his usual outfit. So, he’d settled on the next best thing: a sweatshirt that was big enough and black enough that he could bury himself in it. His hands are tucked neatly into the pockets.

No gloves tonight.

He feels naked.

He shoulders the door and holds it open with the toe of his boot as you duck towards the back of the restaurant. There’s a booth in the back by a large bamboo plant — you weave through the place with a new found confidence. There’s anxiousness in your shoulders but it melts when you look back at Bucky. Like a watchful guard dog, he nods.

You settle into the booth, toss your jacket in the corner, and smirk.

“I get out sometimes,” Bucky remarks before you can even say anything. He shifts in the booth and reaches up to scratch his cheek with his right hand, “Not often, but I do.”

“I didn’t say anything...”

“You were going to,” he nearly smirks back, his brows raised as he adjusts the chopsticks on the table, “I know that look.”

You snort, nudging his boot under the table. That works a huffed little laugh out the man across from you. Almost immediately you can sense anxiousness rolling off him — it’s the tightness in his mouth that gives him away, the way he’s fussing with the soy sauce dish and trying to get it to line up perfectly with the marbling on the table. Worry flashes in your eyes.

“Bucky.”

He raises his head.

“You alright?” you ask quietly.

“You have to promise not to flip out.”

Your brows knot tightly — but before you can even question what the fuck he means, he’s casually dropping his other hand onto the table.

And you almost don’t notice at first. Your brain fills the gaps in, figuring it’s his glove. But, then you blink and his hand catches the light and you realize it’s not leather. It’s glittering obsidian, garnished with gold, and it’s moving. Flexing. Seams bending and warping and there’s a gentle hum coming from the appendages and you squint because he’s tapping his fingers on the table and there’s a metallic tik-tik-tik that meets your ears.

Then, your eyes jump to his face.

He looks pained.

You’re confused.

And then you’re not.

“You’re —”

You slap a hand over your own mouth. You have to promise not to flip out. Your eyes are eighty miles wide and your jaw is falling open and you’re leaning forward, whispering in a rushed tone because what the fuck.

“You’re that Bucky?!”

Oh, you feel stupid.

The hostess appears, suddenly. You snap backwards in the booth, Bucky tucks his hand away, and you both muster forced smiles to the waitress. She’s young. Pretty. Her name-tag says Sarah.

She asks about drinks.

Bucky gets a beer.

Slowly, you knock your knuckles against the table and drop your head into your hand. The look on your face is exhausted. “Do you guys have Mai Tais?”

The answer is yes. And you’re glad. Because you’re going to fucking need it.

The two of you are quiet until the drinks come — avoiding one anothers gazes for completely different reasons. Bucky is sheepish, a bit mortified, like he always is when people recognize him. It’s why he shaved his fuckin’ head. It worked well enough but… the arm was usually a dead giveaway.

Meanwhile, you’re wondering if you could shave your own head and disappear. Because there’s no easy way to explain the weird elation swirling in your chest right now.

Bucky’s first to speak. His beer is in his good hand. He inhales quickly, eyes darting to you as he leans forward and whispers incredulously. He speaks quickly and his words are pointed with an edge of curiosity.

“...What do you mean ‘that Bucky’?”

“Y’know, I knew there was a reason you acted like you needed a senior citizen discount. And you know exactly what I mean,” you rush out all while waving your Mai Tai and jabbing the side with the umbrella towards him, “Listen, this is a lot to take in, Mr. Avenger.”

“I am not an Avenger—”

“You helped reverse the Snap. You’re the Winter Soldier. That makes you an Avenger—”

Bucky’s shaking his head, eye screwed shut tightly because the sudden equation to his past self being considered a hero is like being socked in the mouth. He stutters over his words and shakes his head more vigorously, like he’s trying not to hear what you’re saying.

“I am not the Winter Soldier. Not anymore. And it’s not like I’m not on the fuckin’ roster, doll—”

You hold a finger up, stopping him there, and take a long sip of your sunset colored drink. You swallow. You exhale. Bucky swigs his beer.

“One, don’t call me doll,” you say curtly, then raise a second finger. You lean in and squint, “Two… Christ, the haircut really makes a big difference, doesn’t it?”

“That’s what everyone keeps saying,” he sighs raggedly, dismissing your scrutiny.

You puff your cheeks out and exhale. Leaning back in the booth, you try not to feel so fucking insane.

“...I can never have you over now.”

Bucky’s brows narrow quickly and his eyes snap to yours. “What?”

“I can’t have you over,” you explain slower with your eyes rooted to the soy sauce in the corner, “Because I don’t think I could ever handle you seeing my signed and framed Captain America poster from his USO tour in 1943.”

Bucky’s face is deadpan. “You’re kidding.”

“I really wish I was,” you gripe, “It’s an original.”

“...You’re a Cap girl,” he says suddenly, leaning back with this look in his eye. It’s less of a question. You can’t pin it down. It looks like he's damn near traumatized.

Bucky thinks — honestly — that this is the cherry on top. Every girl back then was a Cap girl, too. It figures, now, in this new century where he’s making new friends that… as per usual, Steve gets the cake. That fuckin’ pint sized bastard.

He’ll have to tell him about this.

You yank your eyes up to Bucky’s face. His mortification is shifting to surprise to amusement. You’re fast to sit up, mouth opening to fire a retort — but Bucky’s suddenly really enjoying the look of pure horror on your face at the insinuation. He’s smirking. Plain as day. He swigs his beer.

“No, no—” you raise a finger, “No, stop it. Don’t make it fuckin’ weird, Bucky, it’s not like I have his name tattoo’d on my ass. And I knew a girl in college who did.”

His brows rise sharply and you’re finding you’re regretting everything that’s coming out of your mouth.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you guffaw, gesturing for him to show you his hand again, “I wanna see.”

Bucky sighs and plucks his hand from his hoodie pocket.

With a sort of tenderness Bucky wasn’t prepared to handle, you take his metallic hand into your own. There’s an immediate twinge — one that’s procured by flashes of violence from years of being a walking weapon. He breathes, and he reminds himself that this arm is not the same that tethered him to HYDRA all those years ago.

This arm is his, it is not him.

The sensation is different. He isn’t used to anyone touching him like this; he’s used to the feeling of flesh on the other end of a punch, or a throat caught in his palm. Not the gentle pass of your fingers, delicate and purposeful, over his knuckles.

You turn over his hand, eyes alight with curiosity — and Bucky, desperate to stamp out the hotness growing in his gut, moves quickly to flick your nose.

“Ow—”

“Don’t stare,” he says coyly, “It’s rude.”

The waitress is back. His hand is tucked away, and you wrestle the stupid expression off your face long enough to order a plate of assorted maki rolls and some fried tofu. Bucky orders what seems like his usual — shrimp tempura and spicy tuna rolls.

The waitress, Sarah, disappears with a smile.

You’re grinning.

“So… Does this make me the sidekick?” you whisper playfully.

“Shut up,” Bucky laughs, his lips almost darting into a smile.

You cock your head, pushing your chopsticks across the table with a horribly coy look on your face. It’s comical. “...I think this makes me the sidekick.”

“It — stop it — it does not make you the sidekick,” Bucky says slowly as he sips his beer and pins you in the booth across from him, “I’m not a hero. You’d have better luck asking Cap on that one.”

You grow silent. There’s a question hanging on your tongue. You’re wrestling with yourself — Bucky can see that much. He frowns.

“Spit it out, Goose.”

You blink. “Was that a Top Gun reference?”

“You wanted to be the sidekick.”

You wave it off, blinking into your Mai Tai. Your voice is quiet. Even as you speak, there’s a hesitancy akin to walking on eggshells. “What happened to Cap? Is he… alive? He’s gone off the grid. It’s, like, this massive conspiracy theory online.”

“He’s upstate.”

You blink.

“That’s ominous.”

Bucky shrugs. “Someday I’ll take you. It’s… nice.”

You go quiet. You freeze, drink halfway to your mouth. Bucky can’t help but smirk at that. His laugh is more of a scoff than anything.

“Relax, Miss America.”

“Shut up — do you mean that?”

“What, that I think you’re in love with Captain America?”

“No, you bastard, that you’ll take me. To meet him.”

Bucky’s words are easy. They roll off his tongue without a second thought. He feels… okay. Like this part is okay. Not as bad as he thought it could be. His anxiousness isn’t as heavy now. He feels like he isn’t losing you. But then again, he hasn’t gotten to the bad part yet.

“He’s my best friend,” Bucky explains plainly, “And so are you.”

The admission is warm. As easy as breathing. Two months in the making.

“Your only friend,” you say quietly, offering the joke as a cover for the softening tone that dances over your words. It’s affection, you realize, as you mimic his shrug, “But, go on.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” Bucky chirps, “But, yea, I mean it. He’d like you.”

You raise your chin, wiggling a bit in the booth. It’s pride — and as much as Bucky likes the look of it, he can’t handle the ridiculousness that comes along with it. But, it’s sort of comforting. He knows this playfulness, this easiness, it’s all because he’s him. You trust him. In.a way, it strikes Bucky with guilt. There are wall of his still built up high. Maybe they’re slowly coming down, but… he’s like a stray dog, slow to trust.

“Safe to say,” you breathe, “I have a few questions.”

“I figured as much.”

You sip your drink and swallow. You raise a hand. “But — I wanna know the boundaries. I don’t want to… I don’t want to pry about shit I have no business knowing, alright? It’s your life and even if we are friends, I don’t need to know everything.”

The relief is almost immediate. He thumbs the label of his beer.

“Ask anything. But I can’t promise I’ll be able to give you the answers.”

“And I’ll leave it at that,” you say sternly, propping your elbow up on the table and offering your pinky finger, “Until you want to talk about it. Promise.”

He crooks his pinky in yours, squeezing gently. You smile.

Sarah comes back with the food, and then Bucky offers his usual half-exhausted, half-amused smirk.

“You get three questions now. Then, we shut up and eat.”

You fold your hands neatly over themselves, eyeing your food as you try your best to sort out what questions come up with the most urgency. There’s… a lot. I mean, everyone knew about the Avengers — and everyone had their opinions. The Sokovia Accords, Lagos, the Blip… and SHIELD. Years of bullshit culminating around those who were considered the heroes. The kickback usually ended up on everyday citizens like you. After the initial amazement, the reality of it all set in.

But, to Bucky’s point, he wasn’t really an Avenger.

Nowadays, there really wasn’t a team at all. No up-state compound, no leader, no Stark and no Rogers.

You’re sure the GRC will try — that the military will try. Morale and hope and blah, blah, blah.

You narrow your eyes. “How old are you?”

It’s quick. “One hundred and six.”

“How’d they keep you alive that long?”

There’s a wince that flashes across his face like he’s been stabbed with a white hot poker in the ribs. You see a twitch of irritation bubble across his lips. Not with you. No, it’s that this question is still hard for him to answer. Bucky exhales sharply.

“Next question.”

You feel a pang of guilt flare in your chest. You move along.

“Who kept you alive that long?”

“The Russians. HYDRA, if you wanna get specific.”

You exhale and settle on the fact you now have more questions than answers. But, you nod and snatch up your chopsticks. Enough of the twenty questions game.

In all honesty, it’s not like Bucky’s existence was common knowledge. The Winter Soldier was known mostly, sure, to those who had floated in the same circles as him when he was nothing but a rabid cur on a choke chain. He can’t help but be a bit thankful for the minor erasure of his new self — sure, in the eyes of the U.S. government he was a high-level threat to be reintegrated as soon as possible and surveyed at all times. But, to the average New Yorker, he was just another person. Everyone was so used to seeing the heroes in their costumes with their bigger than life personas and…

Bucky was just Bucky.

Even he didn’t really know who that was. He was starting to.

His pardon had come with some flak from some of the more political news outlets but… somehow, the details of the Winter Soldier’s exact crimes were being kept silent. Probably to avoid panic. And, even then, the connection between the newly alive James Buchanan Barnes and The Winter Soldier hadn’t been made yet in the public eye. He was glad.

The haircut definitely helped.

It’s like he was a walking classified redaction.

Bucky has a sushi roll in his mouth when he finally speaks. “For such a Captain American fan, I’m surprised you didn’t recognize me.”

“Oh, you’re really not gonna let that go, huh?” you say as you chew, covering your mouth. You swallow and waggle your chopsticks at him, “Listen, it’s been a while since I’ve… y’know, had my Avengers phase. That was years ago. It was at its peak when I worked for SHIELD. And besides, you’re kinda new to the whole superhero scene.”

Bucky frowns. “You worked for SHIELD...?”

“For a year,” you say tightly, “Back before the collapse.”

“Only a year?”

“It was for my graduate program,” you wave it off, “I won out on the most competitive internship NYU had to offer. I was working within their cybersecurity division. I will say I spent more time trying to sort of email phishing scams than anything else, though. I’m sure they saw my record and wanted to keep me away from the juicy stuff.”

Bucky squints.

You offer a sheepish shrug.

“I got into trouble when I was younger,” you sip your drink and sigh, “I always liked computers. I used to spend all my time on forum sites just… reading and talking to people and figuring out how these sites actually worked, so learning how to write my own code was just the next step. When I was fifteen, I learned how to tap phones. At sixteen, I was hijacking my neighbor’s internet conenctions and remotely controlling his laptop.”

“Sounds like a good time.”

“Yea, well, he was a sitting Senator who was having an affair with the nanny,” you mutter, “And I was stupid enough to try and blackmail him for cash. I wish I could say I learned my lesson.”

Bucky exhales long and hard at that, like he knows where that snap of misguided judgement goes. It’s not like he’s passing judgement onto you, but… like he knows the feeling. And you manage to not feel so small, then — telling him this is easy. It’s not your favorite part of your life by any means, but Bucky is listening. Really listening.

He fiddles with the paper wrapper of the chopsticks.

“So, less a Goose and more a Kevin Poulsen type, huh?”

You snort. “For an old man, I’m surprised you know who that is. But, I wasn’t hacking into the Pentagon at seventeen. I was too busy doing community service.”

“HYDRA had their eyes on him in the 90s,” Bucky mumbles through a bite of spicy tuna, the memory popping into his mind and flying out before he can stop it, “I remember… I thought his username was stupid.”

“Oh, you didn’t like Dark Dante?”

“Like I said,” Bucky chortles, “Stupid.”

“You wouldn’t have liked mine, then,” you smirk lightly, “It’s worse.”

Bucky raises his brows, somehow doubting that entirely. “Really?”

“...I was hackrabb1t for a long time. Y’know, with a ‘one’ for the ‘i’,” you cringe, “People kept thinking I was a furry.”

There’s a pause. Bucky’s face is set in an unreadable emotion. It’s confusion mixed with amusement mixed with… something else. When he speaks, he clears his throat and tilts his head.

“It’s clever. But,” a pause, “What is a furry? I’ve been seeing that word all over PlentyOfFish.”

Your jaw flies open. You raise your hands as your head reels around. Bucky has a look on his face like he knows, he knows he shouldn’t have asked and he definitely shouldn’t have given you enough context to know where he’s seen that phrase before, because now you’re looking at him like he has seventeen heads and they’re all on fire.

“Y’know what, nevermind—”

“—Oh, no, no, there’s way too much to unpack here,” you lean forward, “You’re on PlentyOfFish?”

“ChristianMingle wasn’t really my speed — stop laughing.”

“Shut up — stop it, stop — this is too much,” you say with a high voice, “If you get catfished, I’m not helping you track the person down…”

“—What the hell is a catfish?” he nearly cries, raising both hands in a desperate shrug, “I don’t even know what any of these words mean.”

“Oh, you sweet, naive, innocent, man—”

“No, no, no, no,” he chirps, raising a finger with a deadly look of seriousness on his face, “No, I am not naive or sweet or any of the above. I’ll take ‘cute’, sure, but none a’ those.”

“Is that what the furries call you on PlentyOfFish? Cute?”

He drops his head back against the booth and stares at the ceiling.

“Our friendship was a mistake, rabbit.”

You choke out a laugh. “Shut up, you walking claw machine.”

You’re both laughing now — quieter but sustained and everytime you think you’ve calmed down enough to sip your Mai Tai, you just have to look at the distraught, scruffy man across from you to break into another fit of muffled laughter. Finally, after what feels like forever, you both manage to calm down enough to finish the plates in front of you.

There’s a warmth that’s settled in Bucky’s chest — it’s eaten away at the usual jitter in his legs, the anxious twitch of his fingers. It’s a different emotion. Acceptance, maybe. Comfort. Affection.  

Then, while you’re piling the last bit of sushi rice into your mouth when your phone, set on the side of the table, begins to go off. It hums erratically, dancing in a circle, and all you do is stare at the name flashing across the screen. You’re smiling, hugging her. It’s from Jaimie’s wedding — out in some big, wide open orchard with the sun setting behind you. The picture there is old; you were both different people then.

Before… everything.

MOM Morristown, NJ

You scowl and stare.

Bucky blinks.

“You gonna get that?”

Quickly, you snap out of it. You reach and silence the buzzing with two quick taps. Quietly, you offer up a somber sigh.

“I never do.”

Bucky frowns again, this time with a worried look that digs deep into his eyebrows. You ignore it on purpose, pushing your plate away and leaning back in the booth. He knows what you’re doing — you’re avoiding his gaze, and therefore his own questions.

“Rabbit.”

“Oh, is that my new nickname, then?”

“It fits,” he chirps before crossing his arms, strategically hiding his metallic hand, “What’s up?”

You grow quiet — then it spills out.

“I can’t talk to her.”

“Why?”

You chew your lip. You bite your tongue and you hold back on the finer points of your anger — ones dredged up by the still present sting of your check-in with Dr. Hart this afternoon.

Here it comes.

“As a part of my pardon, I was ordered no-contact with my family,” you exhale, controlling the level of your voice, reciting the court papers you’d read over and over and over, “It was deemed that further contact would impact my progress towards reformed behavior and judgment.”

Bucky’s eyes are wide. His jaw is tight.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘pardon’?”

It’s your turn to cross your arms now, to ignore the sting of his look. It’s the kind that screams disappointment more than anything. You hate that you’re getting it from Bucky of all people.

“Like I said, I didn’t learn my lesson when I was a kid,” you shirk, “Last year I was arrested on a number of counts — I’d been evading the FBI, CIA, all of them, for years. I was doing it all for people like me. The ones who got left behind.”

Bucky’s tone is flat. It’s serious. His next sentence is less of a question, more of an order. The cadence is rhythmic and it reminds you of your brother the night he found out about the first time you’d been arrested; you decide, then, that Jaimie and Bucky would have gotten along.

“What did you do?”

“Whatever I could,” you wave your hands, “Identity theft, falsified documents, insurance fraud. Anything. There were people, like me, that in a blink, lost everything. Accidents, deaths, evictions and no one did anything for us. The insurance agencies wouldn’t cover damages related to The Snap. Life insurance policies, social security… It all got snatched up by people at the top while the system collapsed around us. I had to pay for my brother’s funeral out of pocket. And there were hundreds of thousands of people just like me, just trying to get by. And everything failed us.”

Bucky is stuck in silence. It’s like mud, dragging him to the bottom of a pond — the sort that’s dredged with misery. In an instant, his veins are on fire with an anger he hadn’t felt in a while. It manifests itself in the tightening of his jaw. He rubs his face and props his elbows up on the table.

“Why won’t they let you see your family?”

You fiddle with your napkin.

“My brother… His wife was on maternity leave when she disappeared in the Blip,” you mutter, “She came back to no job, a dead husband, and no home. Their apartment complex had been abandoned. She’s trying her best to make ends meet. She lives with my Mom in our old home. Neither of them can find work. They… The court thought that I’d be influenced to do something if I was around them.”

“What, like help?”

“They see me as a criminal,” you manage, “But I’m useful, so they’re keeping me around.”

Silence falls between the two of you once more — and the sad look on your face makes Bucky’s chest tight. He can see anxiety beginning to spill over; you’re wringing the napkin, fiddling with the edges. Suddenly, Bucky realizes you’re feeling exactly how he was an hour or so ago.

Your voice is soft. “I’m sorry. I was going to tell you.”

“Looks like we’re two birds of a feather,” he says, knocking the toe of your sneaker with his boot, “Listen, we all do stupid shit. I’ve got a lot worse weighing me down. I get it.”

You look up, sadness glistening in your expression like sun off a lake. It’s harsh. He wants to look away.

He doesn’t.

“... So, that means you’re good with computers?”

                                                      ◦   ◦   ◦   ◦  

That’s how you find yourself in Bucky’s Brooklyn apartment at almost midnight, wandering behind him in the long halls and watching curiously as he digs his key from his pocket and shoulders the door open.

It’s a small apartment. One bed, one bath, a kitchenette and that’s really it.

For its size, it’s hardly lived in.

You suppose it makes sense — Bucky didn’t have a lot of personal belongings, and with the hints he’d dropped about his life before The Blip, you were beginning to understand that he may have never really had that much to begin with.

There’s a blanket on the floor by the television and a single couch pillow. It’s tucked in the corner, behind a small sofa. There’s a chair in the living room, one from an old dining set. At the kitchen counter, there’s a stack of papers and a single laptop. Even though all the kitchen’s wares are older models, the bones of the apartment are good. Bare, but good.

You stop in the doorway to the bedroom and stare at the untouched bed. The sheets are tucked tightly in the corners — there’s something militaristic about it. Across the hall is the bathroom. It’s small. You can see a few amenities scattered across the sink’s top.

Being in here feels something like an open wound.

It was lonely. Quiet. Cold.

“We need to make a trip to HomeGoods,” you mumble as Bucky flicks on the lights, “I get the whole minimalist thing, but sheesh.”

“I don’t have a lot,” he says, kicking off his boots by the door and shrugging off his jacket, “And I don’t need a lot either.”

You watch as his shoulders sag a bit, like he can finally let down his guard just a little in his own space. It’s endearing. You perch yourself up on the kitchen counter as your eyes follow him; he moves to fling open a cabinet and grabs a mug. Then, he hesitates.

“You want tea?” he asks over his shoulder.

“Tea?”

“Dr. Raynor said,” Bucky reaches for a container of tea bags from the top shelf. His henley lifts enough to flash a bit of skin along his lower back and you swear you see a scar, “It would help with my anxiety.”

You swing your legs a little. “Then sure.”

“You can use my Captain America mug,” he chirps, laughing a little to himself, “Seeing as you’re such a big fan…”

“God, I regret even saying anything to you,” you spit as you hop down and lean around him to get a look at the mug, “Did you seriously buy that?”

“It was a gift.”

“Bullshit.”

Bucky snorts as you shake your head and wander backwards, eyeing the rest of his apartment with a bit of astonishment. It’s really nothing impressive — but, you suppose it makes sense. Whatever meager disbursement that the government was willing to give Bucky for his efforts in fixing the Snap was better than nothing.

Your gaze hangs on the blanket in the corner.

He watches you; and he notes the sore sadness that dissolves your posture at the sight of the nest in the corner. A bit of shame colors his cheeks as he heats up the water. When Bucky speaks, it’s slow.

“The bed was too soft. I couldn’t sleep on it,” he shifts from foot to foot and focuses on taking the tea bags out and methodically wrapping the strings around the handles, “Dr. Raynor said that’s a typical thing for soldiers to experience when they come home from war.”

You’re quiet for a while after that, only speaking when he rounds the counter with your tea. He offers it up with a tilt of the head.

“You never got to come home, though, right?”

“No,” comes the short reply as you both watch the lights outside the window, “No, I didn’t. Not until now.”

You nudge his arm with yours. You lean a bit. Bucky leans back.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he manages after a sigh and sip of the tea, “I can’t just feel sorry for myself anymore. I’m trying to fix the wrongs I did — and that’s why I need your help.”

You quirk a brow. He reaches around you and grabs the stack of papers on the counter. With a steady grip, Bucky presents the photo of a woman who looks strikingly familiar. You can’t place her face, but there’s something about her that feels like a slap across the cheek. She’s young here, in a faded photo with tattered edges. Beside her is a man who is laughing. The photo is candid, and they’re both beautiful. They’re both  wearing a uniform — but you can’t place the era or location.

You turn to Bucky for answers.

“Back in the 70s, at the height of the Cold War, HYDRA was working in tandem with the Russians to spy on American forces,” he offers easily, staring out the window, “The American HYDRA cell hadn’t yet been planted. This man, Andrei Kuznetzov, was a spy. He was feeding the Americans information on the Russian nuclear program. His wife, the one in the photo, was ordered to kill him. She refused.”

Bucky’s fingers twitch.

His words are soaked through with pain.

“I,” he continues, “killed him.”

You hold your breath. Then you spare him a mournful look.

“Inessa Sidrova went on to help form the same HYDRA cell that ended up taking over SHIELD here in America,” Bucky mumbles, “She’s dangerous. There’s others like her, ones who I helped create, all over the world. But, she’s my top priority. I just haven’t had much luck tracking her down.”

“That’s why you need my help.”

“I’m 106 years old,” Bucky deadpans, “The microfiches at the library were getting a little tedious.”

“But,” you chirp with a sly smirk, “You figured out how to set up a PlentyOfFish account?”

He shoulders you again as you sip your tea and laugh.

“Shoulda never said anything,” Bucky grumbles, “Dr. Raynor thought it was a good idea. Y’know, to get back out in the world.”

“I can promise you,” you say with a stern shake of the head, “The metal arm will get you plenty of chicks and dudes in due time.”

“Good to know,” Bucky replies as his words lilt with a playful sort of questioning that you purposefully ignore. You’re not feeding his ego today. Maybe tomorrow, after you take a crack at figuring out where this woman is.

It’s going to be a long night.

[dzamie]

What is your favorite mobile game?

okay I've been putting this one off for a bit, but lemme see if I can do it justice (and, uh, I do put a promo link at the end. y'know, if you want):

My favorite mobile game right now is Text Express(/Tilly's Express). On the surface, it's your average generic "scrabble+crossword" game, where you're given 4-7 letters and need to find a bunch of words using them, but there's a bunch of stuff it does so much fucking better than every other game in the genre:

No ads popping up between levels - every single ad is opt-in, with clearly marked "get bonus score via premium currency" / "get bonus score via ad" / "continue without bonus score" buttons, if a bonus is even offered.

No fucking energy system - the closest it comes is regenerating story exp, but once that runs out... I can just keep playing. I just don't unlock new destinations.

Surprisingly big dictionary - and not only can you see the definitions of words, but it even recognizes some words as inappropriate; they won't break your valid-words streak, but the game will say "No Reward," which is a nice middle-ground. It's a little arbitrary on what it accepts and rejects, though: "pee" is valid, but "pees" is a No Reward.

Varied hints system - the game has like 4 different kinds of hints, and gives them out liberally (though you can also buy them with the non-premium currency). It's nice to see more than just "reveal a random letter somewhere"

Cute story about a girl and her train - this game has a fucking narrative (albeit kinda contrived) with animations and characters. There's an inventor, living in an observatory, who invented the camera; there's a senile old guy you nearly run over with your train; there's some sort of old mystery ruins; there's a not!Girl Scout who... okay, she's less of a character. You're exploring and also trying to find the girl's parents, who are, so far, ambiguously probably alive? And apparently there used to be a golden age of trains, and then Train Wars? What the fuck is a Train War? I want to see it.

Unusually high amount of worldbuilding details? - Seriously, what the fuck happened in the Train Wars? Who are these possibly-mythical Volan creatures? I need more information on the cute animal critters mentioned in one of the collections. And can Tilly's grandmother do magic or not???

Lots of cutscenes - (all skippable, but I recommend not) I cannot overstate how many cutscenes there are in this story. Between multiple stories that pop up, cutscenes that appear when you fill your Collections enough, and even just the first time you show up in a new area or start a new minigame, there is straight-up more dialogue than some "normal" RPGs, I reckon.

Miniga- actually, this gets its own list

Minigames!

Okay, so you know how wordscapes and its many clones does that "ooh, try to guess the word containing THIS space now!!!" thing for a daily? And how fucking boring and luck-based it is? Text Express says fuck that shit, we're getting creative:

no crossword, just make the highest score you can in X number of words

crossword boxes vanish after you fill the word (except for intersections), eventually leaving you with little islands

find one mystery word (usually uses all letters, but not necessarily)

find as many words as possible, game ends when you find the mystery word

crossword turns invisible shortly after starting; see only the boxes you've filled in and ones directly adjacent

"Birdle" - 6 guesses to find 6 words (automatically fills in what would be green in Wordle)

use the (changing) marked letter in your next word to get points

all these words share a letter in these marked positions; figure out the letter for help figuring out the words

With the exception of the last one, these do actually have recharging plays, but there's always something to do. And to get anywhere, you play the regular game to power the train that takes you places.

Honestly, the only downsides I can think of is that the graphics can be a tad wonky (though they're being fixed - used to be that the Low setting made the ground disappear, but that's no longer the case lol)

Anyway, highly recommend. It's a lot of fun, especially if you have a wide vocabulary. Also here's the referral link so you can help me earn stuff or whatever.

[atalienart]

I've been writing for almost 20 years now so I have tons of tips. Focus on what you want to write, even if it's just one scene that really, really sticks out to you. You can build up around that one scene later down the line. Do not be afraid to just put notes in if you can't figure out the words RIGHT NOW. Even if it's just "Idk he danced what more do you want from me" as a place holder, it's fine. Your drafts are for YOU and to help you build your story - no one will see them.

Oh! I ran out of space in my last ask, but my BIGGEST piece of advice is READ YOUR DIALOUGE OUT LOUD. Please. Read it out loud to yourself. Act it out if you have to, but it honestly helps to hear it spoken to make sure it sounds human or that it makes sense. Like I just read this ask out loud to myself to make sure it made sense.

--------

Thank you for the advice! :) I'm not sure if you mean to write a scene and build around it when you start putting a story together or when you're already in the middle of writing. If it's the first one I must admit that it's hard for me to start writing in the middle of the story, unless it's just a random idea that I plan to use later, but if not I need time to figure out where to start and go from there to be able to start writing the first draft. If it's the scene that appears during the process of creating then true for me too, there are scenes that must be written otherwise will keep your brain working for weeks xD

As for place holders, they don't work for me at all. For 206 pages I wrote I only have one, I marked it as XXX to easier find it and it still bothers me. I only leave names to come up with later, every time I don't know someone's name I just type "IMIĘ" but that's ok xD Otherwise I feel stressed that it could change the plot or character's personality too much if I don't figure it out right away. Or it would mean leaving all the tedious work for last and who wants that. I must admit that my draft is pretty clean. I know there's going to be a lot of editing but still, I don't want to leave plot holes and patch them later. I'm actually pretty impressed seeing people leave a lot of things to fill in later. How do you do this knowing the info you omit can significantly influence the plot? Sometimes I think writers' drafts look like my notes, when I hear someone changed direction of a plot or switched a character in the second or third chapter and just kept writing I'm like, how are you going to deal with it later? I would be so, sooo lost later, I'd cry and it would be chaos xD I guess your brain's bigger.

And reading dialogues! Absolutely agree! Of course without action tags and all that. And sometimes I read everything pretending I'm a book lector xD it helps catching weird bits. Also, text has its melody and reading out loud allows to notice the tempo, interpunction mistakes and awkward phrasing.

And wow 20 years of writing! That's so awesome :D

[wonlouvre]

pairing: non-idol!mingyu x non-idol!female oc genre: fluff just because we love it word count: 2.9k+ WARNINGS: none! (pls tell me if i missed anything!)

Kim Mingyu is always caring and always loving. 💌: it’s true... kim mingyu has found his way to my heart. lol just kidding! it’s the vlog and ugh!!!! he’s so soft, sexy and domestic (don’t u dare disagree with me) and i had to talk about it!!! PLS SEND THIS SOME LOVIN <3 thank you!

1. Finding excuses to touch each other in little ways

Mingyu always gravitates towards you whenever your circle of friends get together. He seems to always find a way to be right beside you, regardless if the space is too small for his tall build. It doesn’t matter if you're sitting on a single seat sofa, the arm rest is plenty comfortable to lounge on (it’s not). And when you’re chatting with your friends other than him? He will just stand where you are, also listening (as if you don’t have enough ears already).

But more than that, you think it’s him finding excuses to touch you. It’s not necessarily the bold hand holding type or resting his arm around your waist kind of touching. It’s more on the subtle grazing of his knuckles against yours, shoulders bumping or his arms on the backrest, warming the back of your neck (when you’re finally on a big couch). 

It’s a little suspicious because you and Mingyu never established anything about crossing the boundaries of your friendship. In fact, it’s not only until recently that you started sending text messages other than the time and location of your meetup. You’ve known him for a short while. You met him through a mutual friend and that was it. You became part of their circle, him with yours. You now share text messages of what time you get off of work or what you are having for dinner. You even talk about the current drama you’re watching until midnight even though you’re already tired and could pass out anytime soon. 

You honestly don’t know how it all started, but you’re not complaining. At all.

You’re not complaining whether it be him excitedly running to you once you arrive or patiently waiting until the person sitting next to you leaves and slowly fills the vacancy. You also don’t mind when he removes the stray strand of hair you didn’t notice while you’re talking and puts it behind your ear. You’re also not uncomfortable when his gaze lingers to your face when he thinks you don’t notice. 

You’re no different anyway.

Your fingers always absent-mindedly find their way to the soft fabric of his shirt whenever he walks ahead of you. Sometimes, your hand rests a little longer on the back of his neck when he leans the other way to answer one of your friend’s questions while you speak to the one on your side. The bravest display of affection you have ever done was not only rubbing your hand against his back but slipping it underneath his sweatshirt where you could feel his bare skin and taut muscles because he said he was cold.

That was the first among many. 

Eventually, you start grasping Mingyu’s hand when he offers it whenever you’re walking to the restaurant, park, cafe or the parking lot without the need to look behind you . He just holds them out, trusting that you’ll take it. You actually do. Every single time. You don’t see it, but it puts a wide grin on his face.

2. Slowly becoming more comfortable with each other

It was a long tiring day at work but you couldn’t say no to Minghao’s birthday dinner invitation. He’s the mutual friend that led you to meeting Mingyu and aside from the long history the two of you share, you are grateful for him bridging you and Mingyu. Plus, his party always has the best foods and drinks. 

Mingyu must have seen right through you. Your shoulders were slumped and face casted down when you entered the house and removed your coat. Mingyu was waiting for you, leaning on the beam post as he scrolled down his phone to kill time. He offers you a small smile to which you return immediately. The day doesn’t sound so bad anymore. 

It gets better when he meets you halfway and envelopes you in a big warm hug. Your arms didn’t hesitate to circle around his neck, face nuzzling to his neck and smelling his scent you have grown familiar with. He almost swept you off of your feet and pressed a kiss on the side of your head, but he restrained himself and settled for a hug in the meantime. 

“Ahem,” you hear Minghao’s voice, making you reluctantly let go of the baby giant standing in front of you. “It’s my birthday. Shouldn’t I get a hug too?”

You chuckle and make your way towards him. You give him a hug, but only with one arm because Mingyu was holding the other one back, his fingers interlaced with yours. “Happy birthday, Minghao.”

Your friend mutters a sincere thank you. Afterwards, he sends a cheeky wink to Mingyu as if to tell him that he knows. In return, Mingyu just glares at him. You’ll never probably know about this teasing exchange, but who knows, Minghao always finds a way to have the upperhand. He’ll save this story after the two of you officially date. 

“Make a move already,” Minghao says and nudges his friend who’s left alone after you excused yourself to the restroom. 

“Shut up,” Mingyu groans and down the drink he’s holding. “I’ll do it soon, you impatient prick.”

Minghao just gives his signature giggle. 

You return after five minutes and Minghao’s wink doesn’t go unnoticed. You frown when he  snickers as he takes his leave. He must be getting drunk, you thought and find your place beside Mingyu once again, his arm around your shoulders while yours around his waist. 

“What was that all about?” You ask and look up to him. 

“Hmmm?” He hums and intently meets your eyes. “What is it?”

“Minghao,” you answer. “He just winked at me. Were you guys talking behind my back?”

Your narrowed eyes and sulky pout makes Mingyu smile in adoration. He shakes his head and leans down to lightly bump his forehead against yours. For a moment, your heart stops beating at the action. You thought he was about to kiss you. 

“No, of course not,” he assures you and ruffles the top of your head. “It must be the alcohol.”

3. Remembering little details about each other

There’s this one habit that you noticed Mingyu has been doing. His hair is short compared to yours, but even with that length, he likes to pull some strands and twist them around his fingers. At first you were confused, but when you witnessed him sleepily do it after he woke up from a quick nap, you were sure nothing looked more endearing. 

These days you do it for him and that makes him drift to dreamland in an instant. It wasn’t an intentional act. The first time was when you were in the car on the way to the rest house that you’ll be staying at with your friends. He was squirming and couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position. You felt bad because he looked like he really wanted to get some shut-eye. So without any hesitation, you gently grab his head and let it rest on your shoulder. Mingyu becomes small beside you once he wraps his arms around yours. You were only caressing his hair in the first few minutes and it’s not until later you started doing his habit. He was snoring all throughout the ride and you weren’t bothered by one bit.

On the other hand, Mingyu noticed that you only use one pillow. Not only when you sleep. You just seriously have one pillow on your bed and that’s it. You told him it’s inside one of your cabinets when he asked you where the other pair was when he visited (he goes to your place now, alone). He asked why and your only answer is that you don’t want it to accumulate dust. 

“I sleep just fine with one pillow for my head to rest on anyway,” you tell him while placing the hot mug on the center table. 

“Noted,” he says and pat the cushion of your couch for you to sit on. “I won’t give you any then for your birthday.”

You roll your eyes, but smile nonetheless and finally take your seat. 

Mingyu takes the remote and presses play to start the movie you decided to watch. You snuggle closer to him and rest your head on his shoulder. Almost like an instinct, Mingyu wraps his arm around you without tearing his eyes from the television. 

“You could be my other pillow,” you murmur under your breath and if Mingyu was too engrossed in the film, he wouldn’t hear you. 

Good thing he wasn’t. Because he heard you loud and clear. 

Remember when Mingyu said he won’t buy you a pillow for your birthday? He didn’t. But he did on one random day. 

Your hands were by your hips as you watched him take your now old pillow and replace it with the brand new ones he bought. He must be out of his mind if he thinks he can just barge into your bedroom and change your decor. Well, you must be also out of your mind because you’re allowing him to do so.

“Can I know why you’re suddenly changing my pillow?” You question as you follow him around. 

“You’ll sleep better with these,” he guarantees, fluffing them up.

You cross your arms and challenge his claims. “How do you even know that?”

“I asked around and did my research,” he answers and takes your hand to pull you to the mattress. “Doctors also recommend this particular pillow design.”

He makes you lay down and when your head hits his gift, you can’t deny the instant relaxation your muscles felt. You thought you were going to fall asleep right this moment. 

“How is it?” Mingyu asks, still standing as he peers down at you. “Feels good, right?”

“Lay down with me and you’ll find out,” you boldly offer, looking him directly in the eyes. 

Mingyu blinks in astonishment, but doesn’t back down. He quickly removes his slippers (the one you bought only for him) and takes the space on your other side. This is the first time he’ll ever lay beside you on your bed and you honestly don’t know how to feel. In a good way. A really really good way.

“Oh wow,” he says with a sigh and closed eyes. “This does feel good.”

You smile and prop yourself on your elbow to face him and bop his nose. “You didn’t have to buy me this, but thank you nonetheless.”

Mingyu opens his eyes before holding you close to him, your head on his chest and his one arm underneath your body. He briefly kisses your forehead and closes his eyes again. 

“Anything for you.”

4. Showing that they care for one another

“I can always cook for you, if you want.”

Mingyu, being the ever all around and caring person that he is, decided to make you lunch. He cooked you your favorites because you mentioned at your dinner date (yes, you finally call your times spent together dates) that you missed eating them and cooking has been excluded from your schedule because of your lack of energy to do so. 

Your smile is beaming while you fix the collar of his coat. He hasn’t even showered yet by the looks of his disheveled hair and familiar yellow t-shirt you saw during your video call last night. He probably woke up earlier than usual to cook and rush to get here. 

“You know that I will appreciate that, right?” You ask and pat his chest. “But no thank you. I’m just busy this week. I will find a way to cook again.”

Mingyu purses his lips and nods. “Well, just say the word and I got you.”

You giggle and kiss his cheek. “How’s the song you’re working on with Wonwoo by the way?”

It was Mingyu’s turn to smile as he tail behind you to your bedroom. He mentioned this collaboration once (he talked about it for hours but that doesn’t matter) and his heart swells with pride that you remembered. You know that he has a lot of interests and that he’s good at doing them. Recently, he’s been immersed with music composing because he had the chance to visit Jihoon’s studio and watch him do his magic. Bringing Wonwoo along was a piece of cake because of their similar tastes.

“It’s doing great!” He answers and plops down on your bed. “We’ll try to finish recording this week and then we’ll continue from there.”

“I’m so excited to hear it,” you genuinely say while caressing his face. His eyes were closed when he nodded and smiled. He’s really sleepy now. “You can stay here if you want. Nap, shower or whatever.”

Mingyu has stayed the night countless of times. He has his own drawer of clothings, slippers, toothbrush, facial wash, soap and shampoo among many other belongings here already and if he had his own key, he can also just saunter his way in. But out of respect for you, he doesn’t. He can’t wait for that to happen though. 

Mingyu doesn’t need to be told twice, immediately removing his warm coat and dropping it to the floor. You roll your eyes and pick it up, folding it neatly before placing it on the chair. You watch him slip underneath the blanket and hold the pillow you use close to him, slowly falling asleep. 

You breathe out a dreamy sigh and lean down to kiss his forehead. “See you later, baby.”

5. Slowly, but surely falling in love

How do you even start finding the right words to describe how Mingyu has made a huge difference in your life? He tells you how you did all the time. You, however, can’t seem to exactly point them out. Your boyfriend (for the nth time, finally) is not bothered by one bit but you feel bad because you want him to know, you want to assure him.

He just shakes his head at you and pulls you closer to his naked torso, coaxing you to sleep and not let it get in your head. You relent after a while, giving his pecs a soft kiss and closing your eyes. 

The following morning, Mingyu wakes up early because he has to meet with the director and production crew that will bring their music video to life. They took a break after the song was finished to breathe and let ideas flow naturally without any force. The song was beyond amazing and you are proud of what he and his best friend accomplished. He’s on a roll these days and you're happy for him.

Mingyu remains on the bed, picking up his phone from the nightstand to check the time. His other arm remains wrapped around you, running soothing circles on your shoulder as you continue to sleep. He lowers the brightness level before scrolling any further, afraid that it will awfully wake you up. He has the option to get up, but he prefers you to not get cranky because he left.

Eventually, Mingyu has to force himself up but not without leaving kisses all over your face. You were already awake the moment he woke up. You were just stalling for time with your eyes closed so that you can keep him close to you. When he detaches himself, you finally open your eyes and follow his body walking towards the bathroom. 

The bedroom is dark from the closed curtains, but the light he turns on is enough for you to get a good grasp of how sexy and handsome your boyfriend is. You ogle at him and you’re proud of it. He has caught you numerous times already, but he admits that he’s the same with you. It doesn’t matter if you’re wearing a hoodie matched with sweatpants or a lace camisole paired with an underwear of the same material. His eyes will follow you.

After stretching your limbs that fell asleep with you, you sit up and stand from the bed as well. You put your slippers on and grab the cardigan he always leaves on the chair and drape it over your upper body. Mingyu hears your movements as he brushes his teeth and smiles at your sluggish steps towards him. 

“Breakfast?” You ask while wrapping your arms around his waist, your cheek resting against his back. 

“I’ll grab some with Wonwoo hyung,” he answers, rinsing the toothbrush. “Do you want me to cook for you?”

You shake your head no and plant a kiss on his warm skin. Even at this point of your relationship, Mingyu has been consistent. Always caring, always loving. 

“It’s okay. I’ll probably fall asleep again in the living room once you leave.”

Mingyu turns around and wraps his arms around your waist. You lean towards him and let his body engulf yours. He kisses, once or twice, the top of your head before reluctantly letting go to shower. 

“Let’s have dinner together tonight,” he says. “I’ll cook.”

“No, I will cook,” you rebut and he just shakes his head. “I love you, Mingyu.”

Mingyu almost slipped on the cold tiled floor. You laugh and he glares at you. 

“I told you not to surprise me like that!” He complains and shuts the curtains closed. 

You roll your eyes and walk outside to the living room.

“And I love you too!” 

[skiiyoomin]

Hiii, since Hyunjin came back (finally 😭😭💖) can I request Hyunjin as boyfriend? Have a nice day :))

hellouu, im a little late but yeah i’m so happy he’s finally back 😭😭, thank you for requesting i hope you have a nice day as well ^^💖💖

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Content: gn!reader, swearing, fluff

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

ღHyunjin as your boyfriend

Hwang Hyunjin, the biggest sweetheart you could possible meet

he’s the type to have been in love with you since you were kids

it took him soo much courage, and whole lotta years, to confess

i mean, it was pretty obvious he was head over heels for you, except to you ofc

i don’t think he’d be the type to confess face to face immediately

but rather do it by giving you a letter and running off

so then you’d have to go to him and tell him how you feel

poor guy was about to shit himself when you faced him 🤡

nvm, you like him too, false alarm he won’t shit himself

now your first date was pretty simple, it doesn’t mean it wasn’t boring tho

y’all went somewhere entertaining like an amusement park

let’s not forget the cliche games where he wins you the biggest one 😋

if you aren’t too tired by the end of the day, he’d take you on a night walk, slyly holding your hand with a cute smile on his face :)

i feel like Hyunjin likes his fair share of indoor and outdoor dates

if you have an outdoor date, he makes sure they’re always filled with fun and unforgettable moment

then again, wherever Hyunjin is, it’s never boring ✋😙

whereas indoor dates are always relaxing and soothing

most of the times your indoor dates are in your house

can’t have the boys walking in on you 🙄

CLINGY A F

personal space? yeah you can kiss it goodbye 😀

he’s always holding you in someway

he doesn’t care who's around, if he wants to hold you he will

and if you leave his hug he’ll get all pouty like a little kid :(

but honestly, cuddling him is so comforting and sweet

he loves to spoon you and nuzzle his face onto your crook of your neck

sometimes he leaves kisses all around your neck and face trying to make you giggle

your laughs and giggles are like his serotonin boost, it always makes him give his infamous eye smile 🥺

now one of his favorite things ever is when you accompany him to his practices or even surprise him

and even when you join in, goofing around

the boys l o v e you

you’re like family to them and vice versa

if anyone hurts you, rest assured, you have eight boys who´re willing to beat some bitch up 😤

ok now y´all have a hugee kdrama obsession

you always watch them together and get emotionally attached

don´t even think about watching it ahead of him, it will cause WW3

one of the cutest things you do is hold pinkies, it´s so simple and tiny yet so signficant

to the both of you, it´s like a constant promise to be there for each other forever 🥺

another very wholesome activity you frequently enjoy is slow dancing in the middle of the living room, his arms wrapped around your waist, looking down at you with the biggest smile on his face

is he whipped? absolutely, what about it 😤

many many late night drives, playing anything and everything

from jamming to some oldies to relaxing to some lofi songs

lots of random texts saying the cheesiest yet heart melting things that never fail to make your day 🥺

and if he sees you feeling down, you bet your ass his dropping everything just to make you feel better

he doesn´t wanna see you frown after all :(

we alreafy talked about cuddling but imma go back to it cause it´s simply the sweetest thing ever

he n e e d s his daily dose of cuddles and if he doesn´t get it, he´ll be soo whiny :,)

he doesn´t care if he´s spooning or if it´s you who´s doing it, or if he´s on top of you or not, as long as he´s hugging you he´s happy boy

but his personal favorite his when he´s nuzzling your neck giving it soft butterfly kisses that make your heart flutter

now big fights isn´t frequent

y´all mainly playfully fight over stupid shit

or when you argue, it´s over something petty that will be quickly forgotten

lastly, how could we forget the kisses

have you seen those lips????

i can´t even imagine how good of a kisser he´d be 😫

he loves cupping your face and giving you big smooches all the time

his kisses tend to be slow yet passionate, showing all his love through those kisses

ends them by leaning his forehead against yours, staring deeply into your eyes with an endearing smile on his face

all in all, hyunjin pls date me 😃

seriously tho, he´d be such an amazing bf that deserves the entire universe :)