#like the world is soooo built but at the same time its built for my ocs!!!! i cant make a y/n outta that without so many modifications!!!!!

[vivisols]

me when I come up with the greatest fucking idea ever but its too entwined in my oc nonsense to be applicable to a y/n fic

[picaroroboto]

I've been wanting for a little while to talk about Pandaemonium, and about Hermes, and what I think these two topics have to do with each other, so here goes. The whole time I was playing the story in Pandae, I kept thinking that I wish I could tell Hermes about all this. For one, because Hermes expresses that he feels he's the only one emotionally suffering, yet here is Erichthonios also clearly going through some shit, so maybe they could find some sort of solidarity together.

For two, because I feel Pandae proves Hermes right in his criticisms of the Ancient world. It's essentially every single flaw of their world in microcosm! Let me try to explain:

To start, let's review Hermes and his problems:

This is from the conversation with him after you show him the Elpis flower changing color for you. He expresses the sympathy he feels for creations, and how being forced to put them down for the sake of the star puts him in this ethical crisis. The entire Ancient world is built around this idea of "for the sake of the star" at the expense of all else, including the lives of their creations and their own individual emotions. Because of this, Hermes feels all the more isolated, as if he's the only one who ever feels bad or questions the foundation of their society.

There is something very, very twisted about the fact that Pandaemonium lies geographically below Elpis, the Hell to its symbolic Eden or Heaven. At the very moment Hermes is crying over having to put down dangerous creations, even more dangerous creations are being kept alive in a hellish gothic prison replete with chains and cages.

As I traveled through Pandaemonium, I also kept thinking "Why is it a prison?" Why does such a place even need to exist? As we find out in Anabaseios, the concept of it being a place to research dangerous creations is a cover story, it's more or less Athena's personal laboratory for her to pursue her goal of godhood. I've seen people praise Athena for being a more shallow and simple villain than Emet-Selch for example, but she's not just a megalomaniac:

"I am no different from our peers" is soooo telling. Her obsession with remaking mankind in her image isn't just a selfish madness, it's the ideals of the Ancients, their obsession with making perfect creations for the sake of the star, taken to it's furthest and most insane conclusion! (also note the irony in her belief that a goddess would remake the species better, when Hydaelyn, the only true goddess in the setting, chose to preserve them as they are. Arguably even making them worse by Sundering).

So Athena takes her duty to the star way too far, Lahabrea sees that she's become a danger to the star for it, and kills her, then cuts off the Hephiastos side of himself - another example of how ruthless the Ancients can be and how they justify anything for the sake of the star. Because the Ancients also place a low importance on emotion, he never talks to Erichthonios about Athena. Feeling neglected by his father and curious about his mother, Erich is lead deeper into Pandaemonium and made even more vulnerable to Athena's manipulations. So even if it was one woman's madness that spawned the action in Pandae, the other flaws of Ancient society serve to perpetuate and exacerbate it.

It's also worse mentioning that for Pandae being a prison for dangerous creations, you actually fight more transformed Ancients and corrupted Warders than you do actual animals. As my brother put it in his own meta, Pandae isn't a case of "inmates running the asylum" as much as it is the power that the Warders wield over their creations corrupting them. Athena is indirectly behind the Warder's transformations, but she also took advantage of vulnerabilities that were already there, like Hesperos's fixation on Lahabrea.

And the same obsession with perfect creations for the sake of the star, the abuse of the power over life and death, continues to characterize the Ancients after the Sundering, with the way Emet and the Ascians ruthlessly Rejoin Shards in order to bring back their "perfect" world. But what Elpis and Pandaemonium prove is that the idea of the Ancient world as a paradise is little more than Emet's grief and nostalgia talking. Hermes may have triggered the Final Days, but I feel the blame for destroying "paradise" doesn't lie entirely on him - his crisis was layered on top of myriad flaws with the world he lived in, flaws he felt he didn't have the freedom to talk about because everyone else believed the world was perfect.

Any world where people can't question the foundation of their society is very far from perfect. A world where people ruthlessly wield power over others, both creations and other people, in favor of a grand goal is no paradise. A world in which prisons exist is no paradise.

If my tone started to sound a bit vengeful there, it's because I sympathize deeply with Hermes, and can't help but feel a bit vindicated on his behalf when I think that Pandaemonium proves him right and Emet-selch wrong. But even after I've spent all this time tearing into the Ancient world, I feel like I have to remind both myself and any readers that the point of the conflict between the Ancient and Sundered world in FF14 isn't to objectively compare them and decide which is better and which is worse. Such pragmatism would be in-character for an Ancient, but we don't have to subscribe to their views. Think about it - even if the Ancient world was proven to be a true paradise, we'd still choose our broken world over it, because returning would cost too many lives, and because we love our world not because it is perfect but because it is ours.

The choice is just made a little easier by all this proof that their world was never as perfect as they said it was.

[latibulater]

Venture Bros Rewatch notes: Home Insecurity

Fucking hilarious that Underland is designed like a disney princess villain lair but actually with all the executions.

tiger balm....tiger....bomb.....makes me laugh EVERY time honestly all i can think of when i hear tiger balm

Knowing that there are many kids with amputations in Underland from the child mines, like that is crazy the child amputee rate must be one of the highest in the world. i get that its played for jokes and it was funny, but if we are gonna be serious about all of it this counts and is like. mind boggling

whoo! use of the r slur! the way ive had to fucking campaign in my family to get them to stop using it and then i turn on this show and theyre saying it like every other episode makes me want to hunt down hammer and publick

okay but thats a waste of tiger.....

ik we dont learn this till later but i have questions about underland apparently being located right next to michigan.....PLEASSSSE LET ME SEE THE WORLD MAP IK ITS SO FUCKED UP

Brock's blue shirt is so beautiful on him...wish I could unbutton it off him. Dean and his hover boots, honestly those boots should make a come back

Stupid ass racist costume!

I literally choked on my spit and coughed at the same time Doc coughed at Brock's fumes

Okay I think Rusty is just doing a bit with the whole "big man think you can take me on? i knew this day would come" like seriously, the twins are so fucking silly but rusty is so beyond sarcastic he really is just projecting his own issues onto his kids all the time.

HELPER!!!!!!!!! Him going to take care of Rusty and so comically seeing NEW ROBOT blueprints and packing up a knapsack including a pic of child Rusty and Helper, oh my god it is just the sweetest robot and makes me wonder if there is a similar situation like with the red Helper happening with the whole....human brain.

the henchmen fighting and getting distracted till doc wakes up an slides into the panic room LOL

also i do love the underland footmen look as someone who loved tmnt it looks very foot clan

hank and dean may be a little over the top but they did take care of the scorpion and tarantula pretty handily.

Dean and Hank in the panic room and not even knowing when it was built....like seriously how many memories are they missing, consider they repeated being 15/16 over 10 times

Hank choking out Rusty is SO FUNNY Hank is just trying to help!!!!!!! just send them both to a first aid class you will be better for it doc

Rusty lactating!!!!! Milky king!!!!!

The animation and storyboard in this episode flips between dynamic and very getty stock images which is pretty funny

Dr. Girlfriend getting insulted and telling the monarch to use the phone himself...him trying to get an outside line....god i feel so old.

bigfoot baby!

"GUARDO" you fucking idiot Rusty. "I fell asleep" Okay but have we considered the fact  that you just don't have a head for mechanics and need to switch science majors

THE SNACKS FOR COMPANY. And Monarch apparently seeing the Baron for the first time since college and them trying to kill each other at first in a big dick measuring contest.

"how do you even mix it up! augh its like having my dad do the shopping!" ok i need more orphan jokes from the monarch stat seasons 1 he kills with this

its funny to see bigfoot and brock and steve summers meeting is so funny...considering that they all fuck when brock stays with them after he leaves the osi

"do you know how long 6 million bucks takes to pay back on a government salary!" fucking screammmmmmmmmmm

"lab partnership is a sacred trust" SSTILLLLLLLL want to know about how this happened

The Monarch fucking around struggling with his old ass computer makes me SOOOO nostalgic i remember we had a similar computer in the kitchen growing up.

Dean reading Helper perfectly and Doc going through a slumdog millionaire flashback before emotionally manipulating his mommy robot

One henchman became a hench after the plant closed and he only had a GED. one had a crack addiction and got off it. one (gary) got kidnapped) underland minions are drafted and then executed at 38.

"SASBURGER"!!! GOD "Sasquatch gave me a new life" Brock trying not be grossed out but like trying not to let it show (but only because he thinks Sasquatch is a woman at that point and he's bigoted but pro-str8 people always.

"Go team Helper!"

Jesus I really SSOOOOOOOOOOO would fucking fucking fucking kill for an expose episode on how henching works in the world as a job

all the army men are idiots very appropriate. brock getting SOOO weirded out. It is homophobic but also I choose to believe Brock has never seen a cock bigger than his own and got so horny and emasculated he got wigged out.

First mention of the Guild in this episode about filing paperwork on collaboration which i think is funny

Helper not letting Rusty out is SO funny me and my siblings would do that all the time. Truly, there is a lot to be said about Rusty and Helper's relationship. No other relationship has been as long for Rusty as Helper, who has been there sinvce he was a young boy and has always looked out for him.

Overall this episode is really fun and enjoyable, it does very well with having very silly concepts being treated seriously and then serious situations being treated clownishly. always love steve and sasquatch, altho the vbros design is so............he has a face only steve summers loves apparently. and the conversation on paying back the osi for the bionics was good worldbuilding/commentary on real world disability issues of how disability devices are often very expensive and only work at the behest of whoever made the device. my own cousin had a cochlear implant that worked very well but then he was told it was being recalled and he could get new one and now its works awfully for him

would rate this one like a 7/10. very solid but nothing too rib crackling funny or show pausing overly interesting

[celestialsister0918]

Fic Writing Review 2023

Thanks for tagging me, @gammacousin!

Rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please don’t eat glass but don’t feel like you have to do this either. (Copied and pasted)

Words and Fics

Word Count:

142,081

Fic Count:

6 started. 5 completed

Most Productive Month: February by far, thanks to Kinkuary!

Top Five by Hits

The One He Needs Right Now: Jim Gordon's Kinkuary: 5941

What I'm Thinking About (Sirius x Ginny): 3600

A Window Not Missed (Bruce x Nat): 2107

A Window Closed (Bruce x Nat): 1101

In the Sepulcher by the Sea (Sirius x Severus): 684

Top Five by Kudos

A Window Not Missed (Bruce x Nat): 96

What I'm Thinking About (Sirius x Ginny): 61

A Window Closed (Bruce x Nat): 47

In the Sepulcher by the Sea (Sirius x Severus): 32

The One He Needs Right Now: Jim Gordon's Kinkuary: 24

Fandom events:

Two @trulymadlydeeplyfest fests! 1 in February and 1 in October. Both Harry Potter. I'm so bad at knowing where all the fests are so those are my only two.

Upcoming Plans:

To Complete:

Finish "A Window Closed" (Bruce x Nat)

Start "A Window Opened" (Bruce x Nat)

Start "A Special Election" (Jim Gordon x NEW OC) - I have one chapter written and some dialogue prompts for chapter 2. I'm soooo excited for this one.

Other Ideas:

Continue one-off Sirius and other Gary Oldman character one-shots on Tumblr.

Write a Jackson Lamb piece

Maybe write a Kate Bishop x Yelena Belova one-shot if the mood strikes

Write another Gary Oldman RPF (many dialogue prompts already written). Here's my first Gary RPF if interested... it was set during the Dracula filming. The new one will be set after his divorce from Alex but before Gisele.

Reflection

I took a couple long breaks from writing this year. After finishing "Submissioner Gordon" in December of 2022, I was at a pretty bad low from lack of interaction with that fic. My heart has NEVER been in something as much as it was that fic, so to have so many hits and so little interaction made me think everyone hated it. Yet I continued the story with the Kinkuary prompts, where I wrote a short fic every day for 28 days. Again, I feel like it bombed.

At the same time, I made what I thought would be my last hurrah in the Harry Potter fandom, and it didn't do so great either. I was in a BAD spot comparing myself to other writers, so I took a long hiatus.

During that break, I started watching the entire MCU with my son, start to finish. My brain grabbed onto Bruce Banner and Natasha Romanoff and would NOT let go. So in May, I began publishing the "Never Say Never" series, where I try to fix their story.

The feedback from the Marvel fandom and Brutasha readers/writers really warmed my heart and got me back in the groove. I am forever thankful to them, because it truly restored my confidence in writing.

I will always be thankful for my Wizarding World series and the Submissioner Gordon/Daddy Issues universe, and my brain loves to revisit those stories and characters. It's just bittersweet because it never really found its audience. However the feedback I got from my foray into the MCU fandom has built my confidence enough that I am able to write in HP and Dark Knight without really worrying what others think. I am just doing it for me and my love for the characters. I know my writing isn't bad--- it's just not a lot of people's cup of tea.

I also want to give a shoutout to the small but steadfast Gary Oldman fandom I have found on Tumblr and Instagram. They've become very dear to my heart, and I love that we can share random thirst posts together when so many others just don't get it.

If anyone is reading this, please share your 2023 stats and reflections as well! I love writers supporting writers. Happy 2024 to you all!

[milfygerard]

Oh I'm so here for Taylor calling out her audience. Even while on the actual stage. a lot of people paid a lot of money to go to multiple times. Between the always needing content (both old and new fans) and projecting their own wants onto her even after she multiple times indicated she's not like that and that's not a priority, even if it does happen soon and taking out their own personal frustrations onto her exes instead of writing a poem a week. Bring Clara Bow Who's Afraid Broken Heart The Albatross TS12 if that's what's coming. I would find it funny. Subverting expectations even more.

same i find it sooo interesting. I think it also ties into her sort of gold cage motif of the fact that shes been building and cultivating this audience since she was 13 but the problem is she isnt 13 anymore. That level of emotional connection and investment just isnt possible on a safety and numbers level, like we are never getting back secret sessions (which were insane and probably shouldnt have existed in the first place) or taylor having a public easy access two way interaction social media account (jesus could you imagine) but she built the fanbase on the early days of social media as a child. She was doing canny marketing of course but she also has admitted to being a lonely kid and kind of treated swifties as a friend group in itself. She would keep up with us through social media and invite us over her house to check out her new music and send us christmas presents and comment on our instagrams and for all the cynical calculations involved there was a real earnestness and vulnerability naturally involved in that that leads to a SUPER complicated and unique fan experience and relationship compared to other stars of her caliber. Swifties are famously strange and intense but one thing that people outside of that circle dont totally understand is that it feeds off of taylors extremely strange and intense energies. I remember when ttpd and specifically bdilh dropped and the backlash came with it, there was a few posts talking about how taylor would communicate and treat fans back in the red era, spending hours and hours after shows to meet hundreds of fans, staying in close contact with us and constantly communicating and almost obsessively showing her love and how that taylor would hate current taylor and i remember reading that and thinking, that 23 year old taylor is the reason we have 34 year old taylor having a complete meltdown as fan and public pressure reached its true boiling point with her dating a shitty guy in her friend group who she had a nothing situationship with 10 years earlier that she rewrote and romanticized in her head to cope with her dissolving ltr and as soon as she even considered launching him everyone had dug up every possible piece of dirt that was previously ignored and demanded she break up with him on the spot.

I really don't hold much anger towards fans who understandably hated and felt betrayed by taylor dating such an obviously shitty person with a past of racist edgelord "jokes" and a fetish for getting people mad at him, but i also cant imagine being taylor swift and trying to go through my "we're in love and its meant to be" rebound that is usually only known and embarrassing to a small group of friends and having it projected to the entire world while im fully having a massive mental breakdown while on the most important tour of my career and the culmination of my entire body of work up to that point and i have already had years of a famously volatile and intense fandom as well as only being a few years out of my controlling contract etc etc etc i would also date a guy specifically to piss off the people important to me and write a song about how we're soooo in love just to spite everyone. also "im having his baby...no im not but you should see your faces!" is one of the funniest things shes ever said. I am a little drunk so i am not sure how comprehensible that is but i agree id be THRILLED if she brought that complicated friction of ttpd to ts12 i love hearing her sing about it! It is unfailingly interesting when taylor sings about Us, its what a lot of my favorite songs of hers are about.

[number1villainstan]

I FINALLY finished the backlog of Frankenstein Weekly last night at 1am (deadass), which means now it's time to start on the massive backlog of Dracula Daily in my inbox. But I also have some Thoughts:

ELIZABETH. ELIZABETH MY BABY. I thought she didn't want to be married to Victor before this reread and I'm absolutely sure she didn't want to marry Victor now. She tries to comfort Victor on the ride to the honeymoon cottage not by saying stuff like 'hey, we're married now! Celebrate!' but 'look at all of the beautiful things out in nature! Look at the lake and the plants and the animals!' And although I say she tries to comfort Victor, I think she's actually trying to comfort herself--her personal worst case scenario has come true, and she's trying to comfort herself in this terrible moment where she's now married and truly bound to someone who she doesn't love and who doesn't love her as a person, just an object, by looking outside and comforting herself in the fact that nature is still beautiful and that the world still goes on despite her misfortune---ironically enough a massive contrast to how Victor wallows in his own despair without even trying to see the good that still exists in the world outside of his little circle.

In the very last chapter, when the Creature shows up and talks to Walton, he kind of mirrors some of Victor's earlier language, and insists that he's had the worst time of it ever of anyone, that he's had the most pain, in a similar way to Victor insisting that he's the one who's suffered the most in human history ever. Some of the self-centeredness of the father being passed down to the son here? Wallowing in his own despair and pain the same way that Victor did? We all love the Creature in this fandom, I'm sure, he's a sweetheart who didn't deserve anything that happened to him, but that doesn't mean that he's automatically a saint.

Soooo, Victor built the first Creature...and the first Creature is implied to be able to reproduce by Victor, soooo...like...what was he thinking? Did Victor really give the Creature sex organs? Would he actually be fertile? Whose sperm is it?? [Similar questions arise with the uncompleted second Creature.] <- This is less about the characters or themes of the book and more about hypothetical worldbuilding/science-y questions, but apparently brain death doesn't exist in the universe of Frankenstein (because Mary Shelley didn't know about it) so like...possibly these are not super fruitful questions

You could write an essay--or a series of essays--or maybe even a book on how Mary Shelley uses beauty and ugliness in her work, and what that might reveal about her own prejudices. Especially with the Creature's looks being what 'inspires' people to drive him away/be so scared of him, and I think I remember Victor saying something about how the Creature was beautiful to him before it was truly animated. And Elizabeth's beauty, and the beauty of the natural scenes...

There's also the question of the Creature's humanity. He was made from human parts, by a human, in the shape of a human; he can speak like a human; he thinks like a human; and yet he has been cast out from human society and, at least in his own mind, is hated by any human who even looks at him. Does he count as human? Is it fair to call him a monster or a Creature? Is it accurate? If he's not human, what is he? If he is human, what makes him human? Might you call him a zombie? What about something similar to a cyborg, or an android? These questions are especially pertinent to someone like me: very very queer, definitely neurodivergent, and with little attachment to my own humanity (and a mild obsession with monsters of all kinds). If the Creature is human, does that mean that I am human? If the Creature fails to be human, do I fail to be human?

Ironically enough, it seems like in the same end scene I mentioned in 2, Walton--although refusing to look at the Creature for its (informed?) hideousness--doesn't reject the Creature for its looks, but for its crimes as reported by Victor and confessed to by the Creature itself. In some ways, this is a just rejection; do not murderers and monsters deserve to be punished for their actions? And yet we cannot forget how the Creature was neglected by Victor and how he was rejected unjustly by strangers time and time again. What is justice here? What would be just? How do we recompense a victim who is also a perpetrator? How do we help someone who is hurting after they've hurt others?

I've got a oneshot idea percolating in my brain, a canon divergence thing that's set during the time where Victor is outside the cottage and Elizabeth is waiting inside, and when the Creature comes in she originally mistakes him for Victor (not looking at him) and they end up talking. There's also a part with her giving him her veil, so that his features are less defined (making him less likely to be automatically rejected based on his looks) near the end, and while what happens after is going to be left ambiguous--it's not the focus of that (currently unwritten) piece--I like to think it's happy. I'm also hoping to at least write up an outline for that oneshot today, if not the whole thing, because I'm Like That as a writer.

[unohanadaydreams]

[tw selfcest] oh i am SOOOO glad my mayuri sex machine ask inspired such a great discussion! part of me honestly feels like mayuri would create some android version of you that he does literal life-threatening things to, or deeply immoral things (removing its voicebox? increasing the pain receptors?) that he cannot do to you as you are a squishy shinigami. alternatively, he probably gets you to have sex with it in front of him.

LISTEN. Mayuri would absolutely do this.

Sexually, he can dole out to a shinigami. That is part of his freak nasty persona, after all. But the knowledge that he loves you? Absolute forbidden fruit. Any baring of soul involves you getting so close you're practically sewed under his skin. This man has not learned lessons on approaching love post-Nemu for the better. But for the worse.

And pre-TYBW, I don't think he would even need an android or mod-soul replacement of you. He could just get away with it. A singular solider going missing is easy to wave away suspicion on if done with any finesse. Seireitei is not a system that cares THAT much about gore until it clogs the cogs of their machine enough that it's noticed and must be cleaned. (Finding out Mayuri went on trial during SAFWY for putting bombs in his soldiers is so funny because he suffers no discernible consequence)

But post-TYBW, there would be more accountability, I think. Kyoraku & Nanao are very built up as a more future-forward leadership. And really, he's only going to want a replacement of you when he's too far gone emotionally.

He can't just admit you've been on his mind all day and have you walk out into the world, able to repeat that knowledge to anyone. You can't just live your own life, separate from him, once you know--and more importantly, once he admits to himself--that he wants and needs you. Mayuri fucking short circuits with the reality of you, a person with autonomy and your own life, have an irrational hold over him. He couldn't even handle having tender feelings for the test tube daughter he reared to have almost no life outside of him!!!

Like, Mayuri already translates his internal suffering into physical suffering unto others, per canon (physically punishing Nemu for his insecurity). So, Mayuri keeping a copy of you to confide in and then punish you for being the one he confides in checks out 1000%.

Having feelings for you is a punishment. So punishment will be your replacement's life.

He's flipping through tomes of ancient torture techniques like they're bed time stories so you can fully feel dread for the what's in store the next day. He is thinly justifying to himself (still! even now!) that he's simply experimenting. Improving upon the old. Updating the past to current standards.

Also Mayuri getting you to have sex with your replacement......like the desperation your replacement feels, absolutely lavishing you in pleasure because you're the first and only person to do the same without punishment. They've only known Mayuri, in practicality. Your attention and care is a blessed first. I think Mayuri would really get off on that--that even your replacement is desperate for you. Like that makes wanting you more logical. That he isn't the only one starved for you.

Anyway! :) I agree and will be thinking such normal thoughts today.

[percyjacksonscookies]

dude imma say it

the percy jackson tv show sucks so bad

and I have a lot of time to think at work when im not busy with my little tasks so imma rant about it

because my little brain likes to look for connections i guess

anyway

IT SUCKS SOOOOOO BAAAAAAD HOLY

S H I T

its a giant mix of things because of where we are in time

every major piece of media is a huge reflection of the times we live in so uh

it makes sense that this would suck too like every single other piece of media disney has released in the past decadeish (it comes down to taste so if u like a Disney thing, whatever)

but like?!?!

because of the times we live in where writers had to strike for better wages and a semblance of recognition (i dont know the terms exactly) it makes sense that they gave ol' Ricky boy a shot at screen writing cause they didn't really have to take a chance with a new writer. cause u know disney! wherever there are corners to be cut they will! gotta think of the poor ol' bottom line!!

BUT ALSO RICK RIORDAN'S QUALITY IN WRITING WENT DOWN S O HARD AFTER HIS FIRST SERIES WITH PERCY

heroes of Olympus and trials of Apollo do not have the same flavor as the original series and I know plenty of people will agree with me

and thats cause ol' ricky boy (might call him uncle rick ironically cause I have a big family so its in character of me to have beef with an uncle plus like.... cmon its for the bit, an homage to my cringey younger self, and to help me avoid stupid autocorrect on my phone, it works on so many levels, if u must, cringe away) lost the fucking heart of the original series

lost the whole point and charm of the 1st series

it started out as a fucking bed time story for his son for fucks sake!!!!!! so obviously it was going to be a story built on so much love you could feel it in every word he carefully knit together for his son to feel less alone in the world

and thats why I looked up to him for so many years!!!!

he inspired me to start writing!!! so that maybe some day I could also write stories that helped people feel less alone

because the best fucking stories are the ones with the most heart and genuine emotions you feel like you could be there

but uncle rick fucking lost it because i think after the massive success of his first series he saw it as a way to make money for his family instead of a way to lovingly craft something for the sake of it just existing

yet another thing capitalism has taken from us

I have yet to read his other work, as an adult, because percy jackson is such a comfort book for me and I've obsessively done so much research on it I remember him doing an interview once where he said his students found his other works and they were teasing him about the cuss words in the book because of course they were he taught middle schoolers and that is where he is stronger than I

but thats also another thing

since I haven't read his other works, I dont know if they're going to speak to me like percy jackson has, but probably not from the looks of his other series (ive read all of heroes of Olympus and some of trials of Apollo but thats just cause I adore nico)

but I can definitely say for sure without a shadow of a doubt

dude

uncle rick is NOT a screen writer

he SUCKS at it so bad

he definitely doesn't know how to build suspense in film or write around the obstacles that come with live acting

which is embarrassing man

ive been there

did a senior directed play in high school, wrote the script myself

and it sucked pretty bad

because I was a story teller not a script writer!!!! I didnt know what the fuck i was doing!!!!! whenever I wanted a new character I would just invent one out of thin air, what do you mean I had to have an actor for every new character I have?!?!?!?!

soooo grateful i tried that for the first time in high school cause its not that embarrassing when u suck at something as a teenager cause hey!!! ur learning new shit everyday!!

but this ties back into my point of this show reflecting the times

I will say, I prefer the movie of percy jackson over this weird show

and thats cause it had charm! zest! a screenwriter and people that knew how to make movies!

were at such a weird place in cinema

at least in the mainstream american/western media

I saw everything everywhere all at once last year and it blew my tits clean off

but thats because it was made by people who wanted to make art for arts sake!!!! for the love of creation!!!!!

thats why those movies are so successful now

cause there's really no formula to follow anymore so anything that seems original and made with love is so fucking insanely successful and big corporations can't fucking replicate that without taking chances and letting people tell honest earnest stories

which is why every Disney villain sucks now cause they have to also secretly maybe sometimes be a good person

oh no the circumstances they were given made them a villain

hmmm I wonder who helped with the capitalism of it all?? hmmmm such a mystery

I know we all miss when villains were just evil for fun and that was it

like Ursula, they didn't explain shit about her backstory she was just a woman in a cave that had a reputation and had a sick as hell design and that was all people needed to like her (shout out to divine) (also I don't remember much about the little mermaid I am basing this off of vibes)

where was i going with this.....

anyways the pjo TV show sucks

let Rick Riordan cook longer as a screen writer or let him be a co author of the script my god he sucks at this

get an expert screen writer in there asap phew!!!

today's adhd rant has been brought to you by:

this thing

[velvetporcelain]

It’s always like- “where’s my phone?”📱 and not- “where’s my pocket diary?” 📔 -discuss.

I no longer call this my phone. 📱

It’s my pocket diary. As it should be- 📱📔

Everything I need and want to say is written and left here. I never really go back and doom scroll through my writing. It’s left here to be floating here. Like useless space trash. 🚮 🪐

And I’m totally okay with surrounding myself with my own dignity. I don’t know how I made it through my twenties without some type of diary. But then again I was an avid Facebook user and that is basically a journal in itself. Soooo 2000’s. 📱👀

If I can get my mind to think of social media as I do this void then I can probably document my life in the way I want it documented.

Please, yes, judge me. I get off on the shock value of a judgment. —> in some sadistic way when I’m judged it makes me feel seen and alive. And then I cry about it in order to learn more about myself. More ways to be judged because I want more and more and more. I want to be a Warhol on your wall type vibes.

I feel like a vampire to be honest. I’m a good woman who’s addicted to self sabotage to feel alive. I’m not broken because I was never even built. Like- tell me when you first felt like you were actually building who you are according to what you’re meant to be. Experiencing and free.

I do not give the pleasure of judgment that people seek just like me. Judgments are so incredibly powerful. I will not give people mine because I need them more than you. And you don’t even know how much you need them too. Who gets to decide anyways? Me. I do. You choose yours too.

I am able to separate from taking responsibility for their feelings. You know the things that create their judgments. I am no longer sorry that they feel the need to judge me. I am not here for your pain. I’m here for pleasure.

I can only help one through the judgment process. Because I think we just don’t know how to constructively build from a judgment. No matter what kind. Because let’s face it, a compliment IS also a judgment. Is it not?

I know there are therapists, life coaches, doctors etc out there that hold the knowledge it takes to understand human psychology. I am delusionaly convinced that I can help people in a much deeper way. 😆 I don’t know what the way is yet, but I feel my methods are going to be something never seen before. And it’s gonna work. Haha. I’m laughing.

Yes. What a beautiful pocket diary I have. It’s full of my favorite music anywhere I go. I have this amazingly vivid blog account, where I account and accept myself fully. I am able to text or call all my favorite people in this entire world, literally. So 🔥 I think the cellphone was the greatest man made invention. They are what I dreamed of the future being like. The same but just more ways to connect, move and interact. The depictions of the future are always my favorite but when I think of future, some how I’m always thinking back to the 1950s-1960s retro nostalgia.

So I think the future is just the past learning from its mistakes automatically making our future. Again, stays the same, but more connections, movement and interaction.

And that’s all life is. Picking up our past and creating the future right in front of us. Therefore meaning that the only “life path” is the one behind us. There is no yellow brick road.

What you need, you have to borrow. Make sense? There is no future to borrow from. We must be the unrealized idea. Because that is what the future is, an unrealized idea.

Today? I was the first one up and I got to spend quality ass time on my office floor with my two favorite men. My cats 🙈🥰🥰😆 Gary is my little angry demon, and I love when he lays on top of my chest like the king he is. His ears turn outward and sharp. He lets his eye coverings cover only half is eye, he is purring like a dragon and I love taking in the Hz frequencies. My other guy is my baby and I let him get a little rough with me and bite me and scratch my hoodie sleeves in hopes he would feel like the baddest African lion. I let him hunt and kill my arm. I don’t mind the pain, and my mom chopped off the tips of his from paws (declawed) him. Ugh so get me started on that—. It was amazing connecting and enduring the now.

I cleaned my entire house with my daughter’s headphones on feeling no animosity or anger towards my home. 🏡

Now- here I am. Self sabotaging with cigarettes, but- but- baby- it’s okay all the best writers smoke cigarettes in order to be able to endure the deep thought process. 💋

I’ll be fine. I’ll quit soon. 🔜 as I stop thinking.

-x

[rbl-m1a2tanker]

Droppin some thoughts (is long)

So, I've got some thoughts I want to send out.  Things that have been percolating in the back of my mind for a long while.  Some folks may not agree with them, which is fine, you're allowed to think differently from me of course.  But if it bothers you to the point of anger or being offended, you've got bigger problems and should really look deep within yourself.  Or don't.  I mean, I'm not your dad, can't make you do anything.  :P

But as I was saying.  

Change is inevitable, for good or bad.  Society has been changing since time immemorial.  It's just part of human nature that things will change and adapt and co-opt as new information or awareness becomes part of our social fabric.  There are people who will dig in their heels or stomp their feet and scream and fight against it, sometimes even violently.  There are people who will grind their teeth and grouse that we're not going far enough.  And then there's everyone else that's between that.  It's a bell curve.  Most of us probably reside in that middle area for most subjects, and may lean further in one direction or the other on specific things.  

Those specific things are pretty hot button items, exacerbated and built up far more as forms of dog whistles, misdirection, bad faith arguing, whataboutism, fear mongering and outright hate.  Things like:

Gun Control Abortion Trans-gender people Gay people Ableism 'wokeism'

Some of you may already be getting your hackles up just at the mentions.  :P And some of you may be ready to cry out that I'm some liberal pinko communist twinkle-toe hippie (or some variation of that) on what I'm going to say about those subjects above, but let's get this out of the way first: I do not identify as Liberal or Conservative.  Maybe Progressive, but I don't know as much about that particular leaning as I probably should, so I won't swear to that one. What I am is very much anti-authoritarian assholes, regardless of which direction they lean, such as Republican or Democrat in the US.  I'm also pragmatic and a historian.  I'll come back to that last bit in a moment.  Let me just break into each of those subjects above with quick snippets of my thoughts.

Wokeism: first off, what the hell stupid shit is that?  'You're too WOKE!'  Soooo...you want to be 'asleep' and basically be a 'sheep' who follows blindly?  That sounds amazingly dumb.  And kinda dangerous.  Here's the thing: we have a greater awareness of things than we did before, and we're more plugged in to what's going on in the world than we did before.   This is a GOOD thing.  To be a good citizen and member of society, you need to be aware of not just what's going on locally, but also nationally, cause the national shenanigans that take place can and will affect you locally too.  So people claiming things like the US military is too 'woke' is...god, so facepalm worthy.  The military is a reflection of our society, and in more pragmatic terms, they what to make sure that they have an effective fighting force, which  means you need to draw from as large a pool of recruits as you can.  The US military though is incredibly resistent to change (looking at you, Marines).  So calling them 'woke' is stupid.  The term in general is stupid.  And frankly, some of the things that people who are anti-woke are going on about are things that should actually be considered courteous.  

That leads to the subjects of trans-gender and gay people.  More people are comfortable coming out and owning what they feel they are.  I personally don't feel that way, and I straight up don't understand it, but I also don't have a problem with it.  You know why?  Because ITS NOT ABOUT ME.  Let them do their own thing.  They want to date someone of the same sex, knock yourself out.  You feel your brain is wired in a way that makes you uncomfortable in your skin and so changing yourself physically is the only way to correct it?  Well, I don't get it and personally feel it's kinda odd or weird, but I'm also coming from a position of being comfortable in my skin and my sexuality, so I cannot truly internalize what it's like to think or feel that way.  

But I can be courteous.  I can accept that this is a thing you did or are doing.  Its not my thing, but then, it's not about me.  It's about them.  So, I'm at least aware of it and if I misstep and use a wrong pronoun or make a joke that doesn't come across right, then I just need to be corrected and I will do my best to adjust myself.  It's courteous, it's polite, and it's respectful.  Because, again, it's not about me.  I'm going to screw up.  I've been on this planet 43 years now, so I've got a lot of engrained behaviors in place.  It's going to happen, usually when I'm not thinking about it.  I acknowledge this, but I also accept that I can adjust myself too.  It's just gunna take time and practice.  I can do that.  Cause there's nothing wrong with being courteous.  I don't have to understand it to be able to take it in stride and adjust course.  Maybe I won't even like it, but...it really doesn't matter if I like it or not.  In the end, it's a non-issue, or at least should be treated as such.  

On the subject of Ableism, I don't really understand that very well, which is something I will try to dig into further to come to grips with it, but my initial thought is that our position should be the same as above: be respectful and courteous.  Don't mistreat someone just because you don't agree with or like what they are.  Seems like common sense to me, but common sense is just not as common as one would think (and probably varies greatly depending on your area and what everyone there thinks is common sense).  

Now, on Abortion and Gun Control, here's where my historian background comes into play a bit.  

Did you know that the NRA used to help craft gun control legislation?  Yea, that organization that lobbies soooo very hard to stop any attempts at gun control ever since the time of Charlton Heston and Columbine, used to be totally in favor of it and helped to make it happen (until gun companies had their own people get leadership positions and wrenched the organization away from a focus of responsible gun ownership and more into a shield for the gun industry).  And Abortion?  That also wasn't a problem decades ago.  But now both have been made into massive issues by interests that like to either protect their profit margins, or to stir the pot and clamp down on peoples autonomy.  

My thoughts: we do need to have an actual conversation and do deeper research when it comes to gun control.  Because I feel that there should be some in place, and the Supreme Court has even confirmed that at times.  Hell, I wrote a paper on it in college making that point.  But we have to have that conversation, come to some concensus about certain aspects of firearms, instead of just screaming "NO! MY SECOND AMENDMENT!" (slightly exaggerating the reaction).  And abortion is something that is a very deeply personal situation that should really only involve the principles involved (aka the potential parents) and that the option shouldn't be restricted or taken away, cause most of the opposition to it is religious based (and they really don't seem to care what happens to the child and parent after the child is born..hmm, interesting).  If you take that option away, they're just going to find a way to do it anyway.  And it'll probably be a lot more dangerous.  

Am I equating those two subjects as being similar?  No.  Am I hypocrtical in saying we should be more restrictive with guns but less so on abortion?  "If they're just going to get an abortion anyway, then if you restrict guns they'll just get it anyway and make themselves criminals!"  That's a bad faith argument right there.  They're two very different subjects that require their own specificly crafted solutiona, and conflating the two and claiming I'm being hypocritical is a bullshit argument to make.  And conviently ignores my points as a way to be dismissive of them and not actually try to work on solutions to the benefit of society.

Am I going to provide sources for these things?  Honestly, not in depth.  But here's one quick example for the gun control and abortion bits: "The NRA assisted Roosevelt in drafting the 1934 National Firearms Act and the 1938 Gun Control Act, the first federal gun control laws" - time.com

On abortion, from wikipedia (not a primary source, but does have a decent bibliography to good sources that go more in depth if you want): "Abortion has existed in North America since the European colonization of the Americas,[21] was a fairly common practice, and was not always illegal or controversial.[22][23] " [21] = article Abortion in early America [22] = book When Abortion Was a Crime: Women, Medicine and the Law in the United States, 1867-1973 [23] = article The complex early history of abortion in the United States - National Geographic

To sum up: people should be allowed to live their lives without being hassled or restricted based on things like religious beliefs (which you can have, but YOUR religious belief does not and should not dictate what goes on in my life or anyone elses).  

Also, evangenlicals, shut up about being 'oppressed.' You're not being oppressed, get over yourselves and stop playing at being a victim.  I don't see any of you being arrested and shoved in any camps, or followed and hassled by cops just because you go to church.  

Just treat people respectfully, courteously, and politely.  You don't have to agree with their decision, but it doesn't matter if you agree or not.  It's not YOUR life, it's theirs.  But if you attempt to force your beliefs on others, you're in the wrong.  Period.  And frankly, if you don't want to be around them...don't?  It's not that difficult to just...not be around them?  They probably don't want to be around you either.  And if they're an asshole, then definitely don't be around them.  Otherwise, just don't worry about it.  

Last note: I have pretty much written all this off the cuff and have not shown it to others to get their thoughts in advance, or dug around for sources beyond the quick ones I dropped up above.  This is the 'raw and unedited' version. :P Take it or leave it.  

No TL/DR version.  I'm lazy at this point and don't wanna try to sum it up.  

[carcass-confessions]

first up in my list of super cool mega awesome important trans and gnc is Celia Katherine Somerset, the main character of a horror thing im vaguely working on, the current title is Tales From Beyond the Sunflower Fields but im considering changing it to Tales From Below the Bay for reasons,, anyways shes like. the sole researcher of some weird liminal supernatural world built on top of ours that deals with some time dilation shenanigans and whatnot (and i was totally inspired by bioshock infinite so her main tie to the supernatural is what she calls starshifter syndrome, which in very basic terms means that she will occasionally just blip into an adjacent but nearly identical reality seemingly at random and the one thing that is noticeably different across ALL realities is the precise positioning of the stars in the sky)

2. Gladys, AKA The Bleach Witch, AKA The Witch of the Laundromat, is like one of the first new characters Celia meets in TFBTSF, and theyre what celia calls a Strukture, which is like. ok so. in this world, if enough people die in a building or if a building has some other miscellaneous Anomalous Properties, a Strukture has the potential to be born. they have pretty much the same physical strength as your average human, maybe SLIGHTLY more, but they usually have something Off about them that shows they arent... human. Depending on the circumstances of the building, a Strukture may come out a lil more monstrous, but Gladys' only anomalous qualities are that anything they touch is bleached, so they wear a lot of white (particularly a white sweater is their signature look) to blend in better. love gladys, my friends keep going absolutely feral for them

3. Serra Mun. catboy witch baker with a cherry motif. nuff said. yall get me.

4. Nova Eliane Jones, sun witch, absolutely adore her, one of few (actually i have a lot) characters without any severe trauma that completely breaks a character down for the sake of an Arc. just a really fun character to make picrews of for me <3

its now 6 am somehow soooo ill finish "tomorrow" because i have a lot more characters than i thought,,,

Soooo I really have no idea fully how the tumblr ecosystem works and idk who would even benefit from hearing this, but

I'm still pretty new here (a lil under 2 months since i joined). Apparently, as ive discovered from a lot of posts on my dash, every awful change that's been made was with the intent of bringing in new people like myself.

I hate the layout on desktop. I can only tolerate the layout on mobile (although idk if it was changed at all because I haven't seen as much about it.

Besides a couple cool people I've met here, the (and I can't emphasize this enough) ONLY thing that's keeping me here is the naive hope that eventually whatever person or team that's in charge of keeping the site Running and providing Fun Updates finally realizes that everything that's been changed has totally removed the things that, in my experience, drew people to the platform at all in the first place, and change it back.

I've never used twitter, Instagram, tiktok, or reddit because the formatting and aggressive ecosystems (mostly follower counts and all that, and also generally being perceived so intensely) drove me away, but of course I finally make a tumblr and wouldn't you know it I joined right when the desktop format was made identical to twitter

side note whats uhhh,, whats up with the nsfw bots? i thought yall didnt like nsfw??? why are there nameless boobies following me in my notifications????

[bonded-by-love-and-hatred]

So, I’ve been listening to an SCP podcast lately. I’m no expert on the SCP world or anything, buuuuut I had the idea that “what if Wayne Enterprises contained some of these top secret facilities?” I mean, a multi-billion dollar company could easily hide and fund such a thing. And Gotham being Gotham, it kinda makes sense? Gotham would be like a breeding ground for this kinda stuff lol.

Like could you imagine Arkham Asylum being a sorta sentient building sending out mindless orderlies/guards to kidnap people who are driven insane by the building? It lets people go to wreak havoc upon the city and ultimately bring more people in, ‘cause how else are the inmates always getting out??

Idk, I just think it’s a cool idea.

And, of course, being the Wayleska/Valeyne lover that I am, I’ve had to connect the two. Soooo, under the cut is a little concept fic I wrote just now about it.

"Oh, Bruce." That voice. A whisper in the noise. A bellow in the quiet. A melody in their dreams. A shriek in their nightmares. Like honey and silk. Like ice and chemicals. Familiar and strange.

"Brucey, darlin'." A deep, raspy mimic of the other. Louder, grander, with discord in the melody. Instead of ice and chemicals at its core, there was fire and electricity.

"Long time no see." Together, a harmony luring you into a trap. To your doom.

And the boy they worshipped and put up on a pedestal made of rotting flesh and bone, grown so much from the time they first met, stood frozen at the sounds of their voices. Eyes wide with images of ginger hair, freckled skin, and wide smiles. With memories of knives and blood, mazes and generators, shared hugs and kisses and tears. Conversations and promises made what seemed a lifetime ago echoed through his head. Until he crumpled under it all.

Ecco, fighting off her own memory-filled trance, fell to her knees in front of Bruce, pulling his quivering body into her arms. Huddled together, hiding their faces, clinging to one another, blocking out the world, she chanted the same old lie: "It'll be okay."

I may expand upon this, but there’s so many things already lol. The basic idea I have right now is just: Thomas and Martha’s deaths were SCP-related, and Bruce is devoted to containing and learning about every anomaly he comes across. I can’t really decide if the twins should be like humanoids from the very beginning, and now they’ve built this deep connection so Bruce can’t let go. Or if the twins died because of some entity that now taunts Bruce with the memory of them. Or maybe I’ll leave that all ambiguous, who knows? I don’t.

This is just a concept I wanted to share and can’t promise I’ll do more with. I would like to! But idk if it’ll ever happen. I’ll probably get lost in my research of the SCP world and never get around to writing anything. ‘Tis the way of life, I’m afraid.

Please let me know what you think!! <3

[crankityart]

Hc for Viktor as a dad, please please please.

Oooff, right into my heart ;;____;; Okay, get ready for some:

Viktor as a dad headcanons

So, first I think we have to establish what Viktor is like when it comes to children anyway.

Viktor is the kind of person who says that he's terrible with children, considering he barely interacts with any and even as a child himself he had a hard time bonding with anyone his age.

He's pretty awkward around kids, not really knowing what to say or how to behave in front of them. Well, at first at least ...

Turns out, once Viktor warms up to the situation he proofs that he has quite a knack for children. He would bond with them over explaining the world, science and the hex crystals. Kids are naturally very curious and he loves how bold and unashamed they are in asking all kinds of questions.

He likes to take on a teacher or mentor role, it actually comes very naturally to him. (This is something I noticed when I rewatched the "pep talk" scene with Jayce in act 1. He seems to be really good at seeing potential in people and motivating them.)

Soooo, what would he be as a father?

Viktor's main struggle as a father is finding a balance between working and parenting.

On one hand he is basically married to his work, unhealthily dedicated and ambitious on making the world a better place. On the other hand, now he has another living body beside him who he needs to take care of.

He loves his child, there is no doubt about it. Viktor is a very empathatic person, unfortunately with a history that is filled with loneliness. But taking care of another human being cultivates the love and sense of purpose inside him. Now he actually has someone to make the world a better place for. Someone who really needs him. And that is a drive he never had before.

Viktor's favorite way of bonding with his child is building little toys and gadgets together. Or he also really likes to read bedtime stories to them. For Viktor it's very natural to share his interests and it's safe to say that his child will develop a similar passion growing up.

Being a disabled parent definitely has its challenges. Viktor can't do everything other parents are able to and sometimes it's very frustrating for him, since he wants to give his kid the best childhood they can have.

It's always a little chaotic at home. As a single parent Viktor has to handle a lot of obligations at the same time, but his child grows up to be quite self-sufficient because of it, taking over household chores and generally helping their father, when he is especially busy.

And now for some cute, wholesome headcanons. uwu

Sometimes Viktor falls asleep at his desk while working overnight. His child would then put a blanket over his shoulders and make pancakes in the morning.

In case of his kid getting scared at night or having a bad dream, Viktor has built a few gadgets to help them feel more safe, like for example nightlight that would project a beautiful starry sky onto the walls and a music box that plays his kid's favorite lullaby.

Viktor has developed a thing for telling dad jokes over the last years. He thinks they are witty and hilarious, but his kid would just roll their eyes at him.

Viktor tends to be quite forgiving when it comes to his child being a little troublemaker. Of course, there will be scolding for bad behavior and dangerous actions, but if his kid would get in trouble for bringing a box full of lizards to school, he would let them get away with it, probably ending up arguing with the teacher. He's definitely not as strict as other parents when it comes to these things. (I mean, Viktor is a little troublemaker himself. >:)

Viktor loves giving his kid forehead kisses. All the time. In the morning, when they leave for school or before going to bed.

For when his kid is being extra lazy about getting out of bed in the morning, Viktors has a cheeky method that always works: "How about I conduct a little scientific experiment? Let's see how long I have to tickle you until you get up. I'll be counting the seconds, starting ... now! ... 1 ... 2 ..." Needless to say his child will be suddenly very awake and not so lazy anymore. >:)

Viktor isn't a great cook, but his kid loves it when he makes his signature sweet milk French toast. With sprinkles of course!

A/N: Thank you for this request, that was so much fun. ;;w;;

[crybabykiko]

Szn’s Creamings

Miya Osamu x Fem!Reader

Warnings: oof a lot sorry- eggnog(its delicious and you’re all just mean), corruption if you squint, clandestine sex I guess? Choking, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), nipple play, the Miya accent, improper use of Christmas decorations, bondage, unprotected sex(you should know to expect this from my writing by now), vaginal penetration, squirting, creampies/breeding, use of the word daddy like ONCE, cum eating, a dash of overstim for optimal flavor, ahegao (😌) aaaaand snowballing (aka spitting cum in someone’s mouth) swearing obviously ummmmm shit man idk anymore I’m 999% sure that’s it- good shit below da cut

Wc: 2.5k

A/N: Merry Christmas to those who celebrate, and a VERY Happy Holiday no matter your culture’s festivities! This is part of my collab with my lovely friends in The Sewer Server- @rat-suki ty anu for organizing it all! I’m love u. This fic was written in an eggnog & fireball induced  blackout, and is singlehandedly fueled by lust for Osamu’s Dorito body and my love for Steak n’ Shake.

Cheese-on’s Greetings Collab mlist here 🎄🎁🐁

“This... is it?” He cocked an eyebrow at the concoction, the red and green sprinkles bleeding dye into the whipped cream, the sad cherry on top sunken into it. 

“This is what you’ve been goin’ on about fer the last 3 weeks?” 

This- was an eggnog milkshake. A wintertime classic, and a staple at the local diner in your hometown. Simple enough. It didn’t look like much- in fact, it honestly wasn't. But to you, this shitty, artificially-flavored diner milkshake encompassed all the joys of holiday magic into one tall, frosted glass. You could count the years you spent in this diner, knocking them back. You’ve grown of course, but the nostalgia always stays the same. Having Osamu come to your hometown for the holidays was a pretty big step in your relationship, sure, but including him in the milkshake tradition usually reserved for your best friend? That was even bigger. 

“You haven’t even taken a sip, you ass,” you giggled, putting your own straw to your lips, reveling in the cool flavor that was coating your tongue. Pure sugar, just a hint of nutmeg and cinnamon- perfect as always. You pushed the glass over to him, urging him to try for himself. He took in a large drink, letting it rest before clicking his tongue a few times and looking over at your eyes- eyes that were aglow with anticipation and gingerbread men? No, that was just the reflection of the gaudy tinsel that adorned the booth you sat in. 

“Soooo?” 

“Not bad,” he sighed, pushing the glass back your way. Always anticlimactic. 

“But I could definitely make one that’s better.”

“I’d like to see you try,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes at him. 

One thing you knew he could never resist was a challenge. Grabbing his wallet, he slammed some bills on the table, whisking you away from the diner in 2 minutes flat, the milkshake an ever present memory, like that of the favorite Christmas gift from childhoods passed. You didn’t think he’d take it that seriously, but you also knew that Osamu took everything- especially food- seriously.

Even still, the drive back to your parents’ was a calm one, like every night adventure. The only difference was the bitter cold in the air, and the soft crooning of songs about Santa Claus on the radio. The only thing was- you just couldn’t stop pressing your thighs together….

“Put it away, sir.” you said jokingly, shifting your current position on the couch. Miracle on 34th Street shown on the small screen of the television as you flicked through what seemed like every Christmas movie ever made with the remote.  The feeling of his cock starting to stiffen at your back told you everything you needed to know; that Osamu wasn’t interested in whether or not Santa Claus was real, or  whatever the ‘true’ meaning of Christmas was- he was solely interested in the meaning of that which currently resided between your legs. 

A sneaky had drifted under your shirt, breath hitching in your throat as his thick fingers rolled one of your nipples, the soft tugging leaving you mewling as the sensation traveled down to your now throbbing clit. You leaned into it for a split second, but you were bought back to reality by the sight of your family’s Christmas photos on the fireplace mantle. There was no way in hell you could get fucked in front of a photo of your grandmother. You swatted Osamu’s hand away.

“We can NOT do this right now-” your words fell on deaf ears as  his hand snaked up your thigh, leaving a trail of warmth in  its wake as he settled them right above your stomach, fiddling with the drawstrings of your shorts. 

“My mom and dad are literally upstairs….” The words left your mouth faintly your body lurching toward him.

Again, you tried. A valiant attempt. It wasn’t a lie- they most certainly were upstairs, presumably fast asleep, as they had been up there for almost two hours now, leaving you and Osamu to watch a few corny Christmas movies- or so they thought. But he saw through your objections. Hearing the way your voice softened, seeing how your chest wavered as he got closer and closer to your face, he simply couldn’t contain himself. 

“It’s not my fault ‘ya wanted to stay here,” he huffed, large hands seizing your own, pushing away their protests as he passed his thumb up and down your clothed slit. You bit your lip in an effort to silence the moan that was bubbling its way up and out of your mouth. You had started to become feverish, your own state of vulnerability apparent as Osamu used one arm to pin your wrists above your head, sending your lower half flailing and bucking up into his free hand as you whimpered desperately for his touch.

“You want it, don’t ya, little love?” Little love. The one pet name you could never resist. Almost like a switch, you moaned a particularly needy, not-so-hushed “hmmhm- yes, daddy,” that definitely would have blown your cover. Luckily, Osamu’s thick fingers worked their way into your mouth to silence you, your lips immediately wrapping around them and obediently sucking to heed his words.

“Just be s’quiet as possible,” his hushed tone came out in a low baritone. He pressed a finger to his lips, pointing another up toward the ceiling from the couch of your parents living room. 

Keeping your arms restrained, your boyfriend’s free hand pushed past your layers of clothes, your saliva coated his fingers, providing just enough slickness to enter your hole with ease, gently curling against that soft spot right inside. You were so warm, so needy, easily molding into his touch as he watched your eyes widen within his. You fixed your mouth to open, but it hung there as his fingers worked, your cunt sucking  them in manically. 

“F-fuck,” you could barely manage that. “Please I-hmph- please…”

“Use yer words, little love,” he cooed, the tone of his voice was sickeningly slow as he teased you, slowing his fingers down. You bucked your hips in protest, pouting and wiggling underneath him to feel some form of friction.

“Stop Squirmin’.” His demeanor shifted immediately, darkening at your perceived disobedience. The hands that held your wrists met your throat, a half gasp escaping you as he gently squeezed, your face softening into a pout. 

“I said- use yer words.”

“Please, please fuck me,” you squeaked. “F-fill me up.”

“Then we gotta find a way t’keep ya nice n’ still. Will you be good fer me?”

You nodded. You always were. Osamu’s ability to render you a compliant, malleable toy for him to fuck was astounding. You could spend the rest of your life being his obedient little thing without a care in the world or a complaint.

“I know ya will,” he pressed a kiss to your lips. “My little love’s always s’good…” 

You knew you were in for it- but you didn’t expect this. It was a little different from your normal setup, but at the same time, the rush of excitement built in the pit of your stomach just as it did the first time ‘Samu ever bound you. It just so happened that there were some discarded lights nearby the Christmas tree. You could see the glimmer of an idea in his eyes as he plugged them in, smiling as the glow lit up his face. He looked at you on the couch and wiggled his eyebrows- as much as you wanted to laugh out loud, you weren’t in the position to be picky about your rigging tonight. You had to make do. 

“It’s…. festive?” You could tell that even he was amused. But amusement aside, the desire that built between you, the stored tension of having not touched each other for almost two days now was clearly screaming to be addressed. His large hands made a bite in the wiring of the lights and they quickly found themselves around your wrists, the illumination beautiful, but also kind of blinding this close to your face. With a kiss to your lips, he moved from your wrists and down toward your torso, trailing an interesting track of holiday cheer into a harness around your chest and tying in your back. Your arms were bent forward at the elbow, snugly enough so that you could wiggle your fists, but your wrists were of no use.

 Pushing you onto your knees, you felt the press of your boyfriend’s hand against your back as he repositioned your arms and elbows to place you on all fours. Cool air immediately hit the skin of your lower half as you felt him pull your bottoms off. You wriggled your hips in an effort to help, but instead your flesh was met with an aggressive strike. Managing to catch your discomfort in your throat, a lowered hiss bared through your gritted teeth, soon followed by a sharpened inhale as you felt the presence of him towering over you. 

“Been thinking about the way those cute lips were wrapped around that straw all night,” he panted, palming his cock through his sweats. You could see how uncomfortably hard he was- it lit a fire in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t wait to serve him, you couldn’t wait to feel the weight of his thick cock against your tongue- and stretching your pussy past it’s limits.

“I bet’cher sweet mouth wrapped around my cock would look even prettier, don’t ya think?” 

His words hit at your core. Your mouth began to water in anticipation as he pulled himself out of his sweats, gently pumping before lining up at your mouth. 

Delicately, your tongue swirled down the slit of the head, plush lips wrapping around the pink bulb. Osamu’s hands guided your head down the length, drool sliding out of your mouth and down your  chin, where it dripped onto your chest, riddled with bright multicolored light. Slowly, he fucked himself with your throat, allowing you to adjust to his girth. 

“Yep,” he exhaled deeply, hissing at how warm your mouth felt around him.

 “Ev’n prettier.”

 His motions sped up as he bobbed your head up and down, the slight saltiness of his precum going down easily, leaving you practically begging for a full load.  You always craved him on your tongue- he tasted much better than any diner milkshake could. The soft gargling of his assault on your throat slowed to a stop as he pulled you off, leaving you gasping for air. Licking the drool from the corners of your lips, Osamu kissed you passionately before throwing your bound body onto the couch.

You clenched haphazardly around his cock as soon as he entered you, head flying forward with the force of his thrusts. His arm held you upright, parallel to his chest as his cock pistoned in and out of your hole. 

“‘S-sa-ah!~ ‘Samu- ffuck!” Your eyes snapped shut as he fucked into you. His breathy grunts resounded deep in your ears, sending jolts of molten lust down your spine, chest heaving as you tried keeping your voices down. Your hot, wet cunt sucked him in deeper and deeper each time he entered you- your urge to milk him for everything he had was only made more apparent by it. 

“I can feel you baby,” He purred into your ear. “So fucking wet.” 

Osamu released you from his hold, letting you fall forward into the couch, one hand pushing your head into the cushions, the other roughly kneading at the flesh where your ass and hip met, digging his nails into the flesh as he began to carnally pound into your pussy. Each stroke hit your sweet spot with a ridiculously precise skill. Your muffled sobs echoed into the cushions of the couch as he drilled you, never once slowing the rate in which his hips snapped into yours. You wouldn’t be surprised if the smacking of his skin against yours woke your parents at this rate- you couldn’t be bothered to care with your orgasm this close to the horizon. 

Somehow you managed to free a hand from your twinkling ties, immediately pushing it to your clit to rub it feverishly. The squelching started up shortly after, your ears beginning to ring as your throat squealed itself raw into the deep void beneath you. Osamu pulled you back by your hair, pressing his lips to your ear and clasping a hand to your mouth.

“Keep rubbing that pretty pussy, sweet girl, so fucking close to cumming fer me, aren’t ya?”

You could only whine in response. He softened the hand on your mouth, muffled words spilling out.

“I’m gonna cu-ah-cum! Please let me cum!” 

“Hmmm? Gonna cum? Did I hear ya right, little love?” He knew what he was doing, egging you on like this.

You were mere milliseconds away from losing it, the edge pulling up to you so close that you could barely collect yourself as you began to feel yourself slip over it- eyes whiting out as Osamu gave you the go-ahead. 

“Just let me c-” he finished your sentence for you.

“Cum.” It was a simple word, a simple command. But the way it hit your ears: the way the low growl tore through your body- you didn't stand a chance. The warm wetness of your release sprayed against his abs, trickling down your thighs and pooling into the upholstery. Your eyes crossed, face contorting further into lewd bliss as a scream tried to escape your mouth- but only silence hiccuped its way out. 

“Good fucking girl- now take this, baby. Take it all…” God, he was the devil. 

Fucking you through it- your boyfriend chased his own high, cock twitching inside as the vision of you wrapped in lights blurring into colorful stars as he spilled into you, his load coating your insides with a mass of sticky, soothing heat. You both collapsed into each other, bodies writhing as you caught your heavy breaths. 

As he slipped out of you, Osamu lifted your hips to his mouth, sucking in the mixture of his and your own release, savoring it on his tongue. Your puffy, fucked-out cunt spasmed at the contact, the sensation overwhelming as you tugged at his steely grey locks, snapping his head back. 

“Hmmph-  s’too much ‘Samu!” Your thighs clamped together as soon as he released you.

Humming a soft apology, he moved up from your lower lips to the upper ones, pushing his tongue past them, spitting arousal across your tongue. You swallowed the mixture greedily, smiling against his lips. You could still feel ropes of cum pouring from your spamming hole and leaking onto your thighs.

“Whaddaya think?” The words were slurred against the skin at the crook of your neck while he peppered your skin with kisses.

“Delicious.” You looked at him with a smirk, mind still hazy as your body shook its way through a few more aftershocks. 

“Told ya I could make a better milkshake.”

 As he said it, laughter broke out between the two of you. Your chest struggled against the harness, as it was still pretty tight. Osamu unplugged the decorations, gently untying you as snow fell outside your living room window, the faint jingling of bells filling the room again as the tv light illuminated you both. 

 Taglist Starseeds (check ur privacy settings if your url is in bold): @honey-makki @crushzone @yumekosgamblingroom @boujiesav @onesingleravioli @ushijimasfarmhat @trouvelle @nekoma-hoe @right-shoe-jpg @atsumusc0ck @ukeis @nivky0-0 @animoozies @charmarsmith

[hyperfixedonsomething]

Soooo I started working on the second chapter of my Fexi fic ages ago but I never managed to finish it. Maybe I’ll finish it one day but in the meantime here’s how much I have written:

(Also heres a link to the first chapter if you haven’t read it: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37662220 )

She was with him at every point. When the screams wouldn’t stop and the mangled body of his brother was the only image in front of his glazed eyes, she was there, by him, never touching but somehow surrounding him with her warmth. At times he hated how safe she made him feel, how much of a haven she was for him because it made him question whether he had ever been that for his brother. It made him question why he deserved to feel so much love and protection when all his brother had ever known was a deep rooted anger and fear that even he hadn’t been able to fathom until the final moments when it seemed hell had crossed over and burned the final bridge that he had built towards that family that he had dreamed of.

Unbeknownst to him, brown eyes had lurked, gazing into his future and placing it in a heart that burned so bright it almost felt like he had no choice but to follow it. Giving up was never truly an option, when a fire burned as fiercely for him and only him.

The ice around him began to drip.

-

The trial had been long and tedious, he had zoned out for most of it. What good would it do listening to the images that had been seared into his brain, repeated for strangers over and over, every little detail analysed, as if he hadn’t already looked at everything a hundred times over. As if that wasn’t everything he did with his time.

Watch Ash die over and over, see what he did wrong, think about what he could have done right, repeat.

Eventually by some sick twist of his luck or maybe Ashes dying wish, he was acquitted, was allowed to leave a free man and those brown eyes he had been avoiding this entire process, burned his as they searched desperately for a way to ease his suffering, his pain. He wanted to scream there’s nothing you can do, I can’t be fixed, but as soon as he looked directly in them his shoulders loosened and he realised he didn’t want to hurt her. Far from it. He needed to protect her because she was all he had left at this point, and that made him so afraid and mad because why was she all he had left and how was he supposed to protect her when he had failed protecting his own flesh and blood (because Ash was his flesh and blood) and how is it fair to his brother if he protects her when he couldn’t protect him. All this to say that while she was the most important person in the world to him right now and he could barely imagine staying apart from her, he also couldn’t exist in the same space as her without wounding her unjustifiably and becoming like everyone else she had taken care of, becoming another person she loved who didn’t treat her right and lashed out at her because she was there and she always would be because she was nothing if not loyal but she also didn’t think she deserved more. To see her accept that from him when he knew she deserved the world twice over would fucking destroy any semblance of sanity he had so he told her he needed time. He told her he needed time and space and this wasn’t something she should have to shoulder because it was true, his grief was his own and he would let it devour him before he let it touch her.

The desperate resignation in her eyes did nothing to quell the guilt suffocating him.

‘Ashtray wouldn’t want you to do this alone’ she said softly, her lips brushing against his cheek and if the situation weren’t so tragic, he swears he would be able to see heavens doors open just slightly a sliver of hope glinting in the distance.

Instead he turns away from it and spits venom because the anger is rising like bile in the back of his throat and she becomes its first casualty despite his best efforts to protect her.

Her pleading eyes, despite his vile tone, is what solidifies his decision.

However, even once the door closes, the guilt of her pain festers.

-

He stayed away for a month. For a month straight she would come and drop off food at seven pm on a Saturday, never pushing him out of the darkness he had crawled and locked himself into, content to wait on the other side like a guiding light, flicking but never burning out, always patient. He would watch her from his window, watch as she waited hopefully, recklessly, a few minutes each week before she would set the food down, following through on this tradition she established like it was a religion.

That one glimpse of her would be enough to sustain him the entire week and as he hungrily devoured the only food that wasn’t take out but was made with love and understanding and whispered promises of ‘I’m here’ and ‘I’ll wait, as long as you need me to’, he felt a part of his soul healing as he vowed his devotion to her, the purest part of him forever tied to her and her heart. It was enough. It had to be enough

He would make it enough because she deserved more. She deserved more than his devotion she deserved a solar system at one with her and her movements and words because that is what she created and that was what was in her, an entire universe and for her to dedicate that to him felt so fickle, such a waste.

But she had chosen him and he’d be damned if he questioned the judgement or decision of one of the smartest girls he had ever known.

Still, he needed time. The thoughts plagued him and questions haunted his every move, with every pulse one word would echo in the deep recesses of his mind Whywhywhy,

but all he could do was push and push and push and hope that the brighter things, the memories and hopes he had built with a soft curious voice in his ear, weren’t pushed away as well.

-

He was well aware how long it had been since he had talked to anyone, his own solitary confinement making up for what he had missed in prison. His phone was dead, had been for three days now but even before then he hadn’t bothered answering any of Rues daily phone calls or texts.

He had been in a haze for a while now, he’s pretty sure he hasn’t eaten anything in 2 days apart from Cheetos. He wasn’t sure what had triggered it, whether it had been his brothers jumper on his bed waiting for it’s owner who would never return or the movie that had made him chuckle slightly looking to his left only to be met with silence and an ice cold chill in his throat.

The only thing he was aware of outside of his overwhelming grief chaining itself to him was a soft knock that made itself known tentatively despite it echoing throughout the apartment. He knew exactly who it was, only one person had ever knocked on his door as lightly and softly as that at his door. It was the knock of someone who loved him without expecting anything in return. He moved towards his window, and she was there, her brown waves cascading against her shoulders, arms crossed , glaring at the door as if it had personally wronged her for blocking her way in the first place. He gazed at her for a while, taking in every detail that had changed since he last saw her and his soul felt like it was being redeemed, pulled from the depths of the ocean to gain a second of fresh air, a minute of salvation from the oppressive weight that had been pushing him lower, lower, lower. She turned, the sun surrounding her like an aura, and he felt his breath catch in his throat because she was so damn beautiful and she cared so much, for him, when he didn’t deserve and inch, a fraction of the mercy she had shown him by still loving him despite how broken he was, how much he damaged everything he touched.

So when he saw her empty hands and heard her knock again, he closed his eyes and prayed to a God he wasn’t sure ever listened to him, to just this once, leave him in his misery by himself. She didn’t deserve this. She didn’t fucking deserve this.

The knocking persisted.

He fell onto the sofa, the guilt burning a hole in his sternum.

-

He must have drifted off at some point as he woke up in the dark, the light that had been streaming through his windows dulled and replaced by a soft moonlight.

He squinted at his phone. It was 2 in the morning. The last sound he had drifted off to had been Lexis soft knocks that had been slowly but surely tapping away at his resistance. With every knock he could feel her warmth seeping through the hard wood working its way into his heart.

He had retreated to the land where he could hold her without hurting her and hoped she would learn to hate him because not loving her seemed impossible in that moment with her so close. He had been selfish and used the warmth to lull himself into a peaceful slumber for the first time in months.  

He stood up slowly, the absence of her knocks allowing the cold to slowly creep back into his soul.

For a second he wondered if she had stayed, her stubbornness not being lost on him and as much as he prayed she had not been stupid enough to stay outside his door, in this neighbourhood, at this time, his heart stuttered skipping a beat at the thought that she could.

A new sense of urgency filled him and pushed him to check, rushing towards the door, yanking it open in a panicked scramble.

And there she was, sleeping on concrete while he had been dozing on feathers and the guilt engulfed him tenfold, forcing him to lean against the door frame, as he breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn’t been harmed, that some cosmic force she didn’t believe in but was all he had, protected her when he couldn’t, hadn’t.

Fuck, he felt like he was going into cardiac arrest.

For a second he just watched her chest rising and falling, every breath she took feeling more sacred than any prayer he could make.

He moved towards her, a magnetic force, an invisible string pulling him to her and for a second he gave in, gathering her in his arms, and as he lifted her up, he swore he had never felt lighter.

Her resistance was short and he couldn’t help but beam with pride at his girl, so fucking smart, even half asleep.

He kept his lips on her forehead as he moved inside, whispering reassurances into her skin, hoping they would somehow embed themselves into her mind, a constant reassurance that the cruelties of this world couldn’t touch her. Not anymore. Not while he was there. He would protect her, even if he couldn’t protect-

‘I gotchu Lex’

Even if it was from himself.

-

He had laid her down on the couch and covered her with the afghan, the everlasting symbol of his love, the everlasting symbol of those he had strived to protect but had only destroyed and he let a few tears escape because no matter how deeply he cared or how much love he gave, it seemed to never be enough for life to just let him love unrestrained, uncaring.

He sat on the chair, a constant vigil over her, praying for her safety, for her love to go unharmed.

He retreated as the sun rose.

There was no place for his storm in the sunlight.

-

He couldn’t help himself. He heard her footsteps outside and it felt like the future he had envisioned, so close yet so far. She was waking up in his home, her feet echoing in the corridor, her presence forever a comfort, as undeserving of it he is.

He walks out and sees her stretching, arms over her head. The first thing he notices in the  brightness of the new day is how sunken her features are, how thin her arms are. She’s still a vision but he can see the impact of the last few months starkly, his mind unable to release him from any guilt that could be tied to him because it was his fault. She had to go through this because he couldn’t help himself when he saw that quiet, pretty girl on that sofa who had been in his orbit for so long. He was selfish and he had to get that worried look off her face because it physically hurt him to know something was causing a girl this sweet, this loving, pain.

He walks towards her and his hands come up to her face, reverential, grazing over her cheekbones. He tells her that she looks thinner, and a litany of emotions flicker over her face, all of them gone too fast before he can try and decipher them. He hates the mask she puts on before she responds that he does too.

He doesn’t know why but that angers him. Everyone always needing to worry about him, directing attention to him when all he wants to do is protect them. It’s what got Ash killed and its like a bucket of ice water has been poured over him because he realises he hates that the people he cares about, that he has promised to keep safe constantly go against him as if to throw his concern in his face. Here was Lexi, doing the exact same thing.

He steps away and tries to make her understand, to make her listen “You shouldn’t have stayed out there. Its dangerous round here.”

He tenses as she scoffs. He’s misstepped.

‘‘Well I’m sorry if we were a bit concerned. You know we haven’t seen you for a month.”

She wasn’t as cruel as she could have been. She doesn’t mention how he could have just opened the door but it doesn’t sting any less. She talks of concern and it stings because he knows what he’s doing to those he cares about and he knows he can’t do this forever but he also can’t bare to let anyone else too close. He's now seen how it ends and the vision is seared into his mind and the prophecy that his grandmother had passed down is constantly echoing in his mind.

It’s what leads him to take a deep breath and move away from her because he knew that any words that left him would be rebutted by her, disproven by the strength of her love and he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from falling into her comfort, her fearlessness that no one but him seems to be able to see because as much as he wants to protect her, she won’t leave until she believes she can’t protect him.

Therefore he has to be the one to be cruel.

His silence suffocates her and he can feel it in the way she withdraws into herself as he watches her leave from the kitchen.

After, he locks himself in the bathroom and closes his eyes, allowing the silence to suffocate him too.

-

She comes over often after that, always lingering and floating around his space, making it feel more and more like a home each day and that’s why at the end of each day even when he vows to not let her in the next time, when she returns, her heart on her sleeve and her loyalty clear in the way she holds her self, confident and unmoving like he’s never seen her, he will give in to the deep seated desire and conviction he has that she’s safer here, near him, near his love that would never let anything happen to her.

But he still can’t look her in the eyes, talk to her for more than a few seconds at a time. His love is an oxymoron and he doesn’t understand why its like this but the grief and guilt that still swim in his gut and climb up into his mind at night when all he’s left with are thoughts of a boy in his hallway, a baby, a business partner, a child, a red dot, are a strong indication of why he can’t fully express his love yet, why he can’t let her in.

Still he hopes the comfort and love he finds in her can be felt by her through their connection, through whatever force had brought them together on that fateful night.

He can hear her cleaning, caretaking as she is used to and he wants to tell her to stop because that’s not why he lets her in. Her just being there is enough she doesn’t have to prove herself, her worth like she does with everyone else, he knows she’s worth more than this, more than him. But he can’t seem to move way from his room, his mourning still in progress, his brothers body still fresh in the hall. His punishment is not done and all he can pray for is her patience and her willingness to wait for him.

“Wait for me, Lex” He whispers to himself over and over as he tries to go to her, to show her at least an ounce of the affection she deserves. He thinks if he says it enough maybe, just maybe, he’ll gain the courage he lost that night.

It’s not that, instead its a cry of pain that has his heart stop and then beating at an unhealthy pace yet again, and he swears this girl will be the death of him as he rushes to see what happened because he was categorically sure she was just watching TV last he heard, finally settling after working on trying to fix the scars that decorated his house and were an irreversible reminder of everything that had changed.

He sees her as he rushes out, lying in a heap on the floor and he curses at himself of being so incapable of protecting the people he loves because wasn’t that all he had to do, and how fucking hard could it be yet here he is without a brother and the girl he loves in pieces and in pain on the floor in front of him.

“What the fuck happened?” He asks her crouching down next to her, pulling her up and its electric the touch and he’s greedy so he moves the hair away from her face, his fingers brushing her cheek and he swears he can feel something inside him falling into place.

She starts talking about what happened and he hears her words but more than anything he absorbs and rests in the familiarity of it, of hearing her voice wash over him. It slowly fades as a spark of recognition lights up her eyes too and he slowly lifts her hand to his lips because he’s so selfish that he hopes that the jolt of electricity running through him can be felt by her, can heal her but more than that can heal him. He hears her call his name gently “Fezco” and he knows what’s coming, can hear the concern clear as day in her voice and he wants to take it all away from her, shoulder that weight himself and not let her burden herself with his problems because she is so much better than this, than him.

So when she pulls him into a soft kiss, he deepens it and he tries to tell her that they can’t, they can’t do this, he would never be able to live with himself if something happened to her as well and so he makes it a goodbye, the most beautiful and heartbreaking goodbye he’s ever had to initiate.

He’s a mess though and when they part he realises he won’t be able to stay away forever, he can try but her pull is too powerful and he’s not as fearless as her, he’s a slave to his circumstance, always looking to higher beings to let him have what he wants, to let him have peace because who else could he rely on, who else was left (except the girl in front of him but that was too much pressure to put on her and he would never add more to her burden when he could help it.)

So as the girl in front of him breaks down into sobs that wreck his entire being, that he would kill to never hear again, he whispers apologies and leaves. Her voice echoes and as he closes his door waiting for her to leave, to relieve herself of the burden he has so unfairly placed on her, he wonders if he is maybe making the biggest mistake of his life.

As he hears the door shut and feels the ice and fire roaring inside him, he curls in on himself trying to get rid of the pain. As it swells he realises the only cure is her and as much as he hates himself for it he hopes she’ll come back, that she will ignore him like he’s done before. That she will heal him.

“Please Lex” he sobs into his empty room “Please, come back.”

-

She doesn’t come back.

Not the next day or the next week or even the next month and with each passing moment he feels a piece of himself fracture, maybe beyond repair.

[harold231]

It wasn't real

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Posted: 04/30/2021

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: None? Maybe a lil angst just a lel bet.

A/N: I think it might be good? Idk You let me know. But like frfr, don't just give me feedback in your mind, put it into words. Also I apparently have a thing for Bucky in a dotted apron soooo yeah.

FYI: time zone/era is open for interpretation. Bucky never became an avenger/soldat and steve isn't part of this one.

The wind that blew around you was warm and sweet with the scent of freshly bloomed flowers. Perhaps it was an act of kindness from some God trying to distract you from the cold bitterness settling into your bones. Closing your eyes you conjure the very memory that left you so desolate.

The sun snuck it's way through the curtains to illuminate the room, effectively disturbing the sleep that you always seemed to be craving. Waking up is always hassle but whenever you remember that you get to spend your day with the only person who tolerates you and you him, getting out of bed is the easiest thing. Bucky is crazy and the damn boy is never in one spot for to long and he always has something to say, but you can't imagine how boring your days would be if you guys had never met. well technically if your parents had never met.

When you were a child you parents had to move to new york for business and they decided that Brooklyn was the place to be. You had been Bucky's neighbor and the first day you guys moved in his mom had dragged him over with the most delicious angel food cake that he so proudly claimed to have made mostly on his own. He just loved cooking and baking since forever, he would tell you that he just liked experimenting with foods but you knew the truth was that the boy liked to eat and didn't have the patience to wait for his mother to come home.

Only a few years after your family had moved to Brooklyn you and Bucky had already built an unbreakable bond. You guys had found a beautiful cherry tree one day when playing tag and had deemed it to be your's and Bucky's spot. Whenever you had a bad day or needed time away from the world you guys would go to the tree and just pick cherries, in the winter time you and Bucky would lay under the tree and kick the trunk so that the snow would fall from the leaves. It was the place where at only 15 years old bucky swore he would open his own Bakery and to quote him "I'm serving my ma's food my way doll, It's gonna be the next best thing to hit New York."

You were laying on the ground with your hands crossed behind your head looking up at Bucky swinging upside down from a branch when he told you all this. You felt something you had never felt before at that moment, looking up at the wild haired boy who loved to eat, loved his family, and had the most ambition you had ever heard from kids your age. Your heart felt full and your cheeks grew warm as you looked up at the same blue eyes you had know for years now, only this time you notice the way they twinkle in the sunlight and how rosy his lips are. Now 7 years laters you and Bucky were preparing to open the very bakery he promised you he'd open. Banners were beautifully strung along the walls and cute retro china was set out, ready to be filled for opening day. There was no hesitation from you when Bucky had asked you to run the bakery with him, you were excited to spend your days with the person you hoped you would spend the rest of your life with.

At around 6:30 in the morning you had arrived at the bakery but it seemed that Bucky had beat you to it. The smell of fresh angel food cake and cocoa danced up your nose as soon as you opened the door. Closing your eyes you smiled at the memories that it brought back. Moving to the back you grabbed your Disney themed apron and placed your bag and coat in its place before scurrying over to the kitchen while trying (and failing) to tie your apron. There in all his dorkiness was Bucky wiggling around to the chordettes. He knew that you loved the 50's aesthetic so he found a way to incorporate it without going overboard, by adding little trinkets, a jukebox, and even those cute little dining tables. In fact at the moment he was wearing a ruffly red polka dotted apron as he frosted some cupcakes.

Apron tied, you were finally ready to get to work. You walked up to Bucky bumping his hip as you reached for some cupcake pans, "Whatcha doin here so early Buck, we don't open until 12" he looks at you with squinted eyes, "The hell are you doing here so early." "Woah,woah,woah completely unprovoked. I'm just saying cuz' you were the one complaining about the opening time being set at 8. Like damn." Breathing out a huff of air he wipes his forehead with a towel "I'm sorry doll, I'm just super nervous and I couldn't sleep so I came to start baking things. I already frosted the ice cream cakes and I just finished the pies, but I was thinking that maybe we needed some cupcakes too, even though we already baked so many pastries and stuff last night I'm worried it won't be enough."

Setting down the trays you move to hug Bucky from behind holding him close to you. "Buck I know we'll do great your food is too good to pass up on especially when it's free." You place a soft kiss to his shoulder " I promise you'll do great, everything you do is amazing you try your hardest at everything Buck, You've worked your butt off and made mine considerably larger to get here, don't start losing your mind on me now." A cute little laugh from Bucky lets you know that he's hearing you and he isn't so stressed anymore. "I just want this to be perfect ya know?" with your head still against his back you nod, "I just want it to be a special day for my special girl."

You couldn't stop the slight blush that rose to your cheeks or the way that your heart suddenly started beating three times faster. You had also wanted to make him something special which is why you had got here so early. Finally releasing your hold on Bucky you straighten your apron out before gathering everything you need for some red velvet cupcakes. Bucky loved your red velvet cake so you loved making it for him. After hours of mixing, baking, and frosting had passed, you guys were rewarded with a bakery that looked as great as it smelled. "Alright doll, I'm heading out, I gotta go get ready. Meet you back here at 12 , Love ya." He didn't even give you a chance to answer as he ran right out the door. "Love you too."

You had stayed behind just a little while longer as you perfected your secret project. Carefully you added snowflakes to some of the cupcakes because you knew how much he loved snow even if he hated winter, some cats, flowers that reminded you of bucky, and one extra special cupcake. When you finish you decide to clean up a bit more and prepare some drinks for later before heading home to get ready. As soon as you got home you took a shower and did the simplest of make up with a light pink lip. You had decided to wear a dress to match the blossoming flowers that spring had brought. Pink with a yellow lace trim and flowers embroided all over the dress, matching it with some yellow flats.

You had decided that it was a perfect day for a walk so you grabbed a light scarf and slung it over your shoulders, grabbed Bucky's cupcakes, and headed over to the bakery. You felt as if a Hundred pounds had been lifted from your shoulders knowing that Bucky had felt the same way about you. You had decided that you would tell him today with your special cupcakes. As you rounded the corner you felt giddy and you couldn't wipe the smile from your face no matter how hard you tried. As you reached the bakery you saw that a majority of the people had already arrived and you knew that it would put Bucky at ease to see all the people enjoying his food. You stopped at the window, closing your eyes to take a deep breath to prepare yourself to join the celebration.

Opening your eyes you reached for the handle only to stop at the sight on the other side of the door. Bucky stood there arms wrapped around a woman eyes locked on hers as he leaned in for a kiss. It must have all happened in about 30 seconds but it felt as if time himself had slowed it down for you to watch the way he tilted her head and ran his tongue along her bottom lip before finally uniting their lips. Your heart dropped as quickly as your smile did and suddenly you felt so stupid for thinking this could be real. You willed yourself not to cry as you allowed your legs to carry you anywhere but there.

That's how you found yourself sitting underneath a blossoming cherry tree. A tree that held only happy memories because it wasn't a place you could be sad... back then. With your back against the tree and box of cupcakes full of unrequited love in your lap you realize how much you over romanticized Bucky. Opening the box you decide it would be a shame to let them go to waste. The first one you grab has a big red heart frosted in the middle, you let out a deep sigh before breaking the cupcake right down the middle. You shove half of the cupcake into your mouth and only then do you allow the tears to fall. You sat there for hours crying eating cupcakes, watching the sunset, and thinking about everything that Bucky did for you, as a friend. You realize you had no right to be angry at Bucky, after all you never told him how you felt you just assumed that he would feel the same way after so many years. With every broken memory another cupcake vanished.

He was always there for you, when no one wanted to come to your slumber party Bucky did and he even did all the girly things with you. Painting your nails, doing your hair, watching chick flicks, and pillow fights. once he even asserted that no one could protect you as well as he could, when you had decided to go camping with your friend from class so he insisted on taking you himself. Your friend was most noticeably gay so you had assumed he wanted to spend time alone with you. But now that you think back on those memories these are things that anyone would do for their bestfriend. And that's what you realized 8 hours and 11 cupcakes later.

The moon floated above you and as it's white rays settled upon the lake you decided it might be time to go home now. You get up and dust your dress off before leaning down to grab the mostly empty box. Turning around you are stopped again by what's in front of you. Bucky stands there brows furrowed as his eyes flash from you to the box in your hands. "Where the hell have you been, I've been calling you all day." swallowing the lump in your throat you go to answer but are interrupted. " everyone's been asking me about you all night and I had no damn idea what to tell them, but apparently you were just out here being inconsiderate. You go and tell me I can do great tonight, that you'd be there for me, but you weren't." You try to answer him but are again interrupted. "You could have told me something earlier instead of leaving me there like a dumb-" "SHUT UP!" this time it was your turn to interrupt him.

Taking a deep breath you look into his eyes before explaining. "Of course I was ready to be there today, you think I wore this dress to sit under a damn tree? Well I didn't. When I left my apartment I was ready and I was excited, so excited. I couldn't even stop smiling on my way over, but then I got to the shop and I saw-" Immediately you stopped as you realized what you were about to say. He cocked an eyebrow and shook his head slightly as if to say 'Hello?' "You saw what? What did you see that would make you abandon ship just like that?" Shame flushed through your being and you could no longer keep eye contact. "Nothing, you know what, it doesn't even matter. I'm sorry I was being dramatic I should have been an adult and dealt with it on my own time. And I'm sorry I abandoned you all, but the night was about you anyways."

"The night was supposed to be about the both of us so it does matter if you saw something that made you want to leave. Just tell me doll, what did you see?" his voice is soft as he pleads with you. "I saw... well I saw you kissing that lady and I just wanted get away and ended up here okay!?" You said it all in a jumble hoping that he wouldn't be able to understand what you had said. But luck wasn't your friend so of course he did. "So seeing me kiss another person was so gross to you that you had to run away, what the hell? are you 13 again?" You hadn't admitted it outloud yet and it seemed that the dumbass in front of you was going to force it out of you.

Stepping around Bucky you pull your scarf tight around your body as you focus on not crying anymore until you get home. You distract yourself by thinking of all the love you saw in all the little things Bucky did for you. Dancing around the newly furnished bakery body against body as frank sinatra brought you heart to heart, watching rom-coms and ugly crying together, but by the time you get home you force yourself to face the ugly truth. The Love was always in your head. It wasn't real.

A new wave of tears blurred your vision as teardrops fell perfectly to the ground. "It's because I have feelings for you Bucky, and I now know you don't feel the same way." Sniffling you don't bother looking up because your heart is to broken for that right now. "I'm Just gonna need a little bit of time and I'll be back good as new like nothing even happened." Still unable to lift your gaze from the ground you decide to focus on the last cupcake left in the box. 'I Love You' is written in tiny light blue frosting letters. "I uhm, uhh." That brought your attention to Bucky, as embarrassment pulsed as strong as ever through your veins. " You don't have to say anything Buck, It's fine, I'll see you next week, on monday" you hand him the box as you go to pass him "I think you would have a better use for this than me I ate 11 others already so."

Divider credits: @firefly-graphics