#now they just have to live with the knowledge of what they are and that eventually they will stop caring about all the things they ever

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 || 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary_ when you declined to play Ddakji with a man, the least you expected was him stalking you, even less expected when you oblige him to lick your bleeding wound after seeing him kill a man and escaping him.

warnings_ MDNI, age gap (not specified but legal) reader is a foreigner (implied American but not specified again), stalking, blood play, dom!salesman, switch!reader, toxic till the end, sexual innuendos, manipulation, questionable morals, do not romanticize this irl pls, NO PROOFREAD YET

notes_ I’ll just drop this fic and leave it there bc why am i feeling so horny for an Asian sociopath? me la estoy pasando bien raro (i like it)

♫ ♪ the worst playlist 4 this man

✰ Index (+ fics here)

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Everything was irritating. The class you had was canceled last minute, the crowd at the train station was loud, the tapping of a kid in a window was constant, and the message you received asking for your campus ID to keep using your student account was sudden and required immediate action. Your cramps and migraine only aggravate everything.

You were steps away from the stairs when you stopped to take the damn picture of your ID and be done with that. But of course, you couldn’t find your wallet at first glance, so you moved aside to take a better look.

You worried about kneeling and ruining your black coat with the dirtiness of the floor at the station, but at the same time, you thought it was just stupid.

A trail of curses flooded your mind as you tried to find your wallet, making you oblivious to a random man walking in your direction.

“Excuse me, Miss… Would you like to play Ddakji?” Said the man asked you in Korean. You were occupied with a hand inside your thrifted designer tote, and your mind unconsciously prepared an answer in English.

“Sorry, I don’t have time” When you realized your mid-answer you sighed, just as you fished out your wallet. “For every win of yours, you’ll earn a great sum of cash”

Once you stood up, you met the face of the man who now answered in English as well. Very tall, handsome, innocent smile and in a suit; a businessman. You knew it was wrong to judge but there was something behind the smile he offered you that resulted eerie.

Like behind that seemingly blameless expression, the man was hiding his true intentions.

Might’ve been your eyes or hair that caught his attention. You weren’t native, and he didn’t want to think he could take advantage, yet his feet dragged him to you.

Placing your bag over your shoulder again, you grab your glasses and phone with tangled EarPods. You give the man one last look. You are not having a good day and you don’t have time to deal with this.

“What do you say?” He asks feigning kindness, eyeing you subtly without your knowledge.

“No, thank you. I don’t even know how the game works”

“You look like you are a natural. You might be surprised if you try. You just have to pick a color and try to flip the opposing tile”

The rich always trying to fuck the one who isn’t. This was just a new way. The urge to roll your eyes grew but you remained still.

“Look, I’m sorry. But I bet you do this just to see how desperate people who need money can go. I won’t be one of them. If not, sorry for misjudging you” you harshly say before putting on your EarPods and leaving the station. You leave him perplexed, huffing in disbelief and igniting a fire of curiosity inside him.

And you completely forgot about the Ddakji man as you made it to your little apartment, not knowing he would turn upside down your upcoming days.

…

Warm days in winter were exciting for you. They boosted your energy and made you want to be out all day.

You had the luck of living in a beautiful complex because it was once from a friend of your mother who married years ago and now had her single apartment for rent.

It had long warm hallways that hosted at least eight apartments by floor. With orange and pink subtle lights and uneven edges. It was truly a sight despite how little the apartments were. One bedroom with closet and bathroom, a tiny studio, small kitchen, enough space for a dining table, another small bathroom, and a half sized living room with balcony.

Your loneliness was well-balanced because you loved your home. But even on warm days, you wanted to be out.

Your red shoes contrasted with everything you stepped on. You carried a bag with a bunch of books and another one with thrifted clothes you bought.

At the park you always walked by, there was a fair amount of people as usual. You don’t care much to look around but someone makes you stare longer than needed.

The same man who asked if you wanted to play a game at the station was in the park. Another impeccable suit dressing him, looking attractive like the first time and already looking at you.

He offered you a smile, to which you didn’t reply. You looked at the ground, feeling like you had frozen.

What a weirdo, he offered bread and a random paper to a lonely man.

Simultaneously, you wondered if the man found you attractive enough to stare like that. With your mind that often became nihilistic, you thought you were delusional and that you should just keep walking.

His eyes remained glued to you. As his prey was thinking about what was better to choose, he contemplated you walking again.

The salesman realized he had made you nervous and that made him feel eager to end his job and follow you again.

Once he realized you lived in a good neighborhood, where his elegant suits matched the vibe, he got even more excited to see you again.

So now, was like it was meant to be.

How sweet, sophisticated, and innocent you looked.

Something shifted, as you passed by his side, only having a view of his back, you assumed he was worked out, his hair looked perfectly fine, and his big hands offered two things. Perhaps you had misjudged him and he really wanted to help. But your inner voice said otherwise. In a sudden change of events, you decided to look back once you were almost at the exit of the park.

With his deep gaze still set on you, your lips formed a smile.

And he took it as a first win in the games that had begun between you two.

…

Once again, you find yourself in the library. Inside one of the biggest malls you’ve been to, you are leaning at a counter, asking if they have an English translation of a book you were interested in.

Your Korean isn’t good enough yet, so as the nice librarian disappeared to find your request, you are working on your next reply, with a translation app.

“Do you recommend me this one?” your back arched as a startled reflex. You quickly stand straight and turn around to see the person you grew anxious to avoid and see again. The salesman is there, looking down at you with a perfectly orchestrated smile.

“Huh?” you ask disconcertingly, he shows you a book, his face looking like he had found a wounded little bird. But it was only you, startled and nervous by his strong presence.

The book is The Divine Comedy. Dante Alighieri.

“Certainly is a good one. A lot of heavenly justice…” you say trying to sound confident, looking at the cover of the book. Displaying the layers that separated heaven from hell. “Do you believe in heavenly justice?”

“I don’t know. We can’t call someone a sinner without a proper trial beforehand” he chuckles, which makes you frown for a second. He truly was unpredictable and you didn’t like that. “Ah, sinners. Always misjudged and harshly punished for being the ones who have the guts to make things…” his deep voice and tone made you wonder if he was self-perceived as a sinner, which made you feel worse.

“You sound like an ethnocentric…”

“I don’t think I’m far into that type of thinking, y/n” Your eyes almost popped out, leaving your hands in an anxious tremble.

“How is it possible that you know my name?” Before he can even answer, you add more. “You are stalking me”

His demonic smile makes your heart stop. The smile you once thought had innocence can’t blind you anymore. He isn’t innocent. He literally confirmed he was stalking you and you didn’t know how to feel.

“I don’t like the idea that conveys the word ‘stalking’. We can call it predestination…” you huff in disbelief. “What do you want with me?”

“I would like to get to know the woman who rejected my Ddakji offer. And ask for one more game” Your lips form a line, and quietly you are hating how much you are enjoying the conversation.

“Hmm, I’m bad at most games, so I’m afraid I will reject you once again” You turned back again to see if the librarian was coming when you felt him stepping closer, which made you feel nervous again.

“I might believe you. I always win…” he whispered in your ear, sending shivers through your spine and creating a lot of tension.

Your psycho mode almost made you lean forward again, daring to see if some friction was possible. But you didn’t, trying to be prudent and acting sane.

“I would’ve wanted a normal first interaction and this time you should’ve asked me out on a date. That’s how it works where I come from but… here, I guess not” he stepped aside as the librarian handed you the book. And as you thanked her and turned to leave and pay somewhere else, he took out a card and handed it to you.

“I’m sure we can work on some sort of arrangement. Here, you may call me…” slightly irritated that he didn’t say much about your inquiry, you snatched the card and walked away.

The cathartic feelings of wanting to keep talking to him and running away from him at the same time resulted in excruciating. It didn’t make sense, the point of him was to nowhere. Being clueless about his age, name, and everything made it feel wrong. Yet, curiosity was starting to burn you.

…

Like a miracle, the heavens moved and sprinkled some luck above you. You found some friends on campus, they spoke English like you and were foreigners as well. One of them was a friend of the owner of a club and invited you for the night.

The invitation made you forgetful about your salesman, whom you hadn’t talked with since the encounter in the library. The card he handed the last time rested between the book you bought the same day, making you unable to read more because it reminded you of the encounter with him.

It resulted unknown to you when was that your life had turned over the edge of becoming twisted. Your feelings for a mysterious man who seemed more accusable than appeared remained undecided.

He made you feel like a wildfire and a caged bird at the same time. Delicate but menacing.

He seemed older than you, professional in a field, mature and imposing. Which you didn’t mind when he appeared to ask you about The Divine Comedy. Either way, you were playing but couldn’t risk anything. Especially in a country where you didn’t know how everything worked.

After getting out of the shower, your thoughts on the salesman are completely faded. You slip on a sequin dress and paint your eyes with glitter and a smokey style.

Thereafter, at the club you let yourself go and have a wild night. Between classes, essays, and the issue with the salesman, you needed a time out.

Everything feels nice when you take a bathroom break and you smile at your reflection. You know you are close to being drunk, it’s the most enjoyable stage of ingesting alcohol.

“Hey, let’s go dancing, I couldn’t find you before!” Yells one of your friends after you reunite with the little group. You nod excitedly, taking her hand and letting her take you to the dance floor.

The music reminded you of that time when spinnin records were a trend and everyone played their mixes at parties back at home. As you move along the track, you don’t look at anything in particular, you just feel interesting and sexy. But your eyes end up giving a quick glance at one table, almost making you stop your euphoric moment.

You swore you saw your salesman.

Looking around you don’t see him, so you return dancing but the odd sensation in your chest doesn’t let you rest.

“What happens?” Asks another friend, looking worried.

“Nothing. Just thought I saw someone. Never mind…” you shake your head, smiling and convincing them that everything is fine.

But once they got more drunk, you walked out, despite curiosity, you wanted to confirm if the tall gorgeous man was near you.

Rarely you bring up to question your life decisions. Not because you thought you were perfect, but because you easily accepted your errors.

And it wasn’t hard to accept you completely messed up by getting out of the club. Where the night was colder, and some steps away from the main entrance, the crowd was loud. A man could be heard pleading and sobbing, which made you fearful but eager to see what was happening.

You peeked at the alley beside the club. A wave of shock flooded you once you noticed another man was punching the one who yelped and sobbed for forgiveness.

Your salesman was the attacker.

“Please! I’ll pay everything back!” Your mind raced back to the moment you spotted your salesman inside the club minutes ago.

His dark grey suit didn’t fit the aura of the place, but he seemed to be talking with the same man he was now punching.

It was obvious at that point that he wasn’t a good man. He made fun of making people play his seemingly innocent games to later laugh in the face whenever they lost. He was never flirting with you, the odd feeling of uncertainty you felt with him was right.

You had to go. You had to burn the card he gave you, avoid the station where you met him, and forget about his face.

There’s panic in your system, your heart beats fast and nausea starts coming up your throat.

You want to get immediately drunk and forget everything you saw with a hangover. You need it.

But you don’t get very far. Midway through the stairs that conduct to the club, a hand holds your forearm with extreme pressure and drags you inside a private room.

Your salesman finally found you.

…

“You just killed a man!” you almost yelled as soon as he pushed you inside and closed the door.

The room was very fancy like the club. It had a big desk near a window, flower-shaped hanging lamps, black sparkly floor tiles, and a sage velvet couch.

Your salesman slides his fingers through his hair and looks at the ceiling before turning to you. One hand still carrying the murder weapon.

“He deserved it” was all he answered and you take a breath. In need of an alibi, you opened a random fridge in the room and grabbed a beer. Your salesman watched how you sipped at the can. He knew you were feeling a mix of curiosity and disgust for him.

Once you drink at least half of the content, you sigh, brushing aside some hair and walking towards him.

“Who are you?” you ask pleadingly, desperate to know how far you’ve gone for him.

“Eventually you’ll know” he sounds cold, calculating, and menacing. “You didn’t call…”

He was taking advantage of your vulnerability.

“I met you a week ago, I don’t even know your name” you admit with shame and dissatisfaction.

For the first time, he genuinely touches you. Hands straight to your waist, making gasp in surprise.

“You’re smart and will eventually understand. You’re my good girl”

His good girl….

What was left to do when you have a sociopath holding your waist with the same hands he had used to kill a man? Play along, even if you are terrified.

What had been your horrified face, slowly ends up in a smirk, tilting your head, squandering cheekiness. “I’m not your good girl, sir”

He slowly leaned back, taking a seat on the sage couch, one of his hands going straight to rest behind his head, against the wall. He twirled the knife against his knee, making you uneasy, but confident about your upcoming words.

“If I walk away, you can’t do much with me, I’m a foreigner. Sure the authorities would dismantle whatever dirty job you’re into and that’s a big no-no” you explain, and feeling a little too bold, you step between his legs.

“Your lack of ignorance amazes me” he admits, offering you a cocky smile. “It makes me even more infatuated”

Your left knee pushed aside his hand twirling the knife. He remained still but sure seemed slightly surprised when you ended up straddling him. With your hands glued to his dark tie, putting it into place.

“Hmm, well, be careful. I am no threat, I barely have valuable skills to get rid of you but I know I could be a problem. So I guess I won, sir…” you allow yourself to smile, following a path with your fingers, from his tie to his cheeks and nose, softly tracing his pale skin.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart” You knew he was trying to be in control, and the best part was that you weren’t fighting for it.

“There’s a lot I might not understand. I’m just a girl who happened to be in this city for a temporary academic project” When your lips brushed his, you couldn’t deny he was so fucking hot, you wished he wasn’t so weird and probably part of a mafia or cult or whatever. “You are the grown-ass man who got obsessed with me”

“I just find you an odd but interesting player, sweet girl” he tried to use his innocent smile but it was useless when you grabbed him by the shoulders and finally dared to kiss him.

He controlled it the moment he touched you again. His hands had a possessive sting and firmly grabbed you by the hips. One of them still holding the knife.

Feeling bold, with adrenaline flowing freely, you softly bit his lower lip. You knew it was over when he almost let out a moan, and after checking he had his eyes closed, you literally jumped away from him.

Without looking back, you started running. Your clumsy steps turn frantic, knowing damn well he would start following you soon. As you literally start pushing people to get out, your heart beats faster than ever and you have a growing anxiety, begging you to stop and breathe.

Once the cold air hit you, as you took a cab and saw no sign of your salesman, confusion struck you and you saw the blood in your chest and arm.

“Are you alright, girl?” The driver asked, also watching your bleeding state.

“Yes, just an accident, I’m okay” he nods unsure, but starts driving after you give him your destination.

His knife must’ve sliced your skin when you stood up from his lap. When he moved one of his big hands to caress your chin.

It wasn’t that you were scared of him, of your salesman. Although you should be; but you weren’t. Could it be that the worst part was that you were attracted to him? Even after watching him kill a man? You were screwed.

You realize the reason why you always ran away from him is because you don’t know how to face his unpredictable demeanor.

At that point, you didn’t know what he wanted. Only that he was obsessed with you. But his intentions remained a mystery unsolved.

Before getting out of the cab, you pay and send your friends a message that you left early because you got a headache after vomiting. This didn’t happen, but would’ve been better to experience it as a young woman in her twenties.

…

When you opened the door, he was already inside. The worst part is that you weren’t surprised anymore. You only stood at the feet of the door, looking at him with uneasiness.

“You got me worried,” he says, stopping his movements around your table. “You left some blood stains and I thought it was serious”

“You accidentally showed me your true nature. A little bit of blood shouldn’t scare you” his shirt indeed had some bloody spots, his blazer was gone, and the sleeves of his messy shirt were rolled up. You hated that your first thought was that he looked very hot.

He moved and took a seat at one of your tables. He sighed and you realized that perhaps he was also screwed up. For letting himself go too far for you.

“I don’t regret any encounter we’ve had,” he says. “Me neither”

He can’t stop staring at your bloodstained dress and you notice.

Fuck everything, you thought.

I’m attracted to him, he’s attracted to me, What’s the worst thing that could happen? (I don’t want to know).

“Silly boy, look what you did to me,” you say looking at the soaked fabric.

Something possessed you at that moment. Your hands went straight to lift your dress. His eyes trailed your sparkly underwear, your lower belly, and your ribs that rose and fell as you breathed.

Your hands twirl behind your back to unhook your bra; also soaked, throwing it to the floor.

Your salesman is quiet, his innocent smile about to fall because you know you have taken him by surprise.

Likely you’ll get a scar. The would-be slightly deep, an uneven line that passed from your neck to your shoulder.

You step forward, confidently eyeing him.

“Clean it” he tried to stand up, probably to grab a med kit but you stopped him with your heel. “With your mouth. Lick it clean…”

He gulped.

His manspread became the only thing you could care about. How he eyed you with lust and possession for some seconds, and then to lean forwards.

Once again his hands landed on the curves of your hips and he made you step up, leaving him inches away from you.

Your sudden surgation grew and his hot tongue finally made contact with your skin.

You savored the feeling of his tongue, knowing he wouldn’t clean anything but the semi-dry blood over your breast. He was only making a mess.

Then, he lifts his head and catches your lips in a sullied kiss. The way he held you, made you understand how he always wanted control. Above anything.

“I will be gone within time. You can ruin me while it lasts…” you blurt out, panting for air.

“I’ll ruin you. But I don’t want to rip you apart. That’s pointless…” he admits in your lips, blood near your chin that he wipes out. “You’re the most fun I’ve had in years. My little toy…”

“Alright, I’ll be your toy” he nods, kissing you again. “Know that my lips are sealed when it comes to you”

“And you won’t have to worry about anything again…” you moan on his lips when he pulls your hair and finally makes you lay on your once new carpet, now displaying some splotches of blood.

“I don’t need your money”

“Don’t you want to make your mother proud and relieved from student debts? From rent?” You can’t think straight. “It’s not correct…”

“None of this is, y/n. Now shut your mouth and spread your legs, toy”

It’s wrong, immoral, a complete madness. You know everything will change once the night dies and the morning comes. But as much as you tried to communicate to him that you weren’t scared, you knew it was over, you’ve gotten too deep into his shit.

“Farewell to my purity” you whisper in his ear and it’s enough to make his eyes turn darker, full of lust.

Everything that consoles purity would be gone from you. And the fact that you were ready scared you. But once his hands started meeting places across your body, you welcomed the sin.

As well as your mind seized thinking. Not caring about the consequences.

_______________________________________________

If you ask for more I will provide

Quién me manda a escribir estas mamadas? I’m just ovulating.

[coolmaycroft]

*Inhales*

we give too much credit to youtbers for knowing what "making business" is.

Mark was able to see something in the business model of Honey (and many other apps) that other youtubers didn't: The implicit low ethics of startups.

Businesses like a car wash, a restaruant, a stationery, must mantain constant growth. the revenue is little compared to expenses. as the business becmes established revenue increses on a bigger pace than expenses.

Startups try to have exponential growth, cut as much as possible of costs and have massive revenues.

If you're smart and have spent time in startup circles you'll notice startups are pretty much almost a scam. Get a bunch of money from investors, create an easy-to-make product, and hope you make it before you go bakrupt.

Netflix, Uber, Doordash all started like that and they are the lucky survivors of a system that has the survival rate of the permian extinction. And even now they're still on the tight rope.

Thus, the fable tells itself. Instead of a solid product what startups sell is the skeleton of a product that is easy to make use. In stripping the product of its necessary parts, quality controls and efectiveness are sacrificed.

We can see this in the BetterHelp controversy. Anyone that's been to therapy could tell you that therapy on an app is probably a bad idea. But most of these YTbers had never been to therapy, so the inner workings of it were unknown to them. The makers of the app, similarly had never been in therapy ans assumed it could be easily replicated.

When the lid blew on Betterhelp, many youtubers disavowed it with the apology of "I didn't know what I was selling" because again, they live under the assumption that no one would be going to a youtber to sell snake oil. But as we all know the youtbe ecosystem is the perfect gateway to sell snake oil.

Why? because most youtbers are just passionate people video-recording this passion that were lucky enough to get poluar and get paid. In all of this you'll notice there is no thought put into managing costs, attracting customers, scheduling things.

Anyone who would've read a serious book on enterpreneurship would've been able to see what Mark saw. which I guess is my takeaway from all this. Read a couple of books on how to start a business and that'll be enough knowledge to discern a scam like Honey from a regular online buisness. Maybe not even that, just dig on the internet and if they're shady, the dirt won't be hard to find.

Markiplier not partnering with Honey because he didn't understand how its business model was profitable with how much it spent on advertising demonstrates a level of thoughtfulness that seems absent in a lot of youtubers.

[possessedmen]

The Spell of Desire

In the dim light of the evening, Ezra, a reserved art history major, returned to his university dorm room, his mind preoccupied with his unrequited feelings for his roommate, Brandon. Brandon was the epitome of a college jock—muscular, charismatic, and, to Ezra's knowledge, straight. Their shared living space was a constant reminder of what Ezra couldn't have.

As Ezra entered, he froze at the sight before him. There, sprawled on his bed, was Brandon, or so he thought, in all his naked glory. The room was silent except for the soft hum of the air conditioner, and Brandon's usual confident demeanor seemed replaced by a strange vulnerability.

"Brandon, what the hell?" Ezra managed, his voice a mix of shock and intrigue.

The man on the bed shifted, sitting up with a look of flustered confusion. "Hey, Ezra, uh, I was just... I thought I'd surprise you. You know, with a, um, prank. Yeah, a prank," he said, his voice not quite matching Brandon's usual deep timbre. It was higher, more nervous.

Ezra raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "A prank? Since when do you prank me by getting naked on my bed?"

"Well, you know, I've been feeling a bit adventurous lately. Wanted to spice things up around here. Plus, it's hot, and I thought, why not cool off a bit?" The faux-Brandon chuckled awkwardly, trying to mimic the easy laugh of the jock.

Ezra couldn't help but let his gaze linger over the body that was supposed to be Brandon's. There was something off, something not quite right in the way he moved, the way he spoke. "You're acting weird, Brandon. What's really going on?"

"Okay, okay, you got me. I'm not Brandon. I'm Theo. Theo from your literature class. I... I used this old spell book I found in the library. I swapped bodies with Brandon because I've been crushing on you for ages. I wanted to be close to you, to... to see if you felt the same."

Ezra's eyes widened, the pieces falling into place. "You swapped bodies with Brandon? With black magic?"

"Yes, I know it sounds crazy. I'm sorry, I'll reverse it, I just—"

"No, wait," Ezra said, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "If you're going to be Brandon, let's make this believable. What would Brandon say now?"

Theo, still in shock, tried to think on his feet. "Uh, he'd probably say something like, 'Hey, roomie, you caught me. Now, what are you gonna do about it?'"

Ezra chuckled, "That's more like it." He began to unbutton his shirt, revealing his toned physique slowly, deliberately. "And what would Brandon do next?"

Theo swallowed hard, his borrowed body looking out of place with the expression of a shy nerd. "He'd probably... um, flex a bit, show off, right?" He awkwardly flexed one of Brandon's muscular arms.

"Close, but let's make it more... intimate," Ezra suggested, letting his shirt fall to the floor. He climbed onto the bed, his body close to Theo's, the heat between them palpable. "So, 'Brandon', what do you think of this?"

Theo's eyes followed Ezra's movements, his breathing quickening. "I... I think you look good, Ezra. Really good."

"Shh, just keep being Brandon," Ezra instructed, a playful smirk on his lips as he leaned in, capturing Theo's lips in a kiss that was both exploratory and demanding. After a moment, he pulled back slightly, "What would Brandon say if I kissed him like that?"

Theo, encouraged by Ezra's seduction, began to settle into Brandon's identity. "He'd probably say, 'Damn, Ezra, you're full of surprises. But I like 'em.'" His voice was gaining confidence, mimicking Brandon's casual arrogance.

Ezra laughed softly, his breath warm against Theo's skin. "And what would he do?"

Theo, now more playful, pulled Ezra closer, his hands finding his waist with a newfound boldness. "He'd pull you in like this, and say, 'You wanna play, roomie? Let's play.'"

Ezra let out a low moan, "Good. Now, what would Brandon want next?"

Theo, channeling Brandon's confident, friendly arrogance, whispered, "He'd want you to join him, to make this moment even more real." His voice was steady now, playful and teasing.

Ezra's eyes sparkled with desire. "Is that so? Well, let's not disappoint 'Brandon' then." With a fluid motion, Ezra undid his belt, letting his pants slide off, joining Theo on the bed fully. "What's next, 'Brandon'?"

Theo, feeling the heat of Ezra's body against his own, grinned, "He'd probably say, 'You're making this too easy, Ezra. But I like it.' And then maybe he'd..." Theo hesitated for a moment before continuing with a smirk, "He'd start kissing your neck, right?"

Ezra tilted his head back slightly, giving Theo access, his voice low and seductive, "Go on then, show me how 'Brandon' does it."

With a newfound confidence, Theo leaned in, his lips brushing against Ezra's neck, planting kisses that were firm and teasing, just as Brandon might do. He felt the thrill of embodying the jock's persona, the playful arrogance coming naturally now. "You like that, huh, Ezra?" Theo asked, his voice now a perfect mimic of Brandon's casual, cocky tone.

Ezra chuckled, his voice a soft moan, "Yeah, I do. What’s next Brandon?"

Theo's hands roamed over Ezra's back, pulling him closer with a confident grip. "I'd probably want to feel more of you, to make sure you're as into this as I am." His fingers traced the line of Ezra's spine with a deliberate slowness, savoring the reaction he elicited.

Ezra, feeling the shift in Theo's demeanor, whispered, "And what would you say if we went further?"

Theo, fully immersed in Brandon's identity, smirked, "Finally, took you long enough, man. Let's see what you've got." His tone was playful, almost challenging, as he watched Ezra's hands move to the blanket covering him.

Ezra smiled, his hands moving to pull the blanket away, revealing Theo fully. "Then let's not keep 'Brandon' waiting." As the blanket fell, Ezra took a moment to appreciate the view, his eyes dark with desire. "You look good, 'Brandon'. Really good."

"You know, Ezra, you've always been too fucking quiet for your own good," Theo said, his voice a low, teasing growl that was unmistakably Brandon's. "Let's see if we can make you scream tonight."

Ezra, his heart racing with anticipation, looked up at Theo with a mix of excitement and surrender. "Show me then, 'Brandon'."

Theo smirked, the cocky grin that was so characteristic of Brandon spreading across his face. He leaned down, his lips capturing Ezra's in a kiss that was commanding, leaving no room for doubt about who was in charge. His hands roamed over Ezra's body with purpose, guiding him to lie back on the bed.

With a fluid motion, Theo positioned himself above Ezra, his movements confident and assured. "You ready for this, roomie? 'Cause I'm gonna fuck you like you've never been fucked before," he said, his voice dripping with playful arrogance and a vulgar edge.

Ezra nodded, his breath hitching as he felt Theo's presence so close, so dominant. "Yeah, I'm ready."

Theo, now fully embracing the role of Brandon, didn't hesitate. He took Ezra's hands, pinning them gently above his head, his gaze intense. "Good, because I'm not holding back, you little slut," he whispered, his tone a mix of promise and challenge.

The room was filled with the soft sounds of their breathing, the rustle of sheets, and the low, appreciative moans from Ezra as Theo explored his body with a deliberate slowness, savoring each reaction. Theo's touch was firm, his movements those of someone who knew exactly what he wanted, and right now, what he wanted was Ezra.

As Theo prepared to take the lead, he maintained eye contact, ensuring Ezra was with him every step of the way. "You're gonna love this, Ezra," Theo said, his voice confident, as he positioned himself.

Ezra, caught in the throes of desire, could only nod, his body responding eagerly to Theo's dominance. The moment was charged with an electric intensity as Theo, embodying Brandon's assertiveness and vulgar charm, began to move with a rhythm that was both commanding and raw.

Their connection deepened with each thrust, each movement a testament to Theo's complete immersion into Brandon's identity. Ezra's moans grew louder, his hands gripping the sheets as Theo took him to heights of pleasure he hadn't known before.

"You like that, huh, you dirty boy?" Theo teased, his voice a husky whisper in Ezra's ear, maintaining the playful arrogance that had become his second nature. "Tell me how much you fucking love it."

"I... I love it," Ezra managed between gasps, his body arching into Theo's with every motion. "You act like him so well, Theo. You've made him so fucking edgy, and I love it."

As they reached the peak of their passion, Theo's confidence never wavered, his control over the situation absolute. The culmination of their encounter was explosive, leaving them both breathless and satisfied, as Theo came inside Ezra with a groan that was all Brandon's vulgar satisfaction.

In the quiet that followed, Ezra turned to Theo, his eyes soft with affection. "You know, if you could really stay as Brandon, I wouldn't mind at all. You could stay like this forever."

Theo chuckled, still in character, playing up the confusion with an ironic twist. "Stay as Brandon? What are you talking about, man? I am Brandon, you idiot. Always have been," he replied with a smirk, his tone playful yet convincing in its irony.

Then, as he lay there, still inside Ezra, Theo added with a mix of sincerity and vulgarity, "But you know what, Ezra? Your hole makes me crazy like no girl ever did. Fucking you, it's... it's something else, man."

Ezra laughed, the warmth of the moment enveloping them. "Right, 'Brandon', right. But seriously, you're incredible like this."

Theo, or 'Brandon', pulled Ezra closer, their bodies still intertwined. "Well, then, let's keep this going, roomie. Because I'm not going anywhere." And with that, they drifted into a contented sleep, the boundaries of their reality blurred by the magic of the night, the playful deception of identity, and the unique intimacy they had discovered.

[gallusrostromegalus]

Side bit of AEIWAM Lore for funsies: Akon and Shuuhei were roommates for a long time and still close friends.

What happened was Akon got a work release from prison as a kid so that Urahara could use him in the 12th*, but when Mayuri tried to promote Akon to seated officer some years later, Yamamoto put his foot down and demanded Akon actually receive some formal training as a shinigami before he would be allowed to command other shinigami. So An adolescent Akon had to enroll in Genryusai Academy the same year that Shuuhei FINALLY passed his entrance exams, and the two were assigned roommates.

The introverted and socially unskilled Akon latched onto outgoing pretty boy who makes friends with everyone Shuuhei like a remora latching onto a speedboat. He frequently asked (and STILL asks) Shuuhei the most are-you-a-space-alien social questions and took notes re: the answers. Shuuhei never noticed anything odd about Akon because he's operating on golden retriever "well they're not kicking me so I guess we're BEST FRIENDS FOREVER" rules.

The undiagnosed dyslexic/ADHD/OCD and six other major aniety disorders in a bucket Shuuhei latched onto "called out and corrected the teacher on day one and then assumed control of chemistry class" nerd Akon like a remora latching onto a speedboat. Akon never did Shuuhei 's homework for him, but he did basically personally tutor Shuuhei by tism ranting 24/7, and proofreading his work. Akon never noticed anything odd about this, because ofc you share knowledge and correct people mid-conversation, what the fuck do you think science is FOR?

Both were promoted to Seated Officers immediately after graduation but they still lived together in a shared off-division apartment for several years until Shuuhei made lieutenant and Akon became president of R&D and they both had to move into thier divisions full time, but they're both Members of the Shinigami Men's Association, and co-presidents (and only members) of the Seireitei Rat Fancy association. Shuuhei has had pet rats ever since he was a poor kid in the Rukongai, and Akon since he was a little kid in prison, and it was one of the things they really bonded over when they were in the dorms together, much to thier RA's horror.

Shuuhei wants to breed the softest, cuddliest rats with the longest lifespans possible. His prize animal now is "Florence", a doe with a positively satin-smoot coat approaching her twelth birthday with no real signs of aging so far. Akon is trying to breed rats large enough for him to ride into battle and his prize animals are a pair of Bucks called Gilbert and Sullivan who are approaching 40lbs apiece. They both spoil thier rats rotten.

Another thing they have in common is a love of Mahjong. Shuuhei learned to play (and make money on it) from his grandmother. Akon was taught the same by the other inmates at the maggot's nest, and in each other, finally found worthy opponents. Of course, Mahjong is best played with four people, so each of them has been trying to train others to play with mixed success. Akon has had made good players out of Nemu and 9th seat Niko Kuna (Mashiro's younger sister) but both of them are just as likely to want to play "Operation, but with a real body" and are not reliable partners. Shuuhei taught Tousen how to play and he's an exceptionally canny player and reliable partner, but often struggles to remember what tiles have actually been laid down, since his glasses tend to jumble the characters when trying to read the tiles to him.

Upon her return to Soul Society, Mashiro Kuna suggests they combine their interests and breed rats capable of playing Majong and both of them think about it for just a little bit longer than is reasonable.

---

*AEIWAM Akon actually hates Urahara's guts: While it was Urahara's signature on the work release, it was *Mayuri* that pettitioned that the child Akon be released from the maggot's nest. Mayuri really only wanted Akon for his expertise in biomechanics, but also did do the badgering of Urahara to get him out. Akon hates Urahara because when Urahara was in the 2nd division, he arrested Akon and threw him into the maggot's nest as a small child, just because he was born part Yokai.

Akon once described the debt he feels to Mayuri as "Imagine if a raccoon saved your life. Now imagine if the raccoon was a meth kingpin that could kill you with telepathy. You'd owe it forever but also. It's a little complicated, you know?"

This comes to something of a head after the winter war when there is a question about who is actually going to run the 12th as Mayuri is Goop, Nemu is emotionally compromised about him being Goop, Hiyori is only sort of qualified, Akon is even less qualified, Hikifune is in the royal realm, the 12th has completely locked down and gone on strike rather than let Urahara put one toe in the door, and there aren't that many captain-class people who also know... anything about scientific research or provisioning.

Yamamoto is forced to approach Tousen, who was forced to do all of Aizen's lab work is still in his mandated year of recovery and had been granted an actual, legal retirement by Yamamoto, to beg him to take over the 12th before they run out of food and/or the 12th actually explodes.

[thedissonantverses]

You are More than Your Scars:

Or Why Davrin and Bellara are our Elven Heroes in Veilguard

Davrin and Bellara represent the past, present, and future of the Dalish in Thedas. The way the writers used them as parallels of what being an elf means in this universe is endlessly fascinating to me as a long time Dragon Age fan.

Davrin we know has a complicated relationship with his clan and his past. As an adult who has been on his own, he recognizes what his clan was trying to teach him. As a kid he didn’t, and he went charging into the world with no regard for those lessons or his own safety. Clan life wasn’t for him, but he still carries the weight of all of that history with him. Uncle Eldrin did what he could. (Check out this write-up for a better look at Davrin's relationship with black fatherhood thanks to @master-of-the-elements) He could have gotten rich with his skillset and his need to challenge himself, but he chose the Wardens to find a sense of purpose in a world that doesn’t always give elves that choice.

He gets his hands bloody and makes the world a better place one monster at a time. Long before he meets Assan, he’s a protector first and a hunter second. He found his own way forward, one that combines the traditions of the Dalish with helping the people of Thedas now. All of the people of Thedas. As a Warden he also carries the weight of elven legends like Garahel. Elves have always lived and died to protect against the blight, and Davrin is no exception. Davrin is Thedas as it is now, where elf or warden or man can mean many different things, and it's how you define it the path going forward that matters.

Bellara also has a complicated relationship with her clan and with the past. We see this primarily through her brother Cyrian, but it's clear due to her neurodivergence she didn't necessarily fit in growing up and stands out even amongst Veil Jumpers. Losing her anchor in Cyrian, the person who knew her best, didn't help. People tend to dismiss Bellara because she talks too fast and thinks too fast and stumbles. But she's intensely passionate about her people's history and legacy and has devoted her life to the seeking of knowledge. She is exceptionally intelligent, she is kind, and she is ferocious in the defense of what she loves. She represents the side of the Dalish that have been seeking lost knowledge, but it's what she does with that that makes her so compelling. Learning not to shrink from that knowledge is crucial to her as a character.

Bellara, by careful design, has an existential crisis about the Evanuris and what they mean for the Dalish, who have already been through enough as a people. It's through Bellara we see what it means to learn about the horrors of your own history, and how to break away from it to make it better. That the many nuances and complications of the past don't need to define your relationship to your culture. You are more than the worst things that have been done to you and yours.

What both of these characters represent is not just an examination of generational trauma, but how to heal and move on from it. Davrin and Bellara, any way you slice it, are heroes. Everything from their arcs to their character design shows off what it means to be Dalish and I can't praise Veilguard enough for their inclusion.

[jenosbliss]

pairing. gn!reader x chenle | genre. enemies to lovers | wc. 1.6k | warnings. none | requested. here

Chenle had never been one to dwell on what-ifs.

He lived life with the confidence of someone who always knew the right thing to say, the perfect quip to lighten the mood or deflect attention. That’s what people liked about him—his charm, his humor, his ability to make you feel like the most important person in the room, even if only for a moment.

But with you, it was different.

From the moment you met, there was something about you that knocked him off balance. It wasn’t just your quick wit or the way you always seemed to see through his playful façade. It was the fire in your eyes, the way you met his banter head-on without ever backing down.

He liked you. He’d liked you from the start.

But when he realized you didn’t feel the same, that your heart was already spoken for, he buried those feelings deep. Better to turn his affection into irritation, to let his frustration fuel the constant sparring that had become the foundation of your relationship.

“Chenle’s staring at you again,” Yeri had whispered once, nudging your side during a group study session.

You didn’t even glance up from your notes. “He’s probably plotting my demise.”

“Or,” she teased, “he’s just obsessed with you.”

You rolled your eyes, dismissing the comment with a wave of your hand. Chenle? Obsessed with you? The idea was laughable.

He’d certainly never shown you anything but aggravation. Every interaction between you was laced with sarcasm and thinly veiled insults. He was the Literature major who mocked your essays, and you were the Toxicology student who criticized his lack of scientific knowledge. It was a game you’d been playing since the first week of university, and neither of you seemed willing to call a truce.

But beneath the barbs and jabs, there was something unspoken, something simmering just beneath the surface.

The shift came after your breakup.

Your ex had been toxic in every sense of the word. Manipulative, controlling, the kind of person who made you doubt your worth even as they claimed to love you. The end had been messy, leaving you raw and guarded.

Chenle knew about it, of course. Everyone in your friend group did. But while the others offered you quiet sympathy or avoided the topic altogether, Chenle treated you the same as always.

Or so it seemed.

The café was loud, filled with the hum of chatter and the clinking of cups. Your group of friends occupied a long table in the corner, half-eaten pastries and abandoned cups of coffee scattered across its surface.

You arrived late, sliding into the seat furthest from Chenle, only for him to notice immediately. “Don’t worry,” he said, raising his coffee cup with a smirk. “I’m not contagious.”

“Shame,” you shot back. “Maybe if you were, people would finally avoid you.”Your friends groaned in unison, half amused, half exasperated.

“Here we go again,” muttered Yeri, shaking her head. “Can you two go one day without trying to kill each other?”

“She started it,” Chenle said defensively, leaning back in his chair. “I’m finishing it,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him. His grin widened. “You wish.”

The meeting went on, but the tension between you and Chenle simmered beneath every conversation. At one point, he made a snide comment about your choice of coffee (“Basic, just like your taste in guys”), and you retaliated with a jab about his lack of emotional depth (“Makes sense, considering you’re incapable of forming meaningful connections”).

Your friends had learned to tune you out by now. After a while, the group began to disperse, one by one heading back to their dorms or classes. Soon, it was just you and Chenle left.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” you asked, packing up your things. “Why? Am I ruining your day?” he asked, his smirk never wavering. “You ruin everyone’s day,” you snapped.

He chuckled, standing up and leaning on the table between you. “It’s hot when you talk back, you know that?” You froze, your brain short-circuiting for a moment before you glared at him. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Why not? You’re doing it for me.”

“God, you’re insufferable,” you muttered, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Admit it,” he said, following you toward the exit. “You’d miss me if I weren’t around.”

You turned to face him, your annoyance bubbling over. “Not everything is a joke, Chenle.”

“Not everything has to be serious either,” he shot back, his tone sharper now.

“Why do you always do this?” you demanded. “Why do you always push and push until people can’t stand you?” His jaw tightened, the teasing edge in his eyes replaced by something darker. “Maybe I’m not the only one pushing,” he said.

You scoffed, brushing past him. “Whatever. I don’t have time for this.”

“Still not over him?” he asked, his tone cutting as you stopped in your tracks not turning to face him. “None of your business,” you shot back.

“Just saying,” he continued, his smirk unwavering. “Didn’t know you were this pathetic.” The comment stung, but what hurt more was the look in his eyes—like he wanted to take it back but didn’t know how.

You didn’t see the way his hands clenched into fists under the table, or how his smile faltered as you turned away and left.

The tension between you only grew worse after that. Every interaction felt like a battle, each of you throwing verbal punches that landed harder than you intended. Your friends noticed, but no one dared to intervene.

It all came to a head one night at a party. The party was a mistake.

The music was loud, the room packed with people. You’d come with your friends, hoping for a distraction, but the moment you saw Chenle across the room, you knew peace wasn’t in the cards.

He was leaning against the wall, laughing with someone you vaguely recognized. When his gaze landed on you, his smile faltered for a split second before returning, sharper than ever.

You ignored him, heading to the kitchen for a drink. But of course, he followed. “Thirsty?” he asked, his voice dripping with mock concern. “For alcohol, not your company,” you retorted, pouring yourself a drink.

He leaned against the counter, watching you with a smirk. “How’s life post-red flags?” Your grip on the cup tightened. “Toxicology major and still couldn’t see all those red flags?” he pressed, his tone infuriatingly smug.

You turned to him, your eyes blazing as you hissed. “Literature major and still couldn’t write yourself a happy ending?”

The words hung in the air, sharp and cutting.

Chenle’s smirk disappeared, his jaw tightening. “At least I don’t pretend I’m fine when I’m not,” he said, his voice low. Your breath caught, the weight of his words sinking in.

“Go to hell, Chenle,” you said, your voice shaking as you pushed past him.

He caught up with you in the hallway, his hand wrapping around your wrist as he pulled you into an empty room.

“What the hell is your problem?” you demanded, yanking your arm away. “My problem?” he repeated, his voice rising. “You’re the one who keeps acting like you’re untouchable, like nothing can hurt you.”

“Because I don’t have the luxury of falling apart!” you shot back. “Not everyone can just skate through life without consequences.”

“You think I don’t have consequences?” he asked, stepping closer. “You think I don’t feel things?” You laughed bitterly. “Feel what, Chenle? Annoyance? Pride? What could you possibly care about besides yourself?”

“You,” he said, the word exploding out of him like a confession. The room went silent, the air thick with unspoken tension. “What?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“All I want,” he said, his voice shaking with frustration, “is for you to look at me the way you look at them. The way you looked at him.” Your heart raced, his words cutting through every wall you’d built around yourself.

You looked away trying to protect those walls from breaking, nibbling down on your bottom lip as you tried to speak “Chenle—”

“If you bite your lip one more time,” he interrupted, his voice low and dangerous, “I’m going to do it for you.” Your breath caught, the electricity between you crackling like a live wire. “Then do it,” you whispered, the challenge slipping out before you could stop it.

He didn’t hesitate.

Chenle closed the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was raw, desperate, filled with all the frustration and longing you’d both been too afraid to acknowledge.

His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer as you tangled your fingers in his hair, each of you pouring months of pent-up emotion into the kiss. His touch was soft unlike the way he kissed you — rough.

And when you finally pulled apart, your foreheads pressed together, the air between you felt charged, like the calm after a storm.

“This doesn’t change anything,” you said, your voice trembling. “Maybe not,” he replied, his lips brushing against yours again. “But it’s a start.”

The tension between you didn’t disappear after that night, but it shifted.

Your arguments were just as sharp, your banter just as biting. But there was something different now—an undercurrent of something deeper, something neither of you could put into words.

And as much as you hated to admit it, you didn’t want it to go away.

navigation.

masterlist. nct dream | nct 127 | wayv

[imawreck]

Darkness

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Reader

Summary: You're left with flushed cheeks and a shared secret with the darkest part of Bucky Barnes... and you want more.

Author's Note: You guys fucking DEVOURED the last one so this is the sequel to the previous part, His. It makes more sense if you read the other first! If you like this content, drop a comment or an ask and I'll be sure to write more like it in the future! It gets a little feral and I won't apologize for it. Also, there is possibly a part three on the table if this ship sails like the last.

Warnings: Choking kink, metal arm kink, Cursing, mentions self loathing/guilt (it’s Bucky, kinda normal), Possessive!Winter Soldier, hair pulling, fingering, Dominant!Winter Soldier, hickeys, bruising, PnV, praise kink if you squint, licking, oral (fem receiving), knife play (?) and probably some more but those are the big ones.

Word Count: 6,899

It had been two days.

Two days since you’d tried and failed to lure the Winter Soldier into a cell. Two days since you’d felt his hands on your body.

Two days since he’d given you a taste of what you could have.

He’d left his mark on more than just your skin. Though bruises and love bites littered your neck, it was your mind that he’d left the most impact on.

There was hardly a moment you weren’t thinking about him, about Winter. About what would’ve happened if the agents hadn’t stormed the stairwell. If he’d been able to keep going.

And you wondered if you’d ever get another chance to see.

Bucky had recovered, his mind once more his own. You didn’t know if he remembered, or if he would say anything to you even if he did. It’d been radio silence from everyone in the tower other than Steve, who’d been checking in on you to make sure you were really alright. You were sure Thor would be here hounding you if he was on the planet too.

Apparently, the earpiece had fallen out a little after he’d cornered you. So Steve and whoever else that was watching over you didn’t hear much of the conversation you’d exchanged with the assassin. They’d had to rely on the cameras, which hadn’t been able to see you past the wall of a man caging you between his arms.

Which means none of them had seen what had happened, that this was something only you carried the knowledge of. A small part of you was relieved.

That still left one question unanswered: Did Bucky remember?

A sharp knock jolted you from your thoughts, dragging you back to the present. 

Blowing out a breath, you got up and headed towards the door. “Steve, I told you I’m fine. I—“

But when you opened the door, it wasn’t Steve on the other side.

It was strange how different those blue eyes were when it was Bucky at the wheel instead of Winter. Lively, pooling with emotion where you’d seen cold calculation and unbridled lust just days before.

It was guilt swimming in those eyes now, red rimmed and bloodshot. His dark hair was disheveled like he’d been running his fingers through it all afternoon, and he wore a loose pair of sweats and a black long sleeve despite the summer heat.

He looked scared and out of place standing in the hall.

“I—uh, hey.” A poor attempted smile wobbled onto his face, and he brought his flesh hand up to run through his hair—a nervous habit he had when he was uncomfortable or anxious — just like you’d guessed. “Can we talk?”

You opened your mouth to answer him but no words left it. You could only stare up at him and nod, feet shuffling back to pull the door open further.

Bucky’s frame squeezed through the door and he padded further into your space with wandering eyes and furrowed brows.

It was impossible not to notice the changes you’d made in the last few months since your breakup. Bucky used to frequently stay with you, favoring your bright and comforting space over his own empty room. You liked your knick-knacks, and you were a sucker for creature comforts so you always had the softest blankets and the fluffiest pillows. And you’d always made sure Bucky had things he liked in your space.

You used to keep his favorite coffee stocked in the mini breakfast bar you’d made on a bar cart, and his favorite pillow and throw blanket was always neatly folded in the armchair by the window. You’d even set out copies of his favorite books in case he wanted to relax in your room instead of the commons area or his own space. 

But now it was gone. The little pieces of him you’d made room for were removed along with the photos that used to line your walls and bookcase. Save for the one, of course.

And it stung to see the reality of what he’d done, the choice he’d made now reflected in the absence of everything he’d built with you. 

He pried his eyes away from the empty shelves of your bookcase and glanced back at you, shuffling his feet awkwardly. “I… Steve said that I went after you when I got back.”

His statement hung in the air for a few seconds, silence crowding you both and making him tense his shoulders the longer it remained. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, “I can’t imagine how awful that was for you. I-I never wanted you to see me like that. That- He’s not me, okay? God, I’m so sorry.” His fingers scraped over his scalp as he clenched his teeth, turning away and pacing a few steps.

Bucky couldn’t look at you, not after what he’d done. What he’d forced you to witness. He’d never wanted you to see him like that. It was one of his worst nightmares when you had been dating, and now it was a brutal reality.

“Bucky,” you started, but he cut you off.

“Did I hurt you? Did… did I do something to you?”

It struck you then that he didn’t remember what he’d done. What Winter had done. And your room was too dark at the moment to see what remained painted on your skin from the encounter.

You were both relieved, and utterly frustrated. Now what do you do? ‘Oh yeah, Bucky! I let you finger me with your metal arm in a stairwell for shits and giggles while you were all killer mode. No biggie.’ And then what, ask for him to do it again?

Yeah, definitely not.

“You didn’t hurt me, Bucky.” Your legs moved on their own accord, drawn forward by his obvious distress and the instinctual need to sooth his worries. “I’m fine, really.”

Bucky finally turned to face you, his eyes filled with sorrow. He chewed his cheek, his eyes searching your face for any hint of a lie. “I can't remember what happened, there's just glimpses.” His voice lowered, softened by the weight of his words and the fear woven in his tone. “But I can feel him. Stronger than before. Something’s different this time.”

You stilled at that, eyes glued to the side of his face. 

“I can feel what he felt. I-it's like he’s just behind a curtain.” His right arm came up, his index finger tapping his temple, “Waiting.”

The haunted look in his eyes twisted a knife of guilt in your gut. You didn’t want him to feel guilty for what had happened, but it was unfortunately normal for Bucky. You understood it, respected his boundaries and his need to do anything he could to keep you safe. But you wanted exactly what he was keeping from you.

You wanted it so badly.

Could you tell him? Could you confide in him this secret you’d kept from lovers in the past? Something so twisted that you’d only shared it with someone equally as sadistic as you were flawed? Bucky was so much more important to you than any of them had been. You… you felt deeply for him. And it was obvious that the unknown was weighing on him heavily.

One more look at his shattered expression gave you your answer.

With a frustrated huff, you reached for his hand. You tugged it from where it’d curled itself into his hair again, and led him to the edge of your bed. “Bucky,” you started, keeping your voice as gentle as you could. “I need to tell you something. It’s going to be hard to understand, and you’ll probably think very differently of me, but I think it might lessen the burden I can see you’re putting on yourself.”

Bucky’s eyes fixed on you. Those brows furrowed over confused and tortured eyes, but it was obvious that he would listen.

You bit your lip, beginning to sweat as the nerves rattled through you. “First of all, I… I haven’t told anyone this. It’s not something I’m proud of, but rather something that just is. And it didn’t start with you. I mean—,” you let out a sound of frustration, “Fuck, I mean I didn’t date you because of it. It just sort of grew more complicated as we got closer.”

Those brows furrowed more and twisted his face into more concern than anything.

You kept going. “When you came after me, I was scared. Of course I would be.” You winced at the hurt that flashed in his eyes, but continued on, “But I also… I liked it.” 

A shaky, bitter laugh left you. “I liked the chase. I liked it when he cornered me against the wall, when he—,” you paused, a feeling akin to resignation and begrudging acceptance settling into your bones. Your eyes found his metal hand, gazing at the light bouncing off the silver metal. “When he choked me with that hand.”

You buried your face in your palms, tears of shame threatening to leak from your eyes. “You didn’t hurt me. He didn’t hurt me, Bucky. He just brought to light these things I thought I’d kept from you.” 

With another breath, one that felt like needles sinking into your lungs, you went on. “He made me feel good, Buck, in all the ways I’d always hoped you would someday. I feel like the worst person in the world for thinking that, for feeling the way I do, but I can’t help it.”

You couldn’t meet his eyes. Shame was writhing in your stomach and threatening to consume you. Tears pricked your eyes and wet your palms that still remained pressed to your face. 

Bucky didn’t say a word, and you just let the silence thicken the air. You’d already said everything there was to say.

Your sin was bared for his judgment. “I get that you don’t want to be with me anymore—“

“That’s a lie.”

Your head snapped up at that, teary eyes wide as you took in his surprised expression. An expression you watched morph into confusion, and then something else. Realization, maybe.

Bucky went on, “I never wanted to stop being with you, Y/N.”

A piece of you settled deep in your soul at that confession, and you leaned in to listen. Every word from his lips an answer to the question haunting your every thought for the past three months.

“On that mission, we came across intel that there might be a mole in the tower and that they were going to try and trigger the Winter Soldier. I… I was scared, Y/N.” Grief washed over his face as he folded his hands together, knuckles turning white. “I was so scared that you’d see me like that and be afraid of me. I was terrified of hurting you, of— of killing you, that I had to make it look like you didn’t matter to me. I had to make it real, so that whoever saw you and I would think you didn’t matter and leave you alone. I was trying to make you less of a target.”

Your heart thundered in your chest at his confession, at the thought that these past two months of utter disaster had been the result of Bucky trying to protect you from himself. 

“You could’ve talked to me,” you muttered, sniffing and wiping your face in a poor attempt to rid it of the mascara you knew had run. “You could’ve told me what was going on.”

Bucky’s head shook, “There wasn’t time. You have to understand.”

You nodded, even if you didn’t truly understand. The guilt and remorse on his face told you he was on the edge of crumbling, and if agreeing with him kept him from breaking, you’d give it to him.

Another long silence blanketed the two of you. You watched his face, his eyes, as his mind mulled over the information you had exchanged with him.

Those blue eyes found your’s after a while, something steely in them that wasn’t there before. “Friday?”

The AI of Stark Tower answered politely, “Yes, Mr. Barnes?”

“Initiate Soldier Protocol in Y/N’s room and cut camera feed. Don’t alert anyone.”

Soldier Protocol. 

Your eyes widened, and a chill ran over your skin. Soldier Protocol was something Bucky had come up with when you’d first started dating. It was a safety protocol installed into yours and his own room to ensure that if the Winter Soldier was triggered, it would keep whoever was in the room safe, or keep whoever was trying to get inside from entering. It was a double edged sword, really, because if you were trapped in the room with him, then you couldn’t get out. Bucky had made sure to teach you some basic self defense moves on the very slim chance that would ever happen and had shown you ways that you could use to evade and make an escape to the bathroom if needed. Even though you’d thought of all the holes in the protocol, you couldn’t bear to voice them if it helped ease Bucky’s nerves knowing that if something were to happen, that you’d have an extra wall to keep him from getting to you.

“Confirm Command; Soldier Protocol, Miss Y/N?”

You hesitated, voice wavering just the slightest as you whispered, “Are you sure?”

Bucky nodded slowly, giving you the confidence you needed to answer the AI.

“Confirm Soldier Protocol, Friday. No alerts or cameras.”

The calming voice answered once more. “Command Confirmed. Soldier Protocol initiated.”

Your eyes followed the windows as metal safety doors shut out the dim light of the day. One after another they locked out the outside world and left the two of you inside the confines of your bedroom. 

You and Bucky, and your confessions.

“He wants out, Y/N.” It was barely a whisper, but the low timbre of Bucky’s voice reverberated in your bones. “He wants you.”

There was concern laced in his words, but there was also more. So much more that you knew you’d have to talk about later. You’d have time to unpack all of this, what it means for the two of you, later. Right now?

Right now you needed Winter as desperately as you needed air.

“What… How can I help you, Bucky?” Your hands shook at the thought of Winter's return. Of what it would bring.

Bucky pulled his lip between his teeth, his hands running through his hair before twisting themselves in his lap. His eyes were wide, as if he didn’t quite believe he would say the words spilling from his own mouth. “I want you to trigger the Winter Soldier. Feeling him there— it’s driving me mad. An-and now that we know he won’t hurt you and that you… you want him—.”

You reached for his hand, concerned that if he kept squeezing them as tight as he was that he’d break bone. “Bucky, it’s okay.” You tilted your head, smiling softly at him, “Take a breath. There’s a few things I want to set straight before we jump into this.”

His voice lowered, “Okay.”

Bucky was obviously torn up over this whole thing. And as excited as you were to repeat what went on in that stairwell, this was someone you cared about for more than just sex. 

This was Bucky. 

This was the man who’d apologized with the biggest bouquet of flowers you’d ever laid eyes on the day after your first encounter with Winter. The same man who’d apologized for months after with cute little notes and trinkets he knew you loved and still kept in that shoebox under your bed. The exact same man you’d opened your heart to one Saturday night over a tub of butterscotch ice cream and the third playthrough of your favorite movie. He didn’t complain that you’d watched it back to back either.

This was the man you’d fallen in love with in just a few short months.

The realization settled into your heart, and that warm tingly feeling swept over you as you tightened your hold on his flesh hand and reached for his metal one too.

Bucky hesitated, jerking it away for a moment before allowing you to tug it into your lap. “Buck,” you started, thumbs swiping over his hands in slow calming paths. “It isn’t just the Winter Soldier I like about you. You know that, right? Because if you don’t, I’ve failed as your lover. And as your friend.” 

Those blue eyes darted between your own, searching there like a man searching for salvation. You gave his hands another squeeze, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I… I love you, Bucky. You. I think I’ve known for a while now. I was just too scared to admit it out loud. I haven’t had the best run with guys in the past, and you’re so good that I was afraid I’d ruin you somehow.”

Your eyes fell to your joined hands, and this time he was the one to squeeze back.

“I know it’s kind of shitty timing, but I need you to understand that I’m not with you for any other reason other than the simple fact that I adore you, Bucky Barnes. Everything about you.” You shook your head, frowning. “I meant it when I told you I wasn’t with you just because of Winter. I’ve always had this attraction to… well, you know. Dating you just made it more difficult to hide when you were obviously so uncomfortable with it. I didn’t want to make things hard for you. I just wanted you to be happy.”

“Doll,” he mumbled, the name drawing your eyes to him. You’d always loved it when he called you that. “Say it again.”

You frowned, confused for a moment, before a small smile drew itself onto your face. “I love you, Bucky.”

A choked sound fell from his lips before his arms circled around your waist and pulled you into his lap, his face inches from yours. “Again. Say it again,” he begged, his  breath fanned over your face as his fingers fisted the back of your shirt. “Please, doll, say it again.”

You folded your legs around his hips, threading your fingers into his hair and peppering kisses on his face. “I love you.”

“Me?” It was the most broken sound you’d ever heard.

You grabbed his face, tilting it up to look at you and tried your best to pour every ounce of love into your expression. “You, James. I love you. I’ll say it a billion times if I have to until I get it through that ridiculously handsome head of yours.”

He laughed at that, broken as it sounded. “I love you too, Y/N. God, I fucking love you.”

Soft lips crashed into yours, dancing a familiar dance as his flesh hand slipped under your shirt and glided up your spine. Your breath caught as the cool sensation of his metal fingers followed after it, his arm wrapping around your back. You smiled against his lips, leaning into him more.

You nearly pouted when he pulled away.

“Y/N,” those eyes, less uncertain and more determined now, swept over your face. “I want you to trigger him.”

You frowned, “But Bucky, you—.”

“I need this.” His voice was surprisingly steady, “I need to do this otherwise it’ll drive me mad. Feeling him there— Jesus, it’s like someone’s scraping a knife against my skull.”

Metal fingers drew circles against your back, “Are you okay with… with seeing him again? I’m not confident enough to do what he did yet. I need more time to come to terms with the damage this hand has done.” He pulled the appendage away, looking it over before his eyes found you again. “But I… I can tell he won’t hurt you. I can feel it,” he pulled his flesh hand away and pressed it over his heart. “Right here.”

He laughed, almost incredulously. “Even the Winter Soldier has fallen in love with you.”

All you could hear was the pounding of your heart in your ears. He wanted you to trigger the Winter Soldier. He said that he loved you, and that Winter did too. 

It would really fucking suck if you were dreaming.

“I don’t know your words,” you mumbled, suddenly shy in the light of his proclamation.

This time, the smile he gave was one that reminded you of those old photos from the 40s you’d seen in the history museum. The one where the left side crooks up a bit more than the right. He didn’t release you, but instead wrapped his left arm around your hips and leaned back to rifle through the top drawer of your nightstand for the notepad you always left in there.

He pulled it back to himself and released you only long enough to scribble down a few words and tear off the page. “You’ll have to memorize them. I don’t want them to leave this room.”

You nodded, because of course he wouldn’t and you’d rather swallow hot coals than ever betray him. Your eyes scanned the page a dozen times when he handed it to you, lips moving in silence as you played with the foreign vowels. 

All the while those strong hands of his trailed along your back and hips, sometimes exploring your upper thigh. 

It made your mind foggy, and you had to keep yourself from squinting to focus.

After you’d finally memorized them, you remove yourself from Bucky’s lap and padded over to your bookcase. You snagged the candle lighter from a shelf, and then removed the bag from your trash bin. It took a few tries, but once the lighter ignited, you let the flames eat away at the page before dropping it into the bin and watching until it was nothing but ash at the bottom.

You could hear a breath of relief leave the soldier from where he remained seated at the edge of your bed. He looked somewhat relaxed, but a tension still ran along his shoulders.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You returned to the bed, smiling a bit as his arms wrapped around the back of your thighs.

Bucky hummed, low and steady. “M’sure, Doll.” He leaned his head against your stomach, and your hands found his hair on instinct.

He hummed again at the touch, and his arms tightened around your legs before he lifted you. Bucky turned quickly, one knee coming up onto the bed before he laid you down with a thump on the mattress.

You smiled, laughing a little as you bounced from the sudden drop. Bucky grinned back, his eyes shining. “Missed you, you know. I’m sorry for not telling you.” He leaned over you, hands planting on either side of your head. Nothing but honesty shined in those blue eyes as he looked down at you. “I’m sorry for wasting three months, and I promise I won’t do that again.”

Butterflies stirred in your belly, and you could feel the flush of heat on your neck as you leaned up and planted a kiss on his lips, “Better not.” 

Before you could think much of it, Bucky reached over and flicked the lamp on. You were too busy feeling fuzzy inside that you’d forgotten the very prominent marks littering the delicate flesh of your neck.

Marks that would always make Bucky drown in guilt.

“Fuck, doll.” 

He stared at your neck, horror painting his face in the lamplight. His body lifted until he was sitting on his knees over you, hands resting on his lap like he didn’t know what to do with them as he took in the damage he’d left.

This is exactly what you didn’t want to happen. “Hey, no—,” you gripped the front of his shirt, the sudden motion catching him off guard as you pulled yourself up to his face, forcing him to look you in the eyes. You would’ve liked to yank him back over you, but you lacked the ability to battle his serum-enhanced strength. Sitting up did just fine.

“You don’t get to feel guilty for this. Not now, and not anytime after this if you… if we’re serious about doing this.” You stared him down, unwilling to allow him even a glance away. “I told you, I liked it. I told you that it didn’t hurt. You need to trust me as much as I trust you in this. That’s the only way this,” you motioned between you both, “is going to work.” You lowered your voice, nearly mumbling the last part. “I can’t take another step back, Buck. Not after three months, and definitely not after that.”

Bucky’s eyes danced between yours for a few moments. They darted down to your marred skin and back again several times before he blew out a breath and nodded reluctantly. 

Your shoulders eased too. 

“Now come back here and kiss me, soldier. Your girl’s in need.” You smiled, quirking a playful brow in an attempt to draw him back in.

It worked. That smile pulled at his lips, small at first but quickly blooming as you began peppering his jaw with kisses.

The kisses started gentle and exploring, and the touches soft and sweet. You hadn’t felt his skin against yours for three long months, save for two days ago, and you’d missed everything that made him Bucky.

You’d missed how the stubble of his chin brushed your cheeks when you kissed, and how he held your face like you were the most precious thing he’d ever touched. Delicate and worthy of worship.

You’d missed him so much it hurt.

“Bucky,” you panted, tugging his shirt as you kissed him. “I love you.”

A deep, rumbling groan left him, and his tongue swept across your bottom lip. “I love you, Y/N. So damn much.”

His flesh hand cupped the back of your neck and guided your head to the side so he could place the tenderest kisses over each hickey Winter had left. “He’s a brute,” Bucky mumbled against the column of your throat, stealing your breath. “If he hurts you–.”

“He won’t, James.” You pressed your forehead to his shoulder, biting your lip as his flesh hand trailed all the way from your neck to the base of your spine. “I know it.”

You only got a hum in response before his lips crashed into yours again. Bucky’s hands were everywhere, confident and warm on one side and tentative and gentle with the other, much colder one. The contrast sent delicious tingles along your skin wherever he touched and only served to heighten your anticipation.

This was the first time Bucky himself had allowed so much of a brush of his metal arm against you, let alone tender touch.

His palms mapped every dip and crest of your body, his touch growing more needy with each sweep of his skin against yours. His tongue slid over your lips again, a silent request that you were all too happy to accept.

You couldn’t help the satisfied sound that escaped you as the taste of him swept over you, familiar and strong. Things only hastened from there. It was like a switch had flipped and he couldn’t bear not to have his hands on you.

He kissed you hard, chasing you with lips and tongue like a man starved. The feather light touches of his hands turned more firm as he held your hips and pulled you closer. Bucky’s chest heaved, his breaths fanning over you between kisses in hot puffs.

You could tell he was still holding back. That he needed this as much as the burning need in your core told you that you did. “Bucky,” the sound was practically a whine, “Please.”

His fingers curled against your hips, “Fuck. Okay, okay.” Wet kisses were trailed down your neck as his hands slipped beneath your shirt to sweep calloused thumbs over your aching nipples. “Say them, doll. Say the words.”

You deserved a fucking gold metal for succeeding to pull your mind out of the fog he’d clouded your brain with. It always happened with him. Your mind just short circuited every time he cast you a heated glance, and this? Well, it was a miracle you could remember your own name.

You opened your mouth, the words you’d memorized tumbling out one after another. 

“Longing.” Bucky grunted, but didn’t stop in his ministrations as you spoke the next. 

“Rusted.” Another grunt, and a tremor through his shoulders, but his lips never left your skin. In fact, it just seemed to spur him further as his hands tugged your shirt down to reveal the delicate skin of your breasts.

“Furn-,” you gasped as his lips locked onto a nipple, tongue teasing expertly over the nub. “Furnace.”

The hum he released sent skittering tingles across your body in the most delicious way.

“Finish, baby.” 

Fucking hell. What was the next word?

“Daybreak,” his hands lowered to your ass and held it firmly against him as he licked and sucked the sensitive skin of your breasts, never missing a beat. “Seventeen.”

Those devilish hands dragged lower, fingers trailing along the seam of your panties through your leggings and along the underside of your thighs where they met the curve of your ass. Inches from where you needed him most.

You could barely suck in a breath, utterly overwhelmed by the sensation of his mouth on your skin and those hands mapping your body in agonizingly slow strokes that sent waves of need straight to your core. “Benign,” his body arched over yours, easing you into the mattress, “Nine.”

Another shudder this time, and you could see the ripple of muscle beneath that tight black shirt. God did you want it off of him.

“Homecoming.” 

A groan, and a shake of his head. It was the first indicator that he was uncomfortable.

 You hesitated at the pained sound, but you didn’t have time to ask a thing though. Not when his head snapped up and those wide, wild blue eyes found yours. “Don’t stop,” he panted, cheeks flushed.

So you didn’t.

“One.”

Wet lips trailed kisses down the exposed skin of your stomach, the tips of his dark hair trailing down as he kissed past your naval and kept going. Lower, lower, lower…

“Freight Car.” The words sounded strangled in your throat through your labored breathing.

The kisses stopped abruptly, and Bucky’s body went stock still.

You weren’t even sure he was breathing until the even rush of an exhale swept against your stomach.

And then he chuckled.

 It wasn’t the kind you’d normally hear from Bucky. It wasn’t filled with joy, or playfulness. This one sounded depraved and downright corrupt.

The hairs on your neck raised, and that sharp bite of panic jolted through you as you stared down at his large frame hovering over you. You couldn’t see his face from this angle, and the lack of any hint of what was going through his head only heightened the tension building in your body.

“Told you, didn’t I?” His voice was a rumble in the silence, and you gasped when his tongue swept a path up the center of your belly. “You fucking need me.”

Cold fingers hooked the waistband of your leggings and shucked them off in one quick motion, the cool air assaulting your exposed skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake. You simply stared up at him and tried to remember to breathe beneath the weight of his eyes on your body.

Those cold, lust-lidded eyes.

“Winter,” you breathed, a thrum of excitement mingling with the nerves tingling under your skin. The ache you felt was at the forefront of your mind. Bucky’s gentle touches had served to stir the need that was already brewing.

Now, Winter has come to finish the job.

He smiled, slow and sultry. “Needy little thing, aren't you, Dollface?”

You bit your lip as heat crept up your neck.

Winter’s body rose to his knees, his hands curling around your thighs in a bruising grip and lifting them over his shoulders. You yelped, but it didn’t stop him. Those thick corded forearms locked your legs in place over his shoulders, his face centimeters from your core and the stubble of his jaw tickling your thighs.

You were almost certain you'd soaked through the thin pair of panties you wore.

His hands dragged up your thighs, fingers slipping beneath the fabric at your hips as he held your eyes. 

And then he ripped them at the seams. The puny fabric fell to the mattress in tatters, and all you could do was gawk at him.

“Don’t wear those when you’re with me.” Winter ordered against your thigh, his tongue swiping a path up the inner stripe of skin. 

The action sent another wave of want through you, the anticipation of what he was going to do serving to build your nerves higher and higher.

He drew you closer by your hips, humming against your skin. The sweep of hot air over you was a welcome sensation and you arched into it. Your heart pounded, and the angle in which your body was held, your head still resting against the mattress along with your shoulders, made it hard to think. 

Winter stopped just short of brushing his lips over your sensitive clit. You could’ve cried right then and there. Blinking up at him, you caught the wicked grin plastered on his face.

The soldier above you looked downright god-like bathed in the dim light of the room. His eyes gleamed, and that silver arm danced with every move he made. Every devious stroke of cool fingers against your body.

You knew this exact image would be carved into your mind for the rest of your life.

“Beg for it,” he ordered, his grip turning nearly bruising. “Tell me how badly you want it.” His lips brushed your core, just a whisper of scruff on your sensitive skin. 

You squirmed in response, chasing the feeling. Normally, you would rather die than beg a man for anything. But Winter? He had a special way of breaking you down. “Please, Winter, please. I-I want you. I want you to–.”

He didn’t even let you finish before his tongue delved into your core. 

You felt every sweep, every brush of that expert muscle laving over you. Desperate, needy sounds were echoing through your room, and a part of you knew they were yours. That they were spilling from your parted lips in broken sentences begging him for more. You were too focused on where his tongue toyed with you to care about anything else, though. Every pass of his tongue on your clit, or a sweep against your clenching walls made it harder and harder to ground yourself.

You were crawling closer and closer to the edge.

Your fingers were curled into the bedspread, and your hips ground into his face and bucked against the solid grip of his arms over your thighs. Winter groaned into your heat, the rumbling vibrations pushing you closer to euphoria.

Dazed, you tried to focus on his face, tried to make out his features in your love-drunk state. 

Winter's eyes were closed, and his face never came up once for air. Not even when you could feel his chest shuttering, and those muffled grunts became more frequent.

And God did they feel good.

Your chest heaved, your legs trying and failing to move an inch against his iron grip. As those vibrating groans shoved you over the edge with a cry.

Your brain couldn’t focus, not with all the blood rushing through your head and the thundering sound of your own heart in your ears, or the blissful sensation of release crashing over you in waves. 

“So dirty, Dollface. Letting me ruin you like this.” Winter eased his grip on your shaky legs, his hands dragging up your thighs to grip your hips. “Letting me brand you, taste you…” He licked his lips, tasting you on his stubbled face. His body leaned forward, your legs parting around his hips as he planted a burning kiss to your lips, “Fucking perfect.”

You panted, blinking to focus on his words as you came back to yourself.

Winter was lifting himself off of you, his eyes raking over your disheveled form as he slipped off the bed and stood to his full height. Those blue eyes held nothing but burning desire, muscles flexing as he yanked off his shirt and rewarded you with the view of his sweat slicked torso. 

The sight was erotic. His hair damp with sweat, and his face glossy with the remnants of your release, chest heaving as he sucked in much needed air.

Winter reached forward, his cool fingers wrapping around your ankle and tugging you towards the edge of the bed with a wicked grin. “Gonna make you come again, Dollface. Need to hear those pretty sounds you make.” His flesh hand grabbed your calf, pulling you closer. “Wanna hear my name on your lips again, and again, and again.”

His metal fingers gripped your thigh hard enough to leave bruises, but that didn’t bother you. You loved the reminders that littered your skin from the last time Winter branded you with his affections, and you relished each one that would follow. 

With a quick, strong motion, he flipped you on your stomach. Your chest bounced against the bedsheets, the friction against your pebbled nipples sent a jolt of pleasure down to your toes making you moan into the comforter as he brought your hips up and adjusted your knees against the bed.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” He panted, pressing himself against your ass.

You could feel him through the sweats still hanging from his hips. The length of him pressed firmly against you, brushing your sensitive core and making you groan again. You wanted to feel him, needed to know what it was like to be with Winter the same way you craved intimacy with his counterpart.

“Please,” You begged. 

With a grunt, the sweats were yanked down and he thrust harshly, seating himself completely in one swift motion.

His moan rumbles through you, setting your nerves alight. “Oh god…”

And then he starts moving. 

One stark difference between James Buchanan Barnes and The Winter Soldier, was that one was gentle and kind, and everything you’d want in the man you’d take home to meet your parents. And the other? The other was the kind of man that would carve his name into your skin with a smile and defile you in unspeakable ways, rough and raw.

Winter snapped his hips at a breakneck pace, pulling out only to plunge back in with a force that made you see stars. Your mouth hung open in a silent scream, clinging to the sheets as he drove you into the mattress. His cock hit all the right places, those quick, constant motions driving you closer and closer to another release. His grunts and puffs of breath only added momentum.

Tears pricked your eyes, your heart hammering and your skin on fire as pleasure coursed through you, building higher and higher.

A cold palm slipped along your belly, snaking its way between your breasts and firmly wrapping around your neck, squeezing those delicate pressure points that made your head spin. He lifted you from the mattress, his pace halting almost completely as your back met his heaving chest. 

Winter’s raw voice met your ears as you whimpered at the loss of friction, teetering on the edge of sanity as your core wept for attention. “Gonna cum if I keep that up, Dollface.” His voice is choppy, puffs of air hitting the side of your neck as he talks. “Feel so fuckin’ good.”

His dick pushes in again, dragging slowly along your walls as he groans in your ear, your own voice joining him in a broken harmony. “‘M gonna need this every time. Need to feel your tight cunt, hear your pretty cries…” His tongue darted out to slide over your cheek, swiping up a tear that had fallen from your damp lashes, “Taste you every. Single. Time.”

Those hips snapped back into their brutal pace, slamming against your ass as he clutched your frail neck in his metal hand, the other coming up to grip your hair and tug your head back as he sucked more love bites along your neck.

You moan, tears of pleasure falling from your lashes as you near the edge. Winter’s grunts and shaky breath vaguely registering that he’s nearly there himself.

He sinks his teeth into the juncture of your neck, the combination of pain and utter pleasure shoving you over the precipice as you open your mouth in a scream. That metal hand snakes up to stifle it as his hips jerk a few more agonizing thrusts before shuddering with his strangled moan.

You’re left limp and breathless, utterly spent and draped over his arm with your head lolling against his strong and heaving shoulder.

Winter slips from you, repositioning you on the bed like an offering on an unholy altar. With his hair plastered against his forehead, those dark strands utterly soaked with sweat, he smiles down at you.

“Again.”

Tags<3

@mrsnikstan / @sunnyhummingbee / @millercontracting / @veysxrge / @almosttoopizza / @tiredsleepyandreading / @lauratang / @buckyssugarchick / @tranquilty / @8crazy-freak8 @thatonewriterchick / @kennysbadkitten / @black-cat-2 / @urbanleftovers / @hellsenthero / @knowingnothingnoel / @appeys-world / @bubblegumbeautyqueen / @rianxx / @ponyosmom35 / @atomicwinter2213 / @ariana-l / @savannahrilee-blog

[historicity-was-already-taken]

This is a personal/opinion post grounded in my knowledge of Modern History. It does not attempt to be anything resembling a history of the SCOTUS or messiness in US Politics, and it does NOT argue/imply that the SCOTUS pre-2020 was a flawless haven of justice untouched by partisan issues and bigotry (lmao)

There's always a lot of talk about the rise of fall of the US Empire blah blah blah. But I'll tell you what moment is burnt into my brain is the moment I thought "that's it. The 'American Experiment' is over. Now it's just a long journey to the end." It was when Ruth Bader Ginsburg died, and with her, my faith in the legitimacy of the Supreme Court of the United States as the supreme arbiter of justice. And that was solidified for me when when the Trump v. United States ruling was released on July 1, 2024. Supreme Court Opinion | ACLU Remarks

Now, that institution is filled with rapists, religious extremists, and extraordinarily corrupt individuals. I have no faith in the institution to deliver anything that resembles a non-partisan application of Constitutional Law. Whatever happens next won't be a fight for the "soul*" of the country. It'll be a fight to preserve whatever freedoms the SCOTUS and the very specifically post-Obama US Fascist Parties determine the left is allowed to maintain.

As always, I hope I'm wrong. But we have an incoming POTUS going full Hitler** and talking seriously about annexing other sovereign nations, and highly placed people acting like this is normal and fine. It's not normal.

I'm not even panicking or upset. I did that when RBG died. Now I'm just trying to figure out how to avoid complying in advance.

*If, indeed, the soul of the country is worth preserving. But that's a different conversation.

**While comparisons to this individual are horrifically overused, by the late 30s Hitler was 100% serious about annexing the Sudetenland, Austria, and Poland, and highly placed individuals were like "sure bro long live the Reich this is normal and fine."

[void-speaks]

🌧"Hm, we don't really have those kind of luxuries nor the necessity for them, so I just dive head in even if its pouring. I do enjoy rain quite a lot. It's refreshing."

🍳"Well, I'm not exactly the best, but I do know how to make the most basic of things. Sigh, I do wish I had the chance to learn how to cook something more cool and interesting, but oh well. Oh, surprisingly enough, I do. I used to hate any and all kind of chores before, but now it's just something you can shut off your mind for and do on autopilot. Mmm, probabaly omelets. No particular reasons, I just think it's neat."

🧼"It's not like we get much of a choice. In this economy, we shower whenever we can. I do enjoy showering, but I haven't gotten many chances to bathe before, so I can't really tell anything. Again, it's a miracle if we find gel in this situation."

❌️"Obviously I would. It does depend on who is telling me what, but just in general, I would. Hmm... Probabaly Crane. He's seen some shit and has a good base of knowledge about the world, more than me and Aiden have."

🏳️‍"Well, it's hard to say right now. I can't really imagine anything that would make me give up, but there's probabaly something. Like, maybe if I was in complete despair? I don't know, hard to say."

📖"Gosh, don't even get me started on books! I really, really love books. I've always loved reading books even as a child. I mostly favored fantasy and detective novels and sometimes romance I suppose. Queer romance specifically because. Well. Guess. I wouldn't say I have a lot of opportunities to read in that sense that new books that I haven't read are a rare thing to find right now."

⛸️"I'm not... too into sports, to be fair. Would parkour count as a sport? Probabaly not right now. Hm... I guess Carnage Hall fights would be considered a sport? In that case, I don't really follow that stuff at all."

😷"I have an average immune system, so I don't get sick too much. Well, 'staying at home' right now isn't exactly an option, however, when I get sick, I tend to not overwhelm myself with chores, but don't stay in bed all day either. Well, medical masks are surprisingly hard to find, and just regular clothing pieces won't do much, so I tend to stay away from people or be very careful around them."

🥼"No, I don't. Hm, what kind of uniform... To be fair, and don't quote me on this, but Renegade uniform looks sick as Hell."

🥂"Huh, I never really thought about it. I guess I just pat myself on the back or don't really acknowledge them at all."

🛴"Parkour. It's probabaly impossible to get around on a bike in this environment, but it would be nice if I could. Traffic rules aren't really a thing right now, so eh."

🕰"Hm... Now that I think about it, we don't do that too much? Or I suppose we just use the sun as our guide most of the time. Or Peacekeeper sirens or church bells if it's in Old Villedor."

🥰"There's many things that can make me... Well, not happy, but bring some kind of positive feelings for sure. As for loved... I don't know how to answer that."

🐇"I don't. I prefer to live in the now and here. Believing in this kind of thing would be an escapism method for me, and I prefer not to do that."

🎺"I'm getting tired of saying it, but there's not much choice we have nowadays. I'm starting to sound like my grandma... I think. But, if I had to chose from all the songs I know, my current choice would be that tape that Aiden showed me recently. I don't know its name, but it goes like... 'Some people cheat, some people sin, but ohhhhh I play to win, tu-tu-tu-tu-tu-tu-u-u-u-u-u,' and so on. Sorry, I'm not the best singer. Mm, no, not really. Never had a chance to learn. Probabaly the violin. I heard it's a difficult instrument, which is one of the things that intrigues me about it."

💽"Yes! I like collecting books, newspapers from the 'old times,' audio tapes and stuff like that. Really to collect information. But especially books. There isn't a particular reason, I just enjoy doing it. Or I suppose the reason would be that I want to know as much as possible about Villedor and its life and how life was for other people in the hot of the apocalypse."

🧋"Tea. By God how much I love tea. Especially black tea with thyme. I can't even explain it, I just do. My second top tea is from a specific brand, but it's also black tea with apple and... and some other berry. I don't know its name in English. Oh, that entirely depends on the season and how I'm feeling. But generally, I lean more towards warm or hot drinks."

🌻 random in-character questions

an ask game where, instead of replying from your perspective, you answer as if it's your original character/muse/self-insert/etc. answering the question ✨

🌧️ "When outside during the rain, do you use a raincoat, an umbrella, or something else? Do you enjoy rain?"

🍳 "Are you a good cook? Do you enjoy cooking? What's your favorite thing to cook?"

🧼 "Do you prefer to take a shower during the morning or evening? Do you like taking baths? What's your favorite scent of shower gel?"

❌ "Would you do something that someone told you not to do? Why? Is there someone you'd actually listen to more than everyone else?"

🏳️ "What will make you give up?"

📖 "What kinds of books do you read? Do you have a lot of time to read?"

⛸️ "What's your favorite kind of sport? Do you follow sports closely or don't care at all?"

😷 "How often do you get sick? Do you stay at home when sick or do you end up going outside to, say, get some groceries? If you go outside, would you wear a mask?"

🥼 "Do you have to wear a uniform somewhere? If yes, how do you feel about it? If no, what kind of uniform would you love to wear?"

🥂 "How do you celebrate you accomplishments?"

🛴 "What's your preferred way of getting somewhere - own car, public transport, a bicycle, or something else? How well do you follow the traffic rules?"

🕰️ "What do you use to check what time it is?"

🥰 "What would make you feel happy and loved?"

🐇 "Do you believe in other dimensions?"

🎺 "What kind of music do you mostly listen to? Do you know how to play an instrument, and if not, which one would you want to learn to play?"

💽 "Do you collect anything? Why?"

🧋 "What's your go-to thing to drink? Do you prefer cold or hot drinks?"

[siriusblackdevotee]

wolfstar (a microfic that should've been a microfic but I'm so lazy so it's not)

Heavily inspired by this + someone rb saying they thought of ootp timeline. Although I posted it thinking of the first war timeline, post Azkaban is funnier so we're here.

Sirius: Since we're together—

Remus: Since we're what?

Sirius: *face falls* Oh, I just thought—I thought we were... since we never actually broke up—

*Remus silently mouthing broke up??*

Sirius: —I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed we were... i mean, I don't actually expect you to still be in love with me.

Remus: *voice cracking*You knew???

Sirius (hurt): Oh Remus, of course I knew and it's okay, really, I understand.

Remus: No, I—... You should be shocked about this. Why aren't you shocked about this??

Sirius: You believed I was the traitor, that I killed Peter for 13 years. With all that time, after everything you thought I did... *shrug* Naturally, you would've stopped loving me.

Remus (pained): Sirius, no, no, of course it was fucking awful but—

Sirius: I know, I predicted as much. I told you it's fine, we broke up. It's all in the past. It's fine if you even... found someone else—

Remus: Stop, just stop. You-You keep saying we broke up.

Sirius: *bitter smile* Well, didn't we? Never said we are, but we may as well have.

Remus: Sirius, to break up you'd have to l—... we'd have to be dating and we-we were never together.

Sirius (frowning): Excuse me?

Remus: Maybe it's a side effect from Azkaban? Somehow you fucking knew I was in love with you, and that knowledge—long exposure to dementors—got your head messed up, made false memories. Fuck, we have to get you checked—

Sirius: What do you—my head is perfectly fine thank you!

Remus: Then explain why you think we were dating???

Sirius: Because we were!?

Remus: Since when???

Sirius: Since seventh year! After winter break!

Remus: How. Explain to me how we started dating.

Sirius: I noticed how you were absolutely gone for me—

Remus (horrified): Wait so you've known since—

Sirius: Since then? Yes. Then I slowly realized I actually felt the same way (Remus stops breathing) so obviously I—

Sirius:

Remus:

Remus: so obviously you?

Sirius (unsure): ...so I—well, I definitely asked you out...

Remus: 'definitely'—?! No you fucking didn't! I don't remember this! You never—!

Sirius: I did! I'm sure I did! I just-I don't remember right now but it happened! Azkaban—

Remus: Don't pull the Azkaban card! You haven't touched a book since then and you still remember magical theory from fifth year!

Sirius: Alright, so I never asked you out but how could you think we weren't dating?!

Remus: Because we never fucking established that???

Sirius: We moved in together! Since when do two friendly blokes just live together??

Remus: We had separate rooms!

Sirius: I thought you wanted space!

Remus: What?! You mean we could've—?! Wait no, we never even acted like a couple! How was I supposed to—?!

Sirius: We always went on dates! We celebrated Valentine's day, boyfriend's day, and new year's together!

Remus: I thought we were just going out! We were always single so obviously we'd celebrate together!

Sirius: I've always said I love you! And you always said you love me back!

Remus (flushing): We meant it differently! ...Well, I was supposed to mean it differently, you were supposed to love me like a friend!

Sirius: How I loved you was never like a friend! Maybe in the beginning but not now or ever!

Remus (flustered): oh my god, you—dont say that—!

Sirius: What?! It's true!

Remus: *sighing* ...We-We never kissed.

Sirius: I vividly remember trying to kiss you after graduation but you kept dodging my attempts.

Remus (slack jawed): What?!

Sirius: Then I tried seducing you—walking around shirtless, inviting you into the showers, so you'd—oh I don't know, attack me?

Remus: That's what that was??!

Sirius: But you shot me down every time. I knew you were still besotted with me so I guessed—I thought you just didn't like that stuff.

Remus: I like that stuff!

Sirius: Last I checked—

Remus: Sirius, please, if you don't let me kiss you right now, I will literally die on this spot.

Sirius (smirking): let you? I'm the last thing to stop y—

Sirius did not get the last word out for obvious reasons.

[timeanemoia]

@/addictedantler is NOT safe to be around minors

Hi!im mostly a lurker but like. enoughs enough. i understand this may not be well recieved but i am so afraid this person will end up genuinely harming a minor if everything is allowed to be covered up. i couldn't live with myself if i didn't say anything. unfortunately a lot was lost when the initial sideblog was deleted, things that would make my points more apparent. but i went digging to the best of my ability and came out of it genuinely crying

a while ago to my knowledge some minor on twitter called out user and scar artist @/addictedantler for a variety of things on his side nsft blog. in response they got sent some nasty things which is besides the point but bears mentioning. now personally i dont think any minor should be the one to be doing that, its not healthy especially when they then get harassed by grown adults. and you might think, oh its just erotica, not so bad whats the deal? and i agree! theres really no issue with that kind of art even rpf, it doesnt matter.

the issue here is the other content matter of the blog and how @/addictedantler is responding. he is lying saying its some other artist that he is safe, it wasnt his blog guys! now, not only is it a blatant lie for reasons i will display later but i find it especially disturbing given what he posted on his now deleted blog and what he continues to post on the remade blog. a certain liking for minors. and in labeling himself safe, covering this up and pushing it away he protects his reputation. he makes himself seem trustworthy. gives him easy access to the many, many minors in this fandom. it worries me a great deal.

i will add screenshots below the cutoff. while there's nothing of anything in the way of uncensored nsft art (just heavily suggestive cropped) there are still text posts and mentions of upsetting subject matter so if you are sensitive to: SA, sxualization of minors, and mentions of inc3st - please steer clear.

im not going to hold your hand though this thread i trust you understand but here are some key points. note the absolutely identical styles, down to how the eye is highlighted. antler can claim all he wants this is a different artist but anyone with two eyes can see otherwise. also! two instances of the exact same pictures of scar being posted on one blog then drawn on the other, sure you could argue coincidence but paired with the style its hardly a possibility. (specifically 2014 scar and mcc). also note the references of scar and tubbo for an underage grooming inc3st au that was talked about a lot on the deleted blog iirc. thats all just look at these i guess. i didnt feel the need to go through and screenshot every disgusting thing there because its unnecessary and i didnt want to have to look at it! you can go to the blog yourself if you feel the need. weird censoring/cropping is because tumblr sucks!

thanks for your time and keep an eye on this person. dont trust him.

[estranhossonhos]

It's obviously not a requirement I look for, whenever I meet someone (friends, bf/gf, doesn't matter - I mean people I want to keep around and nourish a relationship with); but I would love to have a significant other with this kind of mindset. That cooks with joy, plans every mealtime with ease, and feeds on other people's reactions to their food. In fact, whenever I get invited to eat at someone's house, and they complain that the food didn't turn up how they envisioned, or state that «it's nothing fancy» - oh, you have no idea how moments like this warm my body, heart and soul. And I wish I was writing all of this out of nostalgia, with that magical, slow-motion like remembrance about everyone gathered around a table, enjoying themselves, talking, laughing, ... but for me, it goes beyond that.

tw: mental health + unhealthy eating patterns

I try not to feel ashamed by confessing this, but I can't help but notice how people look at me weird. It's such an automated/basic thing everyone does, and I can't do it? «What do you mean? You need food to live, yet you can't cook nor do the groceries? ». Not quite, but I do need a whole day to do it, and a few days in advance to get myself ready for this mundane task. You see, my brain shuts off whenever I look at what's inside my fridge or pantry - if there's even anything in there to begin. I simply cannot put combine ingredients like you do (and it's not due to lack of knowledge). And whenever I can, it will most likely become my go-to meal for the next few weeks. It's a logistical nightmare to even consider going out to the supermarket. Yes, I could order online - but that's another task on itself. 80% of the times this gets me so overstimulated that, I've ended up (discreetly, I hope) crying in public, on a few occasions.

Don't worry, it's not an everyday occurrence. And for better or for worse, I am too self-conscious and pragmatic for this bad habit to take over. But whenever my neurodivergent brain is going through the slumps (you know: those occasional rough patches that resurface every once in a while, sprinkled with anxiety and depression), I prefer to stay in bed, disassociate and lose track of time, with an empty stomach. Even though I merely switched that moment with another filled with more guilt and shame towards myself. And yes, that also includes going out to eat. That's why I (while trying to play it cool) usually choose what somebody else ordered, or what the waiter recommended. This way nobody suspects anything is wrong with me, right?

Now, if this all seems childish and overly dramatic, congratulations: you are a typical functioning human-being. Believe me when I say this: I feel the same way you do, whenever I hear myself complaining about this «first world problem». But unfortunately, this drains the little energy we have to navigate our daily lives as neurodivergent individuals in a neurotypical world. Especially for those with a very tight monthly budget, who live alone or share a place with people they are not close with. Just like you, I used to find unnecessary and environmentally unfriendly all of those pre-packed, peeled and/or frozen meals, veggies and fruits. Nowadays I am thankful whenever I find them, since they quite literally have saved my life multiple times. Chemicals? Not healthy? Never heard of them. I need fuel to get out of bed and to not rot away. And if that fuel is a frozen lasagne with a weird ingredient list, so be it. I promise I'll compensate in a near future, when I am mentally and physically out of the slump, and I feel capable of asking for help (if needed) or to mask myself again as a typical functioning human-being 💪 So, next time you catch yourself complaining about those «unhealthy and ready to eat meals» or any other «unnacessary invention» that promises to make someone's life easier: take a deep breath, question everything but always try to do it out of pure curiosity. This way you're always reach the correct answer, be apart of less judgemental world, with more acessibility, compassion and solidarity towards one another.

Cooking for you is my love language.

[burn1nghill]

THE MAN BEHIND THE MASK | HWANG IN-HO

summary: tells the story of In-ho discovering his wife’s sickness and confronting her of the inevitable.

The consistent beeping of the monitors made it difficult to focus on one particular thing in the room. But she could finally manage to keep her eyes open for more than a few seconds when she saw him sitting beside her in a position that would clearly cause him to suffer with back pains in the morning.

Slowly tapping her index finger against the creaky bed, she watched his eyes immediately fixate on the sudden movement like an excited kitten. She could only stare as he turned to look at her, his eyes glossy, fragile and tired. Despite her cracked and dry lips, she tried to give him a smile to reassure his troubled mind but all he could do was just grab her hand and move closer towards her with an aching moan.

“water” she whispered to his ear as he moved to crouch beside her. Before he could sit, he lifted himself up again and rushed to fill her plastic cup. Once he was fully away from her, she could finally stare at her husband.

They used to joke of his body getting older and easily tired but she never fully acknowledged this to be true until now. His shoulders were hunched like he was protecting himself from any punch or kick. Those hardworking hands that he sacrificed everyday to put food on the table were shaky and his veins had never been more evident than now. Even pouring the water from the tank seemed to be a struggle to him.

All she could do was look away in shame - shame that she had caused him to be like this.

Once he came back to her side, he placed his hand behind her head like she was a newborn baby and lifted the cup to her lips. His mouth opened and his tongue grazed his teeth in concentration, making sure he didn’t get any down her gown.

She felt like she could cry tears of joy, never had she been so eager to drink water - as she felt the water sooth the dryness of her throat, she could feel the rush of life enter her all over again. Looking up at him as she drank, she hoped her husband could see that she was feeling better and she would get better for him and their unborn child.

With a satisfied sigh, she was finally able to drop her head back onto the bed and watch as her husband placed the cup on her bedside table. At first he seemed unsure of where to sit until he finally decided to sit on the bed next to her, allowing her to grab his hand and caress the harsh skin around his knuckles.

“how are you?” he spoke, finally. She missed his voice, the voice that always sounded so deep, wise and knowledgeable.

“I am okay, it was unnecessary to bring me here” she whispered the final part as she could see his hand tense after each word. In-ho, whenever he was upset, would usually keep quiet until his anger subsided but today it seemed he was different.

It made her worry for the unexpected

“you are not 'just okay' and pretending like you are doesn’t mean everything will go back to normal. You are putting yourself at danger and our baby too” he sighed as he watched her let go of him and turn away.

She placed a firm hand on her belly in hopes her baby would kick to disagree with their father’s cold words. She would be a good mother, what she had been doing all along is trying to protect her baby. He would never understand.

“Do you know what the doctor told me?” he finally asked her, she knew what they told him but she refused to engage with his game.

Keeping a reassuring hand around her baby, she looked out of the window. Watching as doctors and patients walked past her. They had their own lives, struggles and pains. Maybe one of those patients had found out they had cancer and had less than two months to live? Or maybe, just like her, one of them found out if they didn’t have a liver transplant they would not make it?

“That this is your third time here.” he finally answered, the words came out bitter. She knew once he found out he would be hurt that she had kept this from him. The space between them was uncomfortable and unfamiliar, she had never been so distant from the one person she had loved so dearly. It made her feel scared, like a little child. What would she ever do if he wasn’t around?

It was true that she had lied to him, some days when he would call her during his breaks and she was in the hospital waiting room she would have to lie and say she was out buying a few goods for the baby. But once she ended the call she could feel the fear rush her all over again. Being alone in an intimidating environment with people you didn’t know but must trust made her long for her husband more than ever.

But to keep him well, she had to lie.

Some nights when she was so weak she couldn’t move or even speak, she had to blame it on the baby - but she knew it was not true. It took a lot of her to stare at him and lie to his face. When he would try and comfort her, she would push him away - she couldn’t take it. But she knew one day he would find out, he was clever.

Much, much clever than people assume.

“Even guessing the amount of times you lied to me enrages me” he shook his head as his voice continued to grow. Finally turning back, she could see the redness of his eyes, he was fighting his own anger. All she could do was smile.

“I am holding hope, honey” she finally spoke as her tears blurred her eyesight. Before he could protest, she placed his hand on her stomach — hoping he could feel the life growing in her. “I am holding hope to deliver my child and if I don’t make it then so be it”

The twitch of his eyes and the clench of his jaw made it clear that he didn’t like her answer nor would he accept it.

“I can’t afford a transplant, we can’t afford it” she whispered to him, her teeth clenching in frustration. It felt dystopian that her life was being juggled with a hefty bag of cash. That was the ideology humanity, silently, grew on - money was important than the life of a human being. Even just the smell of each note (of cash) was more important than the quality of a humans blood.

These were thoughts she never liked to dwell on as it made her feel not-human — she felt like an alien. But even with aliens, shouldn’t anything alive, with a pulse, have more value than money?

We all know the answer, but we don’t dare to say it.

“this doesn’t mean you have to accept defeat” he pulled her closer with her hands and watched her, hoping he could see some resilience within her but there was nothing. All she could do was smile at him, he felt naive and stupid. “you can’t give up on yourself, me and our child”

“I’m not in pain, it’s okay” she placed a hand on his cheek and caressed his rough skin the same way she used to do before they fell asleep. In-ho could only watch as she laid herself back down again and wrapped the blanket around herself more tightly. Even the act of doing this tired her out, he could see it through the shaking of her hands. Rubbing his hand against his chin, he tried to figure out what he could do - but he did not know how he could ever bring in that much money in such a short amount of time.

It angered him even more that his wife, his innocent wife had been cursed with such a thing. He remembered all the days he would watch her fold up all the items she had bought for their baby even when she had only found about her pregnancy 2 weeks earlier. Sometimes when he would be brushing his teeth in their bathroom, she would quietly smell the fabric of the baby clothes that she bought earlier in the day and he could only watch her as his chest warmed at the sight .

One night, she had terrible fatigue. One that he, stupidly, blamed the baby for. But as they were wrapped in each other’s arms in the living room and her teeth jittered, she asked him what he would do if she was gone one day.

“what do you mean?” he asked

“if you woke up one morning and I wasn’t here, what would you do?” she asked once again and watched as he shifted uncomfortably before pressing her closer against him as if imagining it was worse enough.

“I would lose my mind” he answered after much thinking which caused her to give him a soft smile before she kissed the hand that rested on her cheek.

the two sat in silence for a few seconds until he briefly turned his head and stared at the floor across from them while feeling her silky hair rub against his forehead - “why, do you plan on leaving me?”

“never” she grinned with a shake in her voice before lovingly rubbing his clothed chest in hopes it would distract him from the heaviness of the question.

In-ho never knew until now that he truly had to imagine a scenario that one day he would wake up without his wife. It made him feel like he was suffocating.

—

“the baby won’t make it honey, you know that” he spoke so harshly that it made her flinch. All she could do was stare at the wall across from her, unsure of what to do or say.

“and I know that” he concluded his sentence as he hoped he could put some fear into her in hopes it would make her more determined to survive. But it seems she lost the will to fight a long time ago. Shutting her eyes, she dropped her head and allowed her tears to fall, quietly.

In-ho slowly lifted the blanket that she had over her and laid next to his wife. To make enough space, he placed his arm under her head and allowed her to use it as a pillow as he patted her head. Aggressively, she wiped away her tears and stared at him.

“maybe we could ask them to take the baby out of me early” she spoke so confidently that it broke her husbands heart at her determination to give birth to her baby rather than to live. In-ho could only blink and shake his head at her causing her to drop her head against his arm in defeat again.

“the only way is the transplant” he concluded. As she wrapped herself closer against him, he could feel her stomach against his chest and he could feel and sense the life growing in there. It gave him a deeper wave of pain but also an even stronger sense of determination.

He would find that money, no matter what.

[elvenferretots]

any progress with kaladin? the gofundme hasnt been updated in a while :(

Honestly, we've all been running nonstop and have been so tired it's been overlooked to update the gofundme. We're having the tracking team out Saturday, but meanwhile, here's the most recent update from Emily:

It's been 20 days of Kaladin missing.

We are so painfully aware that there is a chance that Kaladin is no longer alive or out in those woods. There are many factors that come into play. But even with that knowledge, we will use the information we have to make the decision to keep searching. We believe he still has a very high chance of survival. And we will continue to hope and search.

What we know:

• We have found zero evidence of Kaladin not making it out of the fire. He was being train to jump out windows in the case of a medical/epilepsy alert & response for Liam, and 100% was capable of escaping.

• On three separate occasions, tracking dogs (who had scented Kaladin items) have indicated that there is life. They are trained to not chase, and have a separate indication for a deseaced dog.

• A heat seeking drone picked Kal's heat signature up the first night, but lost him in the dense pines.

• We have heard distinct whines and have seen many tracks matching Kaladin's paw size, including drag marks matching his previously injured back leg.

• We have had reports from neighbors of a dog circling their houses, though the dog would run away when they opened doors.

• We have reports from neighbors of a dog barking in the area we suspect Kaladin is hiding, which is also an area they have never heard dogs barking before. We have had a few reports of people on the road who saw a black dog though it was not confirmed if the dog had a tail or not.

• On many of the hikes that Liam and other people have done with him, they have reported sounds of being followed. Including hearing something run into a deer stand, and sounds of an animal tripping in the woods. (We have been researching what wild animals may be this clumsy.) Especially with people who have spent years in the woods, it's easier to distinguish if they are simply being followed or stalked as prey. Liam has felt both in the last couple weeks, but the times with the clumsy animal and whines has never felt malicious.

• Upon talking to multiple vets, lost dogs will find means of food and warmth before they let starvation or hypothermia take them. They are very sneaky and very smart. There is a solid chance his ears are frostbitten, and may look different than the photo.

• There is currently one wolf, if not two, in the area. There is also a vast area of abandoned properties/structures and nooks for Kaladin to hide in.

• We know there is always a chance he was picked up by someone, and that we are chasing shadows. We will continue to get the word put.

• We have not caught him in camera, which us infuriating. We understand is also does not help our case in our beliefs that he is still alive. If / when he is caught on camera, we can then place a live trap in the area.

• Extra Information: Kal was hit by a car at 6 months old and because *very* car smart after this. We believe this could be part he is avoiding roads. His breed and genetics were selected due to his ability to "work through pressure" and we believe we are seeing that come through now. He grew up with these woods as his playground, and 100% has the experience and ability of catching and killing small prey. We are not dealing with just a lost dog, but a very smart and capable breed who escaped a very traumatic house fire. Tracks have indicated that there was a very high chance Kaladin ran into Tova that first night. Tova was supposed to be his safe big sister, but due to the level of her burn injuries, she would not have looked, smelled or acted safe. This could have set Kaladin off from approaching anything else that was previously known as safe.

What we have done:

• Used tracking dogs to narrow down the area, and to alert of of life or death.

• Used drones and heat seeking drones.

• Placed trail cameras, feeding stations, and our clothing in strategic spots.

• Camped out and continue to walk a strategic path home to leave a scent trail.

• Used a thermal scope and night vision binoculars.

• Called vets. Talked to neighbors multiple times. Spread fliers in a five mile radius of our property and informed locals. Posted on many groups of social media.

• Grilled high value and stinky food at a campsite and at home to try and lure him in.

• Flew his breeder in to try and jog some "core memories" of safety to lure him out.

• Used a search party of many amazing people to find clues in areas we may not have covered.

• Are watching the skies for crows and hawks.

• Have brought on leash female dogs in heat on our hikes, to try and lure him out. (If anyone who has a female in heat, and is will to walk with us, please let us know!)

What we will continue to do:

• HOPE

• Continue leaving scent trails in the area we believe he is in. And keep cameras up.

• Hire another heat seeking drone.

• Bring out tracking dogs again to confirm if he is in the area and/or life.

• Continue to talk to neighbors.

• Continue to drive slow loops and use our night vision equipment.

• Use new knowledge gained to change our strategy as needed.

We cannot thank everyone enough for standing in this with us, and for putting in the hard work of searching with us. It means the world knowing we are not alone in this.

[blurredfloweryblood]

I'm not the best person to do analysis on Hannibal, mainly because it's complex and it has so many layers and fragments and I'm so afraid of looking like a dumbass.

But every time I rewatch the first season (I'm sorry it's my favorite season, I feel like a failure), I really thought that there was a hanging theme of self-preservation among all the other symbols and themes (again, not a big "aha!" moment just verbal vomit). Abigail capture bonding with Hannibal, as well as tucking her cards near her because she is in a complicated situation. She wants to live, she really does. Her father's shadow is behind her, a bigger monster is lurking, and the seven girls yell in her dreams. She just wants to be fucking free, live a fucking life. Bloodshed, gutting, deers or whatever.

Alana doesn't want to get close to Will. Her relationship with him has to remain distant and warm enough to be somewhat solid, but careful to not let it go astray. She wants to be his pillar, and remain focused.

Hannibal is fucking thrilled. He has met the perfect being in potential, the shaking of diving into violence, the lie of self-righteousness, the thrill of blood and the mind that connects, more than other minds can. The vision that can not only observe, but know. The only person that can dig his fingers into Hannibal's skin, and appreciate what it keeps underneath. Yet, it's not that he's afraid, but un-peeling himself requires time, and he can't wait, he's on his toes and he wants to reach but things are moving fast and leading him astray, waves pulling him under and up and left and right. He is deciphering and whispering and moving strings while being beckoned. He keeps himself well hidden, but Will can't stop moving in mysterious ways.

Will is pulled and pushed and pushing and pulling back, he holds both ends of the rope, fighting with himself and the unknown in his mind. Hiding from his nightmares, people and his own eyes, using the glasses to reflect back what could be seen by him back to the exterior. He doesn't want to see, he does and he doesn't, and the cycle is burning his head. Tiptoeing at the edge of a cliff, he's starting to play with the swan dive he could take. He's been whispered too, but he was already burning before. Maybe he was born like that, and little crooked, with a spider-ish heart that pumps darkness from his core. Not like a disease, but like the soon-to-be-shed body.

They are all showing their sharp edges, just trying to lightly warn the other to not get too close, or they will be cut. Just a tiny, itchy burn of the small path of blood. But in their distance and their toying and testing and stepping and pushing away, they leave parts uncovered, slipping. They allow a little of softening, a little moment of closeness between the lone moments when they are surrounded by themselves. And in those seconds of quiet and fleeting warmth, they are already retracting their claws.

So they break. Chipping away their fragments, they are conjoined by blood and the search of something to grab on when you're drowning. Turning and twisting and hovering. They reach others, or submerge themselves in the bitter ends of having let others have a little piece of their mind.

They come undone, in ribbons of sanity. But that shall be later. For now it's just the beginning. The peek to the abyss. It's the match to the grass. Not yet a forest fire. But we all know what shall happen. It's not the knowledge of what will happen. Is the how. How will they break? How will they loose their ends? Like raggedy clothes. They stand before is, complete and made.

But at the end, unrecognizable and yet distinct. Because you are what you are, even if you shed yourself. There are things we cling to, even when we are eating ourselves away.

[angelinthefire]

Re: @fieldofheathers-stuff

I think approaching Arcane as a tragedy is interesting because I actually never got a tragedy vibe from it. Probably because I believe it ends on a more hopeful note. Cait and Vi together, and particularly the airship sailing into the distance. Even without the implication that Jinx is alive and on board, it's just a hopeful image imo. (I'm also coming into this with the assumption that no body=not dead. For Jinx, that's obvious, and i think you're supposed to conclude that she's alive, or at least it's very open ended. But I also think that it would be easy to bring back Warwick, Jayce, and Viktor too.)

If we're talking about tragedy, I think it's useful to have a more specific definition. There's Greek tragedies - trying to escape fate and failing. And Shakespearian tragedies - when the hero's greatest strength becomes the source of their downfall. (And there’s probably others and more detail you can get into, but I'm just talking about what I remember from high school, lol)

And there are definitely story arcs that are mostly tragic, in both senses. Like Jinx trying to escape the fate of killing the people she cares about. And Viktor’s unswerving determination to make something of himself being both the cause of his rise and his fall.

But then there's a reversal at the end of their stories. Jinx uses her destructiveness to save Vi, her curse becomes her strength. Viktor's determination is met by Jayce's determination to save him, and the inescapability of their friendship. For both of them, the mechanic of the other kind of tragedy takes over. And both of them find a kind of redemption, rather than the utter ruin that's typical of tragedies.

(This is all just occurring to me now btw)

Re: @klorophile and the idea that season 2 should have gone differently.

I disagree with that. I think the two seasons really need to be taken as a unit. The fact that season 2 involved things becoming their opposite doesn't change that they're a single story - again in Shakespeare things becoming their opposite is part of the tragedy. I also don't think the end of season 1 really functions as an ending on its own either, to me it's more of a turning point.

I also think it's a mistake to say that the message is that "you pay the consequences for your actions." That’s punishment, not consequences. Consequences can be unforseen, they can be chaotic, they can be entirely disproportionate. I think that's established very early on.

I also want to point out that in my original post, I'm talking about plot, not themes. Like the way the story is structured. It's more about characters dealing with stuff than trying to accomplish stuff.

If "consequnces" are a theme, I don't think the show is saying that consequences are payment for wrongs. It's just that everything is connected. Everything is part of a chain of actions and reactions, that you cannot control. At most, the show is saying that it's vain to think that you can plan and forsee all the consequences of your actions.

And season 2 was absolutely necessary for that, because season 2 is when things really got chaotic and out of control.

It's not about characters having to pay consequences. It's about characters having the "oh shit, this isn't what I thought it would be" realization. Every character goes through that. Where they get what they thought they wanted, but it comes along with something unexpected and unwanted.

For Caitlyn, she's always had a very strong sense of justice, and in season 1 she's always fighting against those with more power than her. And then in season 2 she is in a position of power, and she immediately does bad things. Her sense of justice doesn't matter. No one in power is innocent. That's what I get from her arc, and whether or not she suffers as a result of her actions is irrelevant. (even though she does lose an eye. that's pretty serious). She failed and she has to live with the knowledge that she failed. The consequence of her failure is that she brought war to her city.

With Jinx, it's very heavily implied that she did not die, that she escaped the explosion through the air ducts and left Piltover, that she broke the cycle and walked away. Which is what she wanted, she wanted to be free from the cycle of killing and death.

But even if you do take her ending in season 2 as a true death. She's not paying a price for her mistakes, not at all. There's a schnee video that gives a really good take on this, even though I disagree with him and belive that Jinx is alive. All Jinx ever wanted was to help the people she cares about. But time after time, she's cursed, she hurts them instead. Even when she starts to turn things around, Isha dies anyways. So Jinx sacrificing herself for Vi is a way for her to finally save her sister. Blowing up their father figure with the monkey bomb saves the day instead of destroying everything. (But again, she's not really dead).

And to reiterate: the thing that changes about consequences for season 2 is that they become chaotic and unpredictable. This is described in the "pass me a tome" scene. There's a series of clear actions and reactions, but at a certain point, if a system is agitated too much, it starts producing unintended outcomes. That's what the wild rune is, that's what Isha falling into Jinx's life is, that's what Warwick is. Order and chaos is another big theme in the show, and season 1 covered the order side of things, it involved science mastering magic. Season 2 is the chaotic outburst that follows.

Regarding Viktor and Jayce, Viktor was the one who had to be stopped most of all, because Viktor was the one trying to remove disorder from the world. Jayce believed hextech was a curse because it created the apocalypse world that he experienced, but for that to come about it required Viktor as a catalyst, so Viktor being taken out was more important than eliminating hextech. The role that Ekko plays is very simply communicated in the line, "that device can't be". It's the contradiction that still exists despite all of Viktor's efforts that breaks through his armour.

For Vi and Jinx, yes they can mend their relationship and relate to each other as equals, but like I said in my original post, that's not really the point of their story. They can be sisters again, they can still love eachother despite everything each of them has done. But they're still stuck in a cycle. What Jinx needs most of all is not a good relationship with Vi, what she needs is a fresh start. She doesn't need to rewrite her story, she needs to build something new. And saving Vi, fixing their relationship, means that Jinx can start fresh without that baggage weighing her down.

And this comes back to my reply to fieldofheathers-stuff. In that I think Arcane is structured like a tragedy, but it's also not. I don't think it has a totally sad ending. Things are melancholy for Mel and Ekko. But Jinx is free to start something new. Vi and Cait get to be in love. Even Jayce and Viktor, their story ended with love and camaraderie.

Every work of fiction involves the creators pushing the characters in a certain direction because they want it to end a certain way. The real question is how natural it feels. I think Arcane does feel natural, because the characters do not wind up with the endings they "deserve", they end in a place that feels organic considering their journeys and their conditions.

I've been thinking about how I would most concisely sum up the plot of Acane. Because I think a lot of the complaints you see come from some people result from expecting it to be a certain kind of story that it's not.

And I think the most concise way to put it is that Arcane is about consequences. The first episode starts with an explosion, that the characters spend the rest of the arc dealing with the repercussions of. And then the first arc ends with two massive events - Powder killing her family and the invention of hextech - that they spend the entire rest of the show dealing with.

I think most of the stories we get from Western media are about achieving or accomplishing something, or the failure to achieve something. And you can frame Arcane in those terms. But I think to best understand the story, you have to step out of that typical framework. Because the thing with an achievement-based story is that there is a particular end goal in mind, and I don't think Arcand has that.

Like take Vi and Jinx, for example. A typical way to frame their story would be that it's about two sisters trying to rebuild their relationship. That presupposes a certain ending: They either succeed or fail at their relationship, and that's what the focus is on.

But it's not about that. It's about - how do you deal with an event that fundamentally changes you?

In season 1, Vi's answer was to recapture what things were like before. In season 2, they try to redo the past (saving Vander) and get a different outcome, but that's impossible. The answer comes with Ekko - to build something new.

And this is all over the show - action and reaction, how the arcane wakes up, killing is a cycle.