#sometimes you really like something but it just isn't meant to be
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Relish your scream
vampire!Bucky Barnes x female reader
summary: Better the devil you know, but what if going to the Scaretale with someone you're already acquainted with doesn't mean you're completely safe? What if the club isn't your doom, but merely enhances the darkness that was already setting its trap for you?
warnings: vampire!Bucky; dark!Bucky; heavy dub-con; mind compulsion; biting; blood sucking; blood play; forced public nudity (partial); oral (f receiving); sex; captivity; objectification as a kink; conditioning;
word count: 5.4k
Author's Note: I was a little disappointed you voted vampire for Bucky, because there are so many amazing stories with vampire Bucky and I feared I won't be able to create anything fresh. But I wrote it in a specific vibe, amping up the vampire bite into very debauched kind of blood play. Perhaps that can count as something new 😜 This story is the fifth one in the Scaretale universe.
The cab driver was insistent on stopping half a street away from the entrance to the club. He was one of those superstitious people who feared magic tricking him, or a monster luring him to his doom, if he found himself within Scaretale’s range.
You wanted to claim it’s silly, but the rumor was that the club was created and belonged to a dark fae. Who knows what their magic could do. Maybe the cabbie was right to keep his distance.
Unfortunately, for you it meant that you had to walk down the cracked pavement in your high heels to reach the club.
It dawned on you much earlier, soon after you agreed to the terms, that meeting him in a club catered to monsters wouldn’t really provide you any safety. It would be his domain while you felt on the edge for the whole evening. Or night. However long he decided it had to last.
But he had that smooth, dark charm about him, making it appear as a reasonable public space to collect the debt.
As you walked towards the impressive building, which glowed from within like a cursed castle, you tried to convince yourself that the place of your meeting didn’t matter anyway. You wouldn’t have any sort of upper hand no matter the place you sat in.
Because there was something about James Barnes that put you to attention at any given moment. As if your body was attuned to his presence. Like a deer may be aware of a wolf prowling nearby.
James was a coworker at the high levels of the international company you both worked for. And sort of a work rival, too.
He was courteous, always well mannered and classy. Dressed like that, too. He was driven at work, reaching each set goal with unwavering determination and skills. Honestly, you had reasons to admire him and admit he was fucking good at his job. Sometimes you inwardly joked that you want to be like James Barnes when you grow up.
There wasn’t really any competition between you two, none of you were threatened with the prospect of losing anything if the other’s department scored a few more points in the quarter.
It was the smidge of inadequacy that made you often eye Barnes as a threat. Coming out of your own insecurities, you suspected.
You were damn good at your job and at leading people. It’s just that you were… messy.
Not a complete disaster, but a little chaotic and sometimes lost, sometimes too soft, especially considering the sharks that swam in the ocean of legal (and illegal) deals you worked with.
Compared to Barnes, you were chaotic and bouncy.
But not everyone could stride through the room like a lethal blade slicing through fabric.
Barnes could.
Everything about him screamed danger, even when he offered a charming smile, or bought doughnuts for the whole floor. Though you watched people let down their guards around him, treating him like a harmless, cute man.
Was it only you that experienced that pulse of wariness whenever he walked into a room?
Perhaps, it was that aura of a vampire…
You’re still not sure what prompted you to bet him. Confrontations weren’t your preferred model of operating. Especially towards men you were both fascinated and scared of. Maybe you just wanted to prove to yourself that your bubbly style was as effective as Barnes’ cutthroat smoothness.
You veiled it as a team challenge (which both of your teams actually took as a fun twist to their usual hard work, including some subtle ribbing). If you won, you’d get to take over Barnes’ fancy office for a whole week.
It’s not like it would bother him much, since he worked evening to sunrise hours, while you were a day worker.
But you were the messy one and it made you giggle as you thought of leaving your usual chaos in his pristine space.
When you proposed that, Barnes held your gaze with those incredibly steel-blue eyes. Not a twitch of annoyance on his stupidly handsome face (that half of the skyscraper was pinning after). No, he was seizing you up and calculating his potential gain. Which made your pulse skip.
You still remembered how his eyes shifted to your pulse point and your thighs clenched as you thought of his teeth sinking into your neck.
He agreed to the bet, demanding your company, if he won.
Which he had.
There was a flood of tangled thoughts and doubts when you realized you agreed to be his for one night. Did he mean his night as his work day, making you do any assistant, slaving work just for the kicks? Or did he mean it as owning you for a night, as in…
His chuckle was like a tap on your cheek, stirring you from your trance when you barged into his office, needing him to explicitly state what exactly he expected of you. Then relief filled you when he explained that he wanted you as his company for a meeting. Said he’s old fashioned like that.
James didn’t mention the dress code, just told you where and what time to come. You could be a brat about it and appear in jeans and a hoodie, but you considered yourself to be honorable and a good sport. You lost a bet, but you wouldn’t be a sore loser, or petty. There was also a part of you that wanted to impress Barnes, to show yourself as someone who could pull off a fancy look.
In your sparkling red heels and black, silk dress, you walked up the stairs of the Scaretale with your chin raised high.
The club’s dark interior was a surprise. From the outside it appeared to be glowing, full of light and mischief, but, as you stepped in, velvet darkness wrapped around you like a shawl.
There were points of light, but they were dimmed. A whisper of mystery and horror slithered around, quickly getting lost in the growing warmth of spicy seduction.
It was a place known for encouraging lust and romance, but you didn’t expect the sensual brush of it to tease your skin.
Perhaps it was why your breath hitched when your eyes met James’ across the room.
His icy eyes always held a particular intensity, but as he watched you now it sent a ripple of something hot and exciting through your body.
As you neared him, your heart clenched in fear, before restarting with a flutter. James was your coworker, but in this setting you lost any sense of safety around him. He was someone different here. More himself, than the persona he played in public. More the ancient beast.
And the core of him you met that evening was scaring you.
He greeted you softly, saying your name in a way that sounded intimate and possessive. His hand rested on the small of your back as he led you toward a nook in the wall that was separated from the rest of the floor by an iron-wrought railing and heavy, black curtains draped to the sides.
There was a rectangular table in the middle of the small room he led you to, with velvet benches surrounding it instead of chairs. Chandeliers dripping black crystals hung above, casting a soft light that didn’t fully disperse the shadows.
“Please, sit beside me.” James pointed to one side of the table. He kept standing until you sat down, then slid right next to you.
“Would you like something to drink?” He asked, sliding closer when you tried to put a few inches of space between you.
“White wine, please.” You nervously twisted your fingers in your lap.
A few seconds later a waitress appeared by the railing, though you didn’t see James summon anyone. Well, they sure had some top, attentive staff in here. You were surprised when Barnes ordered a specific brand of wine, stressing to bring it sweet.
“Why sweet?” You liked most of the whites, including some of the dry, so it didn’t really matter to you.
When James’ gaze flicked to you, it appeared it mattered greatly to him.
“Because you’re sweet.” He stated.
A sudden thought of him referring to your blood’s flavor made you both hot and extremely cold with terror, but his next words made that reaction appear silly.
“Wearing all those pastels and headbands with crystals and pearls. And everytime we happen to be in the same meeting, you’re always drinking pink grapefruit soda. You’re a sweetling.”
His eyes slowly dragged down your form. You couldn’t help the quickening of your heart rate as you felt his gaze move along your body. Again, you were certain his focus lingered on where your veins pulsed beneath your skin.
“I admit I’m quite surprised to see you in black,” when he spoke, it was lighter, more teasing. There was even a hint of that charming smile that disarms people.
“Thought it’s best to match you, since I’m your company for this important meeting,” you shrugged.
He still didn’t express what your expected role was. If it was a business meeting, was he going to lean on you for advice? Or were you an arm candy, only there to provide a nice accent and be a trinket of power? Many conservative men still conducted their business meetings, or public appearances with that mindset. Maybe vampires did too.
“I appreciate it.” James smiled at you. There was a satisfied gleam in his eyes, but darker and hungrier than simple appreciation of your thoughtfulness.
A voice in your head whispered that perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to cater to a monster's whims, even to those of a polished, cultured one. Perhaps it was even worse than if you goaded a barely leashed werewolf.
Because James was incredibly smart and cunning, and you were beginning to suspect that he had the ability to manipulate your reactions without you even realizing you were playing into his game.
When the waitress appeared with your glass of wine, James took it from her and handed it to you. Your fingers brushed against his cold ones, the contact sending a jolt down your spine. His skin was cold, yet you felt a sense of warmth unfurl in your belly.
As if his mere touch heated up your blood. Which had to be a very dangerous thing, considering he was a blood sucking vampire.
“Mhmm, you smell sweet, too.” He hummed, tilting his head so that his nose almost brushed a spot behind your ear.
“James!” You gasped, fingers tightening on the thin stem of your wine glass.
A surge of trepidation took over as your instincts reminded you of being in proximity of the most dangerous predator. It wasn’t a good omen when a vampire commented on your tempting smell. Because it meant at some point he might want to verify if your taste matched.
Yet the cold thought of it sucked your nipples into straining points.
You took a sip of your wine. Then another one, in hope of relaxing your body enough to hide certain reactions.
“Call me Bucky, please.” His voice sounded like a seductive whisper. It reminded you of a hot tickle against your ear, or neck, which you sometimes experienced when writhing on your bed amidst a wet dream.
If your imagination was wilder, you’d wonder if this vampire had something to do with the sex dreams which occasionally haunted you on those rare stormy nights.
“Okay, Bucky,” you smiled up at him, hanging onto the comfort of breaking a certain barrier between you two, by being allowed to use his nickname. You didn’t think you heard anyone at work call him that.
His eyes darkened. He traced his fingers along the back of your neck, before settling his whole, big hand on your shoulder.
“Say it again,” he demanded.
“Bucky,” you said it softly, sensing unbearable tension growing between the two of you.
“Sweetling.” His low growl reverberated right against your clit.
You would hope he didn’t notice you clenching your thighs, but with how his own leg was pressed to yours, there was no doubt he felt the shift.
Suddenly, his eyes sharpened, his gaze briefly shifting above your head before returning to you. His hold on your shoulder relocated as his arm smoothed around and down your back, his fingers digging into your waist as he pulled you closer to his side.
“Don’t speak.” Bucky ordered in a hushed tone. “Don’t engage, even if he tries to address you. Just sit quietly beside me and drink your wine. And follow my lead.”
“An accessory,” you nodded, taking a sip of sweet alcohol. You didn’t feel particularly disappointed with being reduced to quiet arm candy. It wasn’t your meeting, nor for a business of your department, so you felt no urge to prove yourself.
“You’ll be good, sweetling.” He declared, as if you had no option but to obey.
As his eyes held your gaze, you felt something shift inside you. Like a thin string wrapping itself around your throat. Its other end seemed to be in Bucky’s hand. An invisible leash that compelled you to follow his lead, just like he said you should.
Compelled… The word echoed in your head, scratching against your skull with some knowledge you couldn’t remember.
You focused on it and on the sweet taste of the wine as someone entered your space. You cast a quick glance at the large man, but remained glued to Bucky’s side like he wanted. Their words flew in and out of your ears, actual information barely sticking with your awareness. You were more entranced with Bucky’s voice.
And the way his fingers started running up and down your arm. Cold, yet enticing that very lively sensation.
Words about takeover alerted your mind, but then that shiny, invisible leash tugged on you gently and your brain settled back into its comfort of focusing on Bucky.
At some point, his teasing fingers closed around your hand and he brought it to his lips. He kissed the soft part below your thumb then pressed his mouth to your wrist. Right over where your pulse danced.
Your body tensed at once, a pained gasp leaving your lips as Bucky’s fangs pierced your skin.
He bit you without any warning. Like it was his privilege.
Tears filled your eyes as you looked up at him with a flare of betrayal. His gaze shifted from the other man to settle on you, even as his lips remained sealed into your wrist, sucking slow sips of your warm blood.
Be good, sweetling. His voice filled your head.
It hurts. You weren’t even aware that your whine didn’t form into actual words spoken aloud, but was merely a pathetic sound accompanying your thoughts.
Does it? Bucky’s eyebrow arched as he drew more of your blood in, then swiped his tongue along your sensitive, punctured skin.
You blinked, dazed. When he bit you there was pain, but as he sucked you… You felt the throbbing in your wrist, but its echo was a more pleasurable beat that had your nipples and clit thrumming.
You watched Bucky lick his lips clean and return to his conversation with ease, as if taking your blood was nothing more than sipping a drink. Which he did again a few minutes later, lifting your hand and sinking his fangs a little lower into your forearm.
A soft, little cry spilled out of your mouth, but your legs parted wider to ease your throbbing clit.
There was no previous agreement to Bucky drinking from you, yet somehow you didn’t resist as he took. Your body simply molded to his demand. Your brain resisted, angry and sobbing at the inability to fight, but that rebellion came and went like sparks of a badly functioning electricity.
You didn’t want it, didn’t consent to it, but it felt so good. Made you a good kind of dizzy. Ligheaded, like you had one glass of champagne too much. Your usually buzzing body felt softened and pliant.
For once you were calm and nestled, not a chaotic shard not fitting to the surroundings.
You spread your legs wider. The table separated and obscured the view of you from the stranger, but you had an inkling that the arousal trickling between your folds wafted into the air.
It sure reached Bucky’s senses. Behave, his hand on your waist tightened its grip.
I am, you boldly replied to the phantom voice in your head and promptly brought the glass of wine to your lips. You drank half of it in one go.
A part of you expected Bucky to act rashly. To show irritation or impatience, but then again you never saw him lose the winter cool of his demeanor. He didn’t react to your mental hiccup either, simply carrying on the conversation with the other monster.
However, his hand smoothed up your arm slowly. Fingertips danced over the puncture wounds which he sealed with a swipe of his tongue, then traveled upwards.
He took the thin strap of your dress between his thumb and forefinger and dragged it down your shoulder. Black fabric covering your breast fell down, swaying in a soft roll right above your nipple. Just when you thought his retaliation was driven to the max, Bucky’s hand skimmed over your collarbone and down to the swell of your breast.
Voice not wavering even once, as he kept talking over some business details, Bucky slipped his fingers under the silk of your dress and took your tit out.
No! Your humiliated consciousness screamed silently.
Bucky remained unphased. He exposed your breast, running his fingertips around the areola and flicking your puckered nipple.
When the other man started talking, simply continuing the conversation as if you weren’t lewdly displayed in front of him, Bucky tipped you back. The arm around you tightened, supporting your back. His other hand cupped your breast as he sank his teeth into the soft tissue.
More wetness pooled in your core, even as pain from the bite zapped your synapses.
You were nothing but a chalice of wine from which Bucky sipped whenever he wanted. However he wanted to.
A morsel to bite and chew slowly.
He didn’t seal that bite right away, so the blood trickled down slowly as he helped you back into a sitting position, cuddled to his side. You felt the warm liquid gather atop your nipple into a ruby drop.
Bucky swiped it with his thumb, teasing your nub as he did.
When he brought the thumb to his mouth to suck it clean, you stared up at him in horror and awe. That handsome face with chiseled jawline and cheekbones, pale pink lips wrapped around a marble white, thick thumb. As he released his finger, you saw a flash of his teeth - a smudge of your blood covering them.
His thumb was coated with Bucky’s saliva as he brought it down to rub over the bite, sealing your wound.
The hand on your waist gripped your elbow when you attempted to reach for the strap and cover yourself back. Leave it, Bucky’s low command resounded in your head. What?! No! Why? It was indecent! He wasn’t even drinking from you anymore. Just holding you partially naked and humiliated.
Because I wish so and you’re mine to do whatever I please.
There wasn’t even a seductive lilt of teasing to his tone. It was a richly dark declaration of ownership you didn’t expect.
You wanted to protest, to scream it out at him that you didn’t want it. That even if some aspects of his actions were arousing you, you weren’t his to treat like a toy, or blood bag. That’s when your memory flashed back to the exact conversation you had with Bucky when you negotiated the rules of the bet.
What you interpreted as company for one night, for this particular meeting, was never in fact stated as limited. Bucky never said for one evening. He only demanded that you’d give him your company.
Now, his voice returned, as calm as before, sit still and drink your wine, or I’ll take your other tit out.
Anger and despair flared inside you, as hot as the wave of dark excitement that turned the fabric of your panties into a soaked mess sticking to your folds.
What he said and did to you was bolder and filthier than you tried with any of your former lovers. It didn’t only push, but crossed your boundaries. But even as he did something so unpredictable like undressing you in public, there was calculated deliberation in it. Cold, lethal precision strumming your responsive pressure points.
Will you let him drink from me? For some reason, you clenched your fingers on Bucky’s suit jacket, clinging to him as terror of what might actually happen took over.
No. You’re mine. Came his instant, firm response.
But there was only silence when your panicked voice asked, Will you kill me?
He left you hanging with that worry as he wrapped up his meeting. The wine kept your blood rushing warm, as did Bucky’s closeness, but your heart started to drag with growing dread. Needing something to anchor yourself to, you stared at the rings on Bucky’s fingers.
It was only when his voice reached your ears that your head snapped up and you realized the other man was gone.
“You did really well for your first time, sweetling.” Bucky’s fingers gently took your chin.
Despite the allure of his eyes and his hold on you, the spark of dread spread into a sticky web that filled you with all sorts of cold, breath-stealing fears. His choice of words was deliberate. Everything Bucky did was. So it meant he planned on there being a second, a third, and more events similar to that night.
Bucky took your empty wine glass and placed it on the table. Then he readjusted your dress and helped you up onto your feet. He narrowed his eyes for a moment, muttering something about getting you a proper coat.
A waitress waited by the exit, handing you a to-go cup of something hot as Bucky led you toward the door. Your fingers wrapped around the warm cup, scenting something sweet.
You had a thought of making a scene, making a run for it, but this place was filled with monsters who, undoubtedly, would be on his side. And Bucky was a damn vampire, who could probably catch you before you made half a step.
Also, whatever was in that cup was really tempting you to drink. And his hand on your back felt nice, too.
As Bucky guided you down the steps, a sleek, black car stopped at the curb. Some young man jumped from the driver’s side and gave Bucky keys with a deep bow. Huh, you didn’t know they had valets here.
Bucky helped you into the passenger’s seat and buckled your seatbelt. So engulfed by the cozy warmth and spicy scent, you didn’t think to use the moment of him walking to the driver’s side to try and escape.
But the question returned, rolling out on your tongue as Bucky cut through the city with speed right on the edge of limit.
“Are you going to kill me?”
“Not yet.” Bucky’s calm, simple response was like a blade piercing through your chest.
“The process is more complicated. There are rules-” he paused, hearing your intake of breath. When he looked at you, you were curling in on yourself and leaning against the side door, like you wanted to blend into it and disappear.
Something flashed in his blue eyes and after a moment you were pulling away from the door and sitting back in your seat.
Bucky’s fingers cupped your chin. Even with only one hand on the steering wheel he had full control of the car.
“I’m not disposing of you, sweetling.” He assured you. “You’re my feeder. And will become my companion.”
Companion. It echoed in your head. You agreed to be his company. But you didn’t know it meant something more for a vampire.
The bites on your body pulsed with awareness, reminding you of the way he sunk his teeth into you. You wondered if his cock would sink into you with the same seductive firmness.
Your previous dizziness from the blood loss was nothing compared to the chaos that Bucky’s revelation brought. On the way to his estate he explained more, stating details of his plans for you as if he was reporting something obvious. Each sentence of the fate he weaved for you, however, leashed on your skin like a lick of flogger. Hurting and pushing your mind toward a cloudy space.
With some last remnants of panicked will, you attempted to run when he parked in front of an impressive estate. He caught you in a blink of an eye. Then those blue eyes were staring into yours and an invisible leash tugged on you, calming you into compliance.
He made you drink that hot chocolate, which you got in the to-go cup, as he steered you through the corridors of the mansion. Rich sweetness filled your mouth and brought a sense of regeneration.
The cup dropped forgotten when Bucky brought you into his bedroom. Somewhere between his words about keeping you here with him for two years, until you learned all the rules, all the expectations and attuned to your role at his side, he unzipped your dress and pushed it down to the floor.
Your hands against him held zero strength as he spread you on his massive bed, your attempts at fighting him off melting as his teeth scraped along your naked body.
“Your blood tastes like decadent chocolate” Bucky hummed against your hip bone. “I bet your cunt tastes just as sweet.”
He ripped away your soaked panties then spread your thighs wide apart. His lips mouthed against the delicate skin of your inner thighs. You knew there were some crucial arteries there and you wondered how much it would hurt when he bit into one.
But he didn’t. Instead, Bucky kissed further up. He licked the seam between your thigh and cunt, then traced your outer lips with his tongue.
It was atop your mound, a breath away from your clit, where he slowly, torturously slow, sunk his teeth in.
You screamed and he held you down.
He didn’t suck your blood right away, but pulled back and watched it trickle down onto your glistening pussy. Dark red juice dripped down your clit and between your swollen folds.
Bucky dove in. Feasting on your cunt with reverence and hunger he didn’t display before. He licked your blood and your slick, mixed them on you and on his tongue. His growling, near animalistic sounds vibrated against your sensitive core.
He made you come while he made you bleed. Licking and swallowing your wetness; holding your hips down in his strong grip as your body twisted and writhed in pleasure-and-pain.
Then he drew another blinding climax out of you, driving two of his ringed fingers into your sopping cunt and at the same time sinking his teeth back into the open bite atop your mound.
He closed your wound, but didn’t wipe away the blood as he kissed up your body. When he bit your breast, he let the blood drip down the swell of it, too, before licking it off your skin in tantalizing, sensual strokes.
You hurt from the bites, but Bucky’s mouth and touch brought you so much exquisite pleasure.
He drank from both your breasts, smudging your blood all over his mouth as he kissed your skin through the ruby mess. Closed the wounds with a teasing lick of his tongue, before flicking it against your hardened nipple and sucking on it so hard you felt that suck on your clit.
“You’re delicious, sweetling.” Bucky rasped against your ear. “And such a good girl for me.”
You felt the nudge of his cock between your folds. Your hips rocked up eagerly, but your weakened arms drew between your bodies to push him away.
Sensations were overwhelming. You feared that your brain might completely shut down, if Bucky added to it the stretch of his cock and ripping pleasure of being fucked.
Gently, he pried your hands away from his chest and placed your arms next to your head on the mattress. He pinned them down as he rolled his hips into you.
“Gotta do it, sweetling,” he hushed your mewls. “Gotta break your body before sunrise, so your mind starts to learn to sleep all through the sunny day.”
“It’ll take weeks to fully break you.” Bucky sneaked one of his hands between your bodies, to guide his cock into your entrance. “I’ll exhaust you over and over again, until your body conditions itself to shutting down with sunlight and waking up at sunset. Until you’re molded to me.”
Your lips parted on a strained moan as he slowly penetrated you.
Just like you suspected, Bucky drove his cock into you with a firm, steady stroke, just like he sunk his teeth into your skin.
As his dick stretched your pussy, Bucky kissed you. Sensual and languid. Getting you drunk on his lips and taste like the most potent wine. He welcomed your yielding moan with a victorious growl.
Then, as the head of his cock nestled against your cervix and he bottomed out, Bucky’s fangs dipped into your lips.
You clenched around him, your body tensing like a cord as he drew blood from your mouth. He sipped on you, forcing some of the metallic sweetness of your own blood onto your tongue.
Bucky soothed your lips with a swipe of his tongue, before lifting his weight on his forearms. He looked down at you - all dark, ruthless beauty of him, with eyes glinting winter storm and mouth red with your blood.
There were smudges of red on his torso, as well, from where his body pressed into the bloody mess he created as he drank from various spots on your chest and belly.
“You already take me so well and feed me so sweetly,” he said, licking remnants of your taste off his bottom lip, “you’ll learn to take all the pleasure and pain I give you. And someday you’ll take my blood and I’ll show you what ecstasy of a vampire feels like.”
With that he withdrew, only to slam back in a hard snap. Your body jolted, your back arching.
You were so weak, so lightheaded. Exhaustion was pulling you into darkness. But the way Bucky was fucking you bursted through that dark with fireworks. His name was a broken cry on your lips, so soft it may have been a whisper. Or a prayer.
“I deliberately had the sheets changed to white.” Bucky mused, driving into you harder, making your legs jerk helplessly with each thrust of his hips.
“Wanted to see the stains from your cum and blood on it. You make such a pretty mess.”
Your consciousness drifted away completely after he tipped you into another orgasm, relishing in the way you screamed and clenched around him. Your body was boneless as he chased his own release, groaning it not soon after you floated into sleep.
To him you looked most beautiful: spread out on the crumpled sheets, your body smeared with blood and bearing marks of his bite. Stains of red and acidic wetness splattered the sheets between your legs.
Bucky leaned down, one more time biting into your mound. A shallow wound this time. Just so he could watch your blood slowly trickle down in a thin stream and mix with his cum dripping out of your fluttering pussy.
You remained unconscious when he cleaned you up. As well when he ripped away soiled sheets and replaced them with a set of fresh ones and climbed into bed next to you. He held you in his embrace as you slept through the day that stretched outside; heavy, black-out curtains preventing a single sunray from sneaking inside.
When you’d wake up late in the afternoon, Bucky was going to provide you with a hearty meal and adequate vitamins. He’d tell you more of the rules. Then he’d break your body again.
#scaretale universe#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes smut#vampire!bucky barnes#dark!bucky barnes#bucky barnes fic#relish your scream
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Assorted Media Sentences, Vol. 18
(Sentences from various pieces of media. Adjust phrasing where needed)
"You have a lot of love for him, don't you?"
"As tempting as your offer may be, I am a man of principles.... And they bribed me first."
"You're one of them, aren't you?"
"You're going to survive this, and you're going to see the bastards responsible suffer. I promise you that."
"I don't want to get you drunk, but that's a very fine Chardonnay you're not drinking."
"You don't have to live in the past. Just let it go."
"Aren't you the cutest little thing when you're being shy?"
"You look so pretty in that dress!"
"Are you bringing home strays now?"
"I love a rum and coke in the middle of the day! It makes me feel like I'm on a tropical island!"
"You are not as charming as you think you are."
"Apart from feeling like someone stuck knitting needles in my ears, I'm fine!"
"You know that feeling you have that we've met before? It's the same with me."
"Strange how memory can come and go, isn't it?"
"You know what I said the other night about how I admire you? I really meant it."
"I came back to finish you off."
"Exciting? People are dying! I don't think exciting is the word I'd use to describe it!"
"We have existed this way for thousands of years. Who are you to challenge our ways?"
"Oh well. It's not the first time my heart's been broken."
"Tonight's the night I get some answers, one way or another."
"Tonight, the age of man comes to an end."
"Dying in a hail of bullets seems like such a waste, don't you think?"
"Who wears a suit to dispose of a body?"
"Are you rich? How much?"
"We got off to a rough start. It happens."
"That's a bad idea, but you're free to indulge it."
"Does a closed door mean nothing to you?"
"We all have our secrets - even me. Especially me."
"Drunk, I'm an open book. Sober, I'm cagey as hell."
"We're not trained in kindness. It's not a prerequisite. In fact, sometimes I think it's trained out of us."
"Can we go? This place is really freaking me out!"
"Wait a minute! You used me as bait?"
"Do you remember when you first felt an emotional attachment?"
"Aren't you getting a little tired of this? Because I know I am."
"You know, I think if you're going to do something stupid, love is probably the best excuse going."
"There's still a war going on, and I have a job to do."
"Never underestimate the female of the species. It won't end well."
"If once is a mistake and twice is unfortunate, what does that make this?"
"I'm not going to take advice from some thief!"
#rp meme#rp memes#roleplay meme#roleplay memes#rp prompts#roleplay prompts#sentence starters#assorted;#general;
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Hi! Your Being Human posts have gotten me really interested, but I’m possibly the world’s most squeamish man. Is there a lot of sudden/unexpected gore or grossness, stuff I wouldn’t be able to anticipate and look away before it happens? It’s hard to find that info on advisory guides.
Like for comparison, I stopped watching IWTV after the episode where Lestat punched through a priest and strung up a disemboweled guy, both of which I did not anticipate fast enough.
Thanks for any advice you can give me!!
PS Google says there’s a Brit and American version, which is the good one?
there are frequent scenes of werewolf transformations, which I wouldn't say are gory but they are quite body horror-y and are meant to look very painful, and there are equally frequent scenes of vampire feeding where people get bitten and perhaps a bit covered in blood. sometimes there are corpses in pools of blood, sometimes the corpses are arranged in deliberately shocking ways.
other notable gore stuff, with mild spoilers:
in 2.01 a character dies very painfully and bloodily in a medical setting, you can probably get away with covering your eyes once the character starts bleeding and just get the gist from the audio. a similar scene occurs later on with another character but the process they undergo stops before the point of no return, again you can probably just cover your eyes when the blood starts.
episode 3.03 revolves around a zombie character who is actively rotting, she's gross as hell, I'm not sure there's much to be done about this one apart from watching the handful of scenes she isn't in and reading a detailed summary.
a character gets disemboweled in the opening to episode 4.08, it's pretty easy to tell that he's about the get got by the villain so you should have time to look away
those are the main things I can think of, others feel free to comment if I've forgotten something major!
I watch the uk version, I've heard mixed things about the us one but I haven't seen it so I can't properly comment on its quality, apart from saying that every time I see a clip I get a strong this is not my beautiful house this is not my beautiful wife energy.
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I've been thinking a lot lately about how Mizuki is kinda too perfect as a trans character. Their family is accepting and they can pass effortlessly. The only issue they have is really the only one that could be left after that point: society's view of trans people.
But while this is great and I really appreciate how Mizuki is written, handled, whatever, it just makes everything about being a regular transfem hurt even more...
I've been working on a 4 hour video essay about Mizuki for almost a month now and every time I replay parts of the story involving Mizuki's sister Yuuki, I just can't help but begin to break down. The way she has never left Mizuki alone when they were vulnerable, the way she's supported Mizuki with everything she possibly could. Her words, her gifts, her clear love for Mizuki is something I wish I ever had. I've always been alone I feel like. I never had anyone who I was able to comfortably share my femininity with. Even now, I feel like that same femininity isn't something I can share with most trans women I meet.
When I see the things Yuuki says to Mizuki, it's just too much. It's this amazing warmth that I never had and I wonder if I will ever get to have. Even outside the story... I just read an alternate timeline fic where Ena's the one who gets Mizuki out of the closet and not Yuuki. Even that like, it really hurts you know?
Beyond Yuuki, the way that Mizuki presumably doesn't have to put effort into passing is difficult as well. Truly their only obstacle is finding acceptance. And well, for them, there is still the existential obstacle of being trans - being born in the wrong body - but it doesn't stop them from presenting comfortably in a way that they're happy with. Meanwhile, I feel like most trans women don't get to pass. I think I've only known one trans woman who passes.
So now there is not only acceptance (which is more complex and difficult if you don't pass), but also this whole aspect of maintaining constant courage against the negativity of society, which is a tremendously heavy thing. And sure, Mizuki deals with this too, but in a different way. The door for them to blend into society is open, but for those who don't pass, the door might be so hard to find that it might as well not be there.
When I compare myself to Mizuki, I just feel... inadequate. I never meant to do it intentionally but the moment it happened it sent me into a spiral.
"I'll never have what they have."
And I know they're a fictional character and are probably an unattainable standard but idk it just, it's hard not to compare myself? Maybe I'm just stupid.
They're just too perfect, despite how "rough" their story is. I think it's really their downfall in terms of becoming the best possible representation and I mean, I was never expecting that from them. It's just an issue with their character I think, though one that couldn't really be avoided with how the writers wanted to execute their character.
Idk, I love Mizuki but sometimes it hurts when I think about them.
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🪶 Amatus rookanis bc my mind is on overdrive enjoy 🪶
"I'm so sorry, Lucanis. I promise I won't leave you to deal with this by yourself-"
"This isn't your problem, Rook." Even if he tried to pull his hand away from where she clasped it between both of hers, her grip is too tight for that.
And, if he stops to admit it to himself, a little too wanted, as well.
"It doesn't have to be yours alone, either. I just need to ask Neve something really quick, before I forget it happened."
Lucanis sets down his cup.
"Which part of it? The Venatori witch bathing in an ocean of blood or where she started to turn old the minute we pulled her out of it?"
"No, no, what she said - I'll be right back, I promise. Keep the coffee warm for me?" She forces a smile onto her face as his hand drops uselessly to his knee.
Then she trips over the edge of the rug and pulls down a chair as she all but flies out of the room and into - well, the courtyard, such as it is. Their plates still sit by the stove, cold and untouched. He'd made the gratin because of her off-handed comment that she misses it. Thought it turned out good, too, when he tasted it.
And now, because of him, she goes hungry and the dish cold.
Lucanis doesn't follow. If she wanted him to know, or thought he needs to, she would haven taken him along. He brews up another coffee, instead.
Spite threatens to split them down the middle by his legs for the inaction. So Lucanis makes the coffee a little stronger, chops up some extra dill for Rook's plate.
-
"Dulzura, what's wrong?" He finally asks, after the third of her sighs, each louder than the other, each sounding troubled like a cat that needs to get up and walk three steps for food.
"Oh, nothing," but her fingers grip tighter around her cup. "Don't worry about me."
"You worry about me all the time. Let me help."
Another heavy sigh, but the one that means she's worn down. He feels a little bad for pushing her.
She puts down her cup and picks up one of the Orlesian pralinés the Inquisitor had sent with the last missive from the South. Instead of eating it, she rolls it around between her fingers and gets chocolate crumbs all over the palm.
"It's about Illario. Well, Zara and Illario. I- have a theory. If you'd rather not talk about it-"
"Tell me." Rook lifts her head for just a second, considering how serious he truly is about the request. When she replies, she goes back to considering the praliné.
"I have reason to believe they were lovers."
Beside him, Spite screams so loud it makes his ears ring.
"Lucanis?" When he looks back at her, the worry in her eyes makes him feel sick.
"Explain."
"What she called him. Amatus. Before he killed her, and when - when Emmrich made her speak." Her tongue darts out, wets her lips, takes off what little glitter the day had left on them. "I asked Neve what it meant, and- she said it's a term of endearment."
No.
"No. We- we found the lovers. We killed her."
"Seems those two weren't the only ones."
Spite's tantrum feels loud enough to make her ears ring, also, even if she can't hear him right now. She can see the candleflame move with the rage.
"I don't know which is worse - that she helped him get rid of me because they were lovers, or that they teamed up and became lovers along the way. That they fell in love because of what I do to those around me."
The saucer cracks with how hastily she puts down her cup. Puts the hand not covered in chocolate on his knee. It does not still the bouncing.
"One does not have to be worse than the other. Sometimes things just suck. It's not because of what you do to those around you, or Spite. You care too much. I know you do." The words don't comfort him, and she can tell.
"Or maybe she dangled the prospect of affection in front of him to get him to do her bidding," she offers, eventually, poorly.
"You believe that as much as I do."
"I'm sorry, Lucanis. If there's anything I can-"
He leans back into his chair. His heart hammers in his chest, in his throat. He thinks he might cry.
"No, no. I- thank you, for telling me. I'll let you know as soon as Teia and Viago send word. Excuse me. I'd like to be alone for a moment."
"Of course," she squeezes his knee, pushes the plate of pralinés closer to him before he stands. "You're welcome to the pralinés, if you like. Chocolate always helps me calm down," she waves her dirty hand and pats the other on her belly with a small smile. "If you want to - not be alone, I'll be there."
Lucanis tries one praliné, but nausea makes him gurge it right back up.
🪶
🤷♀️ send tweet
[~rina]
#rookanis#rook x lucanis#lucanis dellamorte#lucanis x rook#dragon age#dragon age the veilguard#dragonage#spite dragon age#rinawrites#rinascreamsaboutbioware#antivan crow rook#rook#de riva#de riva rook#veilguard spoilers
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The snapdragons do not react.
They stare into him, looming once more. Promise, promise, a golden thread that begs to be used.
Swear it, they want to say. Swear your life. Your name. Swear it to me.
It's their instincts crying out for a deal. A chain.
But isn't this enough? Promising it? To a fae? There's already magic working to it. Don't force the poor child into something he can't break.
Promises aren't meant to be broken.
Go on, now.
Say it.
He needs to learn to never try to double cross fae. He needs to learn the consequences of promises. Isn't it better with you? You like to be...so... soft on your little... humans.
It would be simple.
Something flutters beneath their bangs. Their body seems to uncoil from itself.
They are too, too, tall.
Do you promise? Do you promise? Do you promise?
He's already made the promise in the home of a fae. It's enough.
No, it is not.
Tell him to swear it. Shake his hand. Pinky promise- human children like those, don't they?
"O-okay." They say instead, and they look like nothing had ever changed. "You said you promise. I'll trust you."
They glance at his watch. ...huh.
"About a sixth of a cycle." They reply easily, before wincing. Right. Use normal terms, and all that. "...uhm. I mean- two ...hours...? Yeah, hours."
They should know this by now. And they do! They really do. They just second guess sometimes!
Flick, flick. Isn't there an important detail?
"It...shouldn't be more than two hours when you're back in Gotham. I think. The time should be shortened, not lengthened. If it's lengthened, something's wrong..."
They clap their hands together and shake their head.
"But- but it should be fine! Haha..."
Padding away back to their kitchen counter. "And of course you can come back! I really don't mind. The wards should allow you inside, but..." She pulls a hibiscus out of seemingly nowhere, holding it out to Vice. Well, it looks like some kind of hibiscus. The stem extending out of it shifts slightly, like roots.
"This should make sure you're safe- and that you can always contact me. The entrance...kind of moves, sometimes. People shouldn't notice it unless they're really looking or have some kind of- of- magical vision. And it's a nice way to let other magical beings know you're being protected."
A tilt of the head. "Do- do you want food for the road..? Snacks? I know someone who runs a kind of food stand- I supply him with food, sometimes, so you can pass it off as having bought it from there if you have to-"
(( are you fine with novella roleplay, mun??? ))
[ location linked ]
((Damn I’ll try my best! Never really done it before but I get the jist!))
Gotcha !!
See ya (?) soon !!
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Aro culture is not understanding why people break up if they had been swooning over each other.
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#gayundertaletrash#aro culture is#aro#aromantic#actually aro#actually aromantic#ask#mod axel#tl;dr sorta explanation: two people can really like each other but find that in practice they cannot maintain a healthy relationship#that can be due to problems with (for example) codependency / life events / difficulty when constantly around each other#and many more things that are largely specific interactions of those#sometimes you really like something but it just isn't meant to be#(if it helps to conceptualize it: i fucking love ice cream... but i wouldn't feel good if it was all i ate (codependency ish)#i might not be able to access it / have an upset stomach / etc (life events) even though i like it#and even if it wasn't everything i ate i might struggle if it was part of my every meal#just... liking =/= good in a relationship
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We ought to write more Pokemon fic some time. We want to recreate the Pokemon Manners/Human Manners cheat sheet that we made a few years ago we think that this site would like the Sliding Scale Of Politeness When Greeting A New Pokemon You've Never Met Before.
#we speak#writing#we grew up with pmd games and we feel like the way that pmd pokemon's dialogue tends to be excessively... direct?#should be a feature and not a bug when any pokemon that you meet might be totally unfamiliar with your species and biology#it's probably very polite to start up front with some basic facts about yourself so they know how to act going forward#the very upfront feel to dialogue also very much helps with keeping the dialogue feel more... pokemon#people mock the series for weird npc dialogue a lot but we think that taking these things literally makes for more fun society building#it doesn't all have to fit with socially acceptable for our world we think. polite in our world isn't even consistent by household.#sometimes a polite interaction sounds like “hello! i'm poochyena! i like to chase people and bite!”#name and immediately socially useful information. now you know about the chasing people and biting so you don't assume it's rude#of course poochyena bites and chases people. it likes to do that. you can say you don't like that and it might stop doing that to You#but it will not stop biting and chasing people because that's what it likes to do and it will probably only befriend people okay with that#it makes a very specific dialogue feel that's very fun to do. we like how the pokemon world tends to treat any sort of like#disability or “weird” things as something that you just say out the gate and everyones like “oh okay”#and then treat that as Part Of Interactions going forwards. there are a surprising amount of parts of the pokemon manga#that are dedicated to working around a character's disability after one or all of their means of dealing with it get taken out#admittedly we aren't that caught up on newer content but we find the way that it tends to be just Accepted as very refreshing#making the dialogue this direct does also tend to make it read as more “childish” in english and particular because a lot of Maturity's jus#learning how to dance around what you're saying or phrase it in different ways to get your idea across differently#whereas here everything is just as direct as possible. “i don't like charmander”. “i like roasting berries”. “i want to dig things up”.#all pokemon dialogue tends to go towards being exceedingly simple and it makes for some very distinct writing#especially when you have to tackle complex situations with characters who probably dont employ that sort of vocabulary#though we personally enjoy doing this sort of stuff your mileage may vary ofc#we are biased towards this sort of thins because we find it MUCH more fun to build up what we're talking about from blocks#than to like. try and use more indirect wording that may lose things in translation#unfortunately this is not fun in irl conversation. everyone has to be on the same page and you need to use the same playbook to communicate#we REALLY wish people said what they meant though. we're really tired of being asked shit like “is this accessible”#when what they mean is “can you climb these stairs” a question which depends on the day our energy level and how things have been going#there are a lot of things we could say that would make us feel like some sort of anti sjw type guy and a lot of em boil down to just#"for the love of god dont dance around a Sensitive Topic just get to the point and ask us about it this just makes things harder for everyo
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My sister-in-law frustrates me to no end even though we barely ever interact because she keeps inviting my partner to parties with her Christian Republican friends, even though my partner told her not to send an invite to us if those friends will be there. And even though my sister-in-law is bisexual!!
And then she turns around and complains about not knowing how to deal with her friends saying, like, horrible sexist stuff as though that is just some natural unavoidable quirk of having friends!
Like, these Christian Republicans she has befriended don't seem to be kind - they're not even nice a lot of the time! They don't make for good friends, and she doesn't seem happy or supported in relation to them. In fact, she basically only ever talks about how her friends and/or current boyfriend are making her unhappy!
Because here's the thing: The effect of prioritizing 'including your Trump-supporter friends at your parties' over 'being invested in creating a safe space for marginalized people in your home', is that people who DO care about creating those safe spaces... won't wanna hang out with you! Because if you invite both cats and mice to your table equally, only the cats will show!
She's so afraid of losing the shitty friends she has now that she allows them to act as barriers to accessing friends who are invested in her wellbeing in a capitalistic hellscape!
It makes me sad because she's basically trapped herself, and there's nothing I can do to offer help without either compromising my morals or making my partner's life way harder by starting shit with her family.
Like, I consider myself a good friend, yeah? I try really really hard to be one, and it matters to me immensely. I am ride-or-die for the folks I love, and I am invested in being open and vulnerable and radically safe to be around when it comes to building strong friendships that are mutually fulfilling. I have a unique talent for validating people that I have honed for years because I genuinely want to make sure people feel safe and loved and seen.
And if my sister-in-law and I were friends, I could give all of that to her. I would strive to be an example of what it looks like when someone decides to care about you and treat you right on purpose, without expecting anything in return but your mutual respect. She would be family. She would be [Queer] Family. I would see to it that she knew she could call on me when she needed a friend.
But like.
This asshole has invited me to hang out with Trump supporters on multiple occasions.
We ain't gonna be friends.
#original#diary#family shit#I'll just continue to act friendly at family events#my friends help make me a better person. i don't think she could say the same for hers. makes me mad and sad#reminds me of the time i had to end a friendship bc a woman i had been inviting to group events revealed to me that she was#literally friends with Kelly Ann Conway. yes the aid to the president. that Kelly Ann. and when i tell you this friend of mine did NOT#understand why her defending Kelly Ann Conway made me feel unsafe. it was WILD#that's how my sister-in-law reacted when my wife was like 'hey stop inviting my non-cis ass to parties with transphobes'#both made arguments similar to 'i already don't have many friends why do you want me to lose more??'#like girlies you can't invite me and a bunch of homophobic Christians to the same party what is fucking wrong with you??#you can goddamn bet if you came to one of my parties there wouldn't be anyone there who'd try to defend the Trump administration#loneliness is frightening and painful and no joke but cowardice is no joke either#and this attitude meant that my wife and i could not safely rely on her when we went through several crisis situations#and this is something i find difficult to forgive bc shit was touch and go over here for a couple years#my wife isn't even as salty as i am about it but she never is when the primary person harmed is herself#maybe if sister-in-law recognized the flawed behavior and changed but she probably won't tbh and i have shit to do#have fun with your fascist friends girlie i wonder if sometimes it feels more lonely than if you were alone#have fun practicing the white silence our parents got so good at; you're really carrying on the family business your dad must be so proud <#i haven't had to deal with friends saying sexist shit for literal years sorry you've made yourself unsafe to trans people i guess#making friends is hard i know that all too well. but i also know that the more friends i make who make me feel sad and small#then the less time i have for friends that make me feel loved and motivate me to be a better person. time=limited. people=over 6 billion.#school was harder because the amount of folks was more limited. same with small towns. but we are all ADULTS LIVING IN CHICAGO#capitalism makes finding friends harder too but like it has GOT to matter to you that Trans people and POC feel safe#we each have control over whether oppressed people feel safe around us. don't fucking waste that.
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#so I think ep 12 is really good - does it have problems? yes.#do I think Atom should've apologized to Boston's face properly? yes#do I think boston should've apologized to top's face properly? yes#do I think Nick's interesting choice words for his last convo with Boston were def harsh? yes#do I wish they did the fire topmew scene a bit differently to make it more poignant esp since they've been shitting on top? yes#so many things! And that's just ep 12 bc jfc if u asked me abt the other eps?...we'd be here all night#basically it's this - they are characters meant to rep early 20 something students who are so messy and flawed and reckless#will they each recognize every mistake they've ever made? noooooo bc WHY WOULD THEY??? WHEN ITS ABT THEIR PAIN!?!?#THEY ARE THINKING OF YHEMSELVES#THATS HOW IT IS SOMETIMES - I DO THE FUCKING SAME THING#it feels v much like the end of edge of seventeen where you're with a character you've bonded over for an hour and a half and realize#NO ONE is going to apologize to them - not truthfully or fully or genuinely or etc and it's sad and heartbreaking and painful#but newsflash - it happens#and don't think you've done it right all the first time and apologized rightfully - and if u did?? It's bc that person mattered to you!#these 'friends'??? while yes they are - they also are not#im fucking surprised they all stayed friends tbh bc they don't truly make sense long-run but they have that business together so let's see#let's face it - it's the friendships it's the meanings it's the labels it's the community it's the assumptions it's the lack of words#ya'll saying you want toxic but can't handle when everything is not fair#and it isn't fair! there's exec decisions there's editing decisions there's casting decisions! bruh. it was set up from the start.#editing based on audience reaction? bruh. played right into their hands#blabber time#please ignore me#not even gon put the tags bc ya'll vicious as fuck when it comes to your characters while valid I'm tbh too tired to hear abt
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I wish I didn't feel so violently alienated from my own religion sometimes. like I really do believe in what I believe in and I want to have a better and deeper relationship with God and I would like to build relationships with other christians and then whenever I hear other people talking about doctrine/scripture/God it just feels. so cold to me. or even just the way they act in general. it's very hard to explain but it always sounds like they're reading from a script instead of voicing genuine thoughts and feelings and it makes me feel like there's a barrier between me and them or I'm doing something horribly wrong, even if at the root of it I do agree with what's being said
#vent#talking to absolutely no one here I mean. I just made this blog#primarily for shouting into the void about things I'm unwilling to say elsewhere#part of this may also be because I'm autistic but even aside from that church talk feels awfully clinical sometimes#maybe it's just my scrupulosity/trauma talking but I never seem to feel at home anywhere and I often wonder if that's#just how it's meant to feel. I'm afraid of that I think#I want to feel human. I want to feel warm. I'm scared that I'm not allowed to but also I think thats the devil talking#but what if it isn't and I'm just doing something wrong or there's something wrong with me (hi scrupulosity) etc.#I want to keep my faith but I feel so estranged from both religious and secular people at all times and it's like.#neither of you understand or can/will speak to me in a way that makes me feel safe. ok#deep down I feel like I'm just a human body possessed by an incredibly skittish non denom prey animal#I don't really know if I just need to find people like me or if there are people like me or if I just need to get over it somehow?#if that makes any sense#I fucking hate anxiety days. constantly feeling convicted for no reason at all. and I was doing so well yesterday too
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A simplification:
Level 1-upper 2/lower 3: "yeah i can see that happening."
Level 4: "where did that even come from? that doesn't make any goddamn sense/he would not say that."
it came to my realization that 99% of my fandom related headaches would be cured if everyone understood this
#rant in the tags#YES OH MY GOD#might sound like a hypocrite after posting my own headcanons recently but eh#this is how i feel about....a lot of things#i rarely ever venture into level 3 territory#and when i do it's often because i don't like the work in question (but still study it. for science)#or feel it could've been so much more and just...isn't#but i feel like there's a LOT of level 4 out there that people somehow don't recognize as such#maybe they've spent too long without the source to give them information#or they somehow don't care despite saying all the time how much it means to them#and for some reason level 3-4 gets promoted to fanon VIP really fast#sometimes i wonder why i bother trying to stick closer to level 1-2 when that's apparently not what people want to see#or what they seem to like more as a whole#seems at least someone misinterpreted what this meant#it's not 'fanfic sucks and you should stop making it'#it's 'you literally made something up about this that has no basis whatsoever'#and they often don't bother to explain/it still makes no sense#it's all about the oocs and the 'he would not fucking say that' and what have you#not 'omg you're not allowed to think that bc it didn't literally happen in the show/the creator didn't say so'#it's largely that lv3-onward fanon tends to give someone outside of fandom context the entirely wrong idea of what the actual work even is#and that what make me angy
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So, I don't know if I'm ever going to watch the 5th Wave movie based on reviews I've seen for it now (even though I also feel bad saying this--and think maybe I should--because I'm also someone who thinks you should judge things for yourself), but I have watched a few amvs for it... and just based on that (though I admit that that might not be a fair metric to base it on), I do agree with people who think that Evan Walker was miscast (it also might have been direction issues). He just seems too earnest to me? Too trustworthy? And that's sort of a problem, of course, because you needed to have so many moments in the film where you didn't know if you could trust the guy or not. And based on the scenes I've seen, he doesn't seem mysterious/sketchy enough. He also doesn't give off the vibes where Cassie was like, "I'm going to kill Evan Walker!" because he was pissing her off so much. IDK. -shrugs-
#i also hear that ringer doesn't feel like ringer? and i haven't seen any clips of her to judge yet? but if so that's also a shame#i feel like they needed someone like how david boreanaz played angel or something#and i admit he wasn't always the best actor back then (he got better in his own show) but he definitely gave the 'i don't know if i can/#should trust you' vibes. and also the 'this guy is an asshole and i want to punch him in the face for it' ones sometimes#robert pattinson. too. in twilight. like... i have my issues with the twilight movie and even some of rob's casting in it believe it or not#but he also gave 'is this guy really trustworthy?' and asshole vibes in it#like i said: i don't necessarily blame the actor it truly might have just been bad direction#also... this might just be me. but i feel like some lines in things really should be read kind of matter-of-factly?#or at least that's how i read them? and i feel like if maybe if they were read that way they would have the intended affect? but in movies#actors put their whole heart and soul into them. and i GET why. but it's like 'no this character#isn't necessarily like that. or they have a certain time for that with the character. you don't have to read every line of theirs like it#was a life-changing moment for them.'#idk.#you know what my guess with ringer is? just kind of based off of polandbananasbooks description of movie ringer vs. book ringer is?#i think book!ringer was kind of based on anime characters who kind of talk emotionlessly (sometimes to seem/sound badass) and/or a lot of#times because of trauma#she seemed very homura akemi-y to me... and i feel like american directors don't know what to make of that. or probably don't even read tha#at all when reading the book (because they don't know the archetype). and so in the movie adaptation we get “whiny” instead#and to be fair... times when american media has tried to adapt that archetype it hasn't always worked. it DOES sound badass in japanese#but in english it often sounds like you can't act/can't emote#but yeah: both polandbananasbooks and i read ringer as kind of emotionless (rather her emotions were under lock and key) because of trauma#and badass so i do think that's how she's meant to be read
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I'm tired of the way we coddle "escapist" media. we act like, by virtue of being a simpler world, it shouldn't be held to the standards that more apparently complex stories are held to. and then, when the creator dares make your "comfort escapist show" have greater emotional stakes people have the audacity to say it's out of character
#this isn't about any series in particular#I just find it annoying that people throw around the ''its meant to be escapism'' around like that's enough to shield stuff from criticism#and i honestly kind of think it's not that healthy to be unwilling to interact with art that is not escapist in nature#like i get that the world isn't really great right now and sometimes you just want some comfort#but it can't all be comfort all the time#that's just burying your head in the sand#and holding creators responsible for your comfort when they dare make something you find discomfort in#is so entitled#creators have the right to make art they find interesting and challenging and sometimes that's comforting and sometimes it's not#i just think telling someone#''this is my comfort show it's escapism for me and i dislike this direction you took because it's not comforting anymore''#is so weird a thing to say#idk i just think sometimes people aren't willing to admit that escapism is an unhealthy coping mechanism#and that like any unhealthy coping mechanism#it should only function as something that helps you keep going until you can find healthier coping mechanisms#rather than a permanent coping mechanism that no one should criticize you for using
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I mean sure, I can understand this perspective, but I'm not sure whether most people feel less shaken to be thrust into conversations about "self-unaliving" than conversations about "suicide"
and I for one as a survivor would much rather unexpectedly encounter somebody talking about "rape" than somebody talking about how funny it is to have sex with somebody when they don't want to, a normal thing that doesn't need to be named because it's So Normal.
which is to say. this is a post about words. the words are not the distressing thing about the discussion. the distressing thing is the distressing thing about the discussion. sugarcoating, dodging or renaming the distressing thing doesn't make it less distressing but it DOES often make it harder to have a frank discussion about it or address it in serious terms.
[pinch of salt: solid probability from their blog that this person is a Literal 14 Year Old and the perspective from 30 and 14 are very different. I do stand by all the points I'm making but I think this conversation lands a lot different for people at different life stages - there is something to be said for the general issue that the internet has flattened social groups to the degree that I as a 30 year old can make a post to my audience of largely adult millennials that immediately enters the same conversational space as people half my age and still in school. that seems. ungreat. as the primary way we engage in conversation. but I don't have solutions to offer.]
you gotta be able to say "die"
you gotta be able to say "suicide"
you gotta be able to talk about "sex"
they're uncomfortable topics, YEAH for SURE
because LIFE is uncomfortable. Death and suicide and sex and pain are straight up going to happen. not having words for the way it discomforts you doesn't make it more comfortable, it just makes you less able to reach out about it.
even more vital, you gotta be able to say words like "rape", "abuse", "queer" or "racist". cause we fought fucking hard to name those experiences. to identify "rape" as distinct from "sex" and "racism" as distinct from "acceptable behaviour" and "queer" as distinct from "invert"
like the function of communication is not to minimise immediate discomfort. we gotta be able to talk about stuff that's hard or sucks or causes difficult conversations.
#red said#i also wholeheartedly disagree with the rest of your post#all entertainment is political. all of it. because politics is the models we use to describe how we interact as a community#and art is inherently communal. so it's inherently political.#that doesn't mean all entertainment has to be a Pure Political Statement. some stuff is just dumb because dumb shit is fun.#but like it's not. detached from the world. and a lack of political intent doesn't mean it's utterly unchallenging.#ok for example. have you ever. enjoyed watching a cheesy 80s zombie movie and it is gory and stupid and great#but then there's a scene where maybe there's a really fucked-up implication about what we as an audience are meant to think#or a rape scene played for light laughs. or whatever your line is.#and they meant it to be fun. you watched it for fun. but you're not having fucking fun any more. there's a bad taste in your mouth.#contrast. sometimes i am reading a nonfiction article for work or something. it is miserable and grim it is about homelessness and dv#but the writer has put it together so well and made their point so clearly you're like YES! YES! THAT'S IT!!!!#and even beyond that like. i am a disabled multiple rape and abuse survivor. i have been through a non zero amount of The Shit.#and a lot of the stuff i find most entertaining and relaxing is stuff that acknowledges that as a Thing Which Happens#like I'm a nerd man. i like video essays about misogyny and fascism and reactionary homophobia.#i like films that make me cry bc they touch an emotional raw spot. i like tiktoks where people joke about their experiences of abuse#i like SFF stories about trauma and survival and sad robots#and yeah you know sometimes i want to watch a comedy panel show or a tiktok of bottles rolling down stairs#but effective entertainment is a conversation! comedy and chill vibes rest on like. deciding what to riff on#and who your anticipated audience is. and nah actually that's not apolitical and also#identifying common human experiences like death or trauma or marginalisation as inherently Political and therefore Unfun#misses the point that like. the question isn't what you acknowledge but how you acknowledge it.#as a rape survivor. for example. i don't necessarily want to open tiktok to a lecture on rape culture.#but i might well stick about for a standup routine about being a survivor of rape#and i will absolutely bounce from a vid where nobody mentions rape bc they think what they're talking about is fine when it's. rapey af.#anyway. this is a sidebar cause even if i agreed about entertainment v politics my main point would still stand#but i very much don't agree and i think you need to maybe look at how you approach entertainment media as neutral#but also i feel very strongly about this and not to harp on the like aS A sUrViVoR thing but#AS A SURVIVOR my fucking LIFE includes ''dark topics'' like suicide and rape. and i don't appreciate how often that's treated as#an unfair imposition to speak about or acknowledge. 'dark shit' is inescapably a major part of my life/self AND I'm funny + entertaining
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The Dance Academy isn't a gang- DC X DP Prompt
Inspired by this prompt
Clockwork suggests to Danny, who's been the king of the infinite realms for 6 years now, that he should take sometime off in a mortal realm. He doesn't feel like going back to his own dimension (you choose the reason), so Clockwork suggest another dimension where he thinks Danny might have fun.
Danny investigates the dimension, and finds it is a dimension where some humans, who are called meta-humans, develop powers, mostly during their childhood. Danny knows how tiring and alienating it is to grow with powers that one have to hide. He wishes to give this kids a safe space to experiment with their powers, but not as a weapon, just as part of themself.
He chooses to create a dance academy, because dancing is something in which you use your body and express yourself. It would be an excellent way to encourage this kids to use their powers while enjoying themself. He decides to open the dance academy in Gotham, were it seems metas may feel more pressure to keep themself hidden. With his ability to see and feel the differences in soul it's easy to identify metas, so he starts scouting kids for the academy.
Of course convincing the kids that it's just a a dance academy that wants to create a save space for metas, instead is of a trafficking ring, is difficult. But once he gets the first couple kids in, slowly more come too.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Bruce is worried about the new possible meta gang that it's forming on Gotham, and sends Duke undercover.
It's hasn't been long since Duke joined the bats, and this is his first official undercover mission. He's excited at the start, feeling proud that he's been trusted with an independent job, but then he finds out that the "gang" it's just a dance academy. He's a little disappointed, thinking that this job is more of a probation thing than anything, since there isn't anything suspicious.
The bats tell him to stay in the dance academy, because maybe the dance thing is just a cover up and they'll reveal their real motives when he's actually accepted in the group. And Duke takes it as them wanting him to have a meta support system. See? He's learning to understand how the bats show love to each other!
Duke finds himself enjoying being in a dance group. It's a lot of fun. Danny it's fantastic, he has a lot of powers and isn't scare to show them. Which makes everyone in the group feel so much safer to use their own.
Danny encourages them to integrate their powers in their dance. It's freeing. Their powers are treated as a normal part of them, and not as this exotic ability that has to be controlled. It's such a safe space that all of them have gotten used to using their powers for day to day stuff when in the dance studio. It all feels so casual because no one bats an eye to it. There's no talk about how they should try to do things "normally," or limit their use of their power.
Danny: "Why would you? That's your normal, and this place is safe for you to just be you."
Duke realizes a bit late that the bats were actually suspicious of the group, and that his placement there wasn't really a probation. He's glad to know he was actually trusted with a job, but, he had really thought that every time they had asked about his day with the group was because they were interested in how he was doing. That they were showing love and interest in him in that evasive ways the bats did, and it kinda suck to know it wasn't the case. It also meant that he had to confront their family in their clear meta-discrimination.
"Would you have been so suspicious if it wasn't a meta group? No. Other than them all being metas there wasn't anything off. No proof of fights, no proof of robberies, no proof of trafficking, nothing.
There's no proof of anything other than a group of teens dancing, and you know that because you checked it out before sending me.
Like, I don't blame you for checking it, I'm not naive, but you were so sure it was a gang, just because they were metas. That's fucked up guys."
#dc x dp#dp x dc#dcxdp#dpxdc#batfam#bat family#batfamily#danny fenton#duke thomas#Danny Fenton becomes all of this kids older brother#He might have rooms for kids who were kicked away after reveling they're metas or had to run away for their safety#Duke was having the time of his life on the dance academy#Untill he realised the bets actually suspected the academy being a cover for a gang#Just because everyone in it was a meta#The bats only interact with metas under 3 circumstances#1) They're heroes (Who they already know or are presented to them as such)#2) Villains#3) Victims of trafficking#They rarely interact with them as just civilians#and don't notice they immediately jump to categorize them as threats if they aren't already people they know about or people they're saving
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