#the more I discover the more there seems to be

[mayakern]

Things are bad right now.

As many of you know, way back in 2020 we weren’t sure if our business was gonna make it. Our factory was already on break for Lunar New Year–a month-long holiday for many businesses in the area–and with the announcement of COVID19, everything shut down indefinitely. We knew immediately we were in for a bad time. Despite our fears, our sales grew so far beyond anything we ever expected, to the point where we had to hire two employees just to keep up with demand! 

Unfortunately, even after our factory reopened, our problems were not over. Their quality drastically declined almost immediately, to the point that a significant amount of our  fabric would literally fall apart in transit between the factory and our office. Because of this, we discovered that our sales rep had no idea what she was doing and knew nothing about the factory she was representing, so when we told her the fabric was garbage her response was “👍 factory said it’s good!” At the beginning, only roughly 10% of our new product was defective and we were able to sell the affected items with a reasonable discount. By the end of our relationship with that factory, 40% of our midi skirts and 70% of our miniskirts were defective, some affected so severely that they practically fell apart when touched. And still, our rep said everything was fine and there were no problems and the fabric composition had not changed.

So in 2022 we changed factories. We hired Ash to handle this since I was way too busy managing fulfillment to do the amount of research and communication necessary to find us a factory that met our criteria. Finding clothing factories that can make clothing over a size 2-3X is significantly more difficult than one that can’t because it often requires larger and more expensive machinery. But Ash did it: she got us set up with a new factory that has excellent certifications for both their labor practices and their methods for textile production, that delivers consistent, high quality sewing on well made fabric that can be printed without suffering loss in detail–and she was armored with the knowledge for what makes a quality garment so she could check them if they tried to screw us on quality. Their minimum orders were way higher than our previous factory’s, so we decided to focus on ordering more units of fewer designs. We ordered way too much our first round–some of those designs were in stock until the 2024 blowout sale! But it worked out, and slowly we had a warehouse full of stuff to sell.

Fast forward to 2024, business is slowing down between the economy being bad and what seemed to be a general skirt fatigue amongst our customers. We tried expanding into shirts, which would’ve been successful if our minimums were lower. In the late spring we realized we were in trouble if we didn’t make drastic changes and we ultimately decided to end in-house fulfillment and transfer to a third party fulfillment center that would support domestic shipping in Canada and eventually the UK, EU, and Australia. In order to make that transition affordable we drastically discounted everything and that sale was super successful! We were able to begin shipping from the fulfillment center with an almost clean slate, even if it did mean having to close the store for almost two months and thereby missing out on two very important months of sales.

Unfortunately, we were stupid. We continued to order new designs on an every other month schedule instead of switching to an every month schedule, forgetting that having a backstock in a variety of designs is what previously helped us float between orders and now we quite literally didn’t have enough inventory to match the sales we made for last year’s holiday sale.

That brings us to now.

We’re a little stuck. We have a round of skirts in production (yay!) but they won’t get here until February (boo!). To get back on that monthly cycle we would need to order the next round of skirts right now, but we can’t pay for production until that next round of skirts gets here; if the current sale goes well, it’s paying payroll, not production. We are currently in the very difficult, horrible situation of not having enough money for next month’s payroll unless we are somehow able to make significant sales with our very sparse inventory.

We’re scrappy and we do our best to adapt to disasters and I’m sure we’ll find a way to adapt to this one as well, it’ll just take us some time to get there. Basically we’re going to be okay eventually–hopefully later this year–but in the meantime if we seem frantic, now you know why. 

If you’re been considering trying out our viscose shirts but haven’t been able to justify paying full price, they’re on clearance PLUS half off right now! That’s $9-$15 for the viscose tops, and other tops on clearance are $20-$45. Some of the shirts we’re having a LOT of trouble selling are now priced below cost to help us recoup some of the money we spent making them.

Any amount of support helps right now. Sharing posts, telling your friends, buying a $9 shirt–all of it helps. If our clothing isn’t your thing, we also have a Patreon you can support for as little as $1 a month. https://www.patreon.com/mayakern

Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you have a great rest of your day and that 2025 is a brighter, kinder year for us all.

[lambilegs]

getting acquainted with the dildo: attempt #1

contains: sevika teaching reader how to suck the strap, dry humping (reader doing it on sev's thigh), friends with (resolved, thank god) tension, slight humiliation kink, a bit of a spit kink, teasing, inexperienced reader, implied age gap (both reader and sevika are adults), sevika calls reader "kiddo" teasingly, reader's body is referred to w/ the following terms: "pussy," "clit," "cunt"

when you tell sevika that you've never used a strap-on before, you nearly beg some higher force to let the ground swallow you whole. you two have been friends forever, but lately, it's undeniable that some sort of molten desire has been pooling at the center of what you have. maybe it was always there, and had just been in denial. but, it's undeniably present now, impossible to ignore, thick and heavy in the air, lining every interaction with a sort of hot lava.

and it's made confessions like this, ones filled with sexual secrecy and exposed desires, carry a lot more weight than they did prior. you're pretty much confiding in a woman who you're aching to have sex with about just how much experience she should and shouldn't expect of you. it's way more vulnerable, and it feels like you're spoiling her prematurely by peeling away sexual secrets that in a different circumstance, one with just regular dating, she would've discovered on her own in the context of wanting to have sex with you. but, doing it in a friendship, when you don't even know for sure what she feels, is more uncertain. it's farther away from the line of actual romance and desire, and therefore feels risker to admit. because if your inexperience deters her, maybe she'll easily dismiss and rid herself of any attraction she might've once harboured for you, since it'd be simpler to as just friends.

so, to say the least, you're scared when confessing this secret to her.

at least, that's until you see the way her lip curls up when, while laying on her couch, you confess that you're nervous about one day using the strap due to never having done it before. she seems equal parts intrigued and amused by the revelation. from where she sits, picking at one of the screws in her arm, she asks, tone low, steady, "well, do you feel ready?"

"I don't know." you stare up at the ceiling, for the thought of maintaining eye contact through this conversation is a bit too unnerving for your liking. "I mean, I'm sure everyone feels... not ready when they start using it, right?"

she shrugs. "maybe. to a degree. but, you don't need to push yourself if it really scares you." her voice has turned tentative, face absent of the initial mischief. with the way she angles herself away from you, it seems that she's somewhat uncomfortable with giving such earnest advice.

"thanks for the sex-ed," you laugh, trying to ease the mood some.

"well, considering I've actually worn the strap and you've barely touched it, you could use all the advice you can get."

you try not to visibly tense up at the casually tossed comment. you knew sevika has used a strap, of course you did. you've been at her apartment enough times to catch sight of her lube or dildos (because, yes she has several) scattered about. but, god, the idea of it taut on her pelvis, ready to be used to pump into you, has your thighs tightening.

"well, then, oh-wise-one, what would be your advice?"

she shrugs, avoiding your gaze for a few seconds before saying, "getting acquainted with it. with things like sucking, touching, you know."

"sucking?"

"yeah." the corner of her lip quirks up as she raises an eyebrow at you. "never done that either?"

you feel your face warm, feeling awfully pathetic under her pointed gaze, years of experience behind it. "no." you groan, swiping a hand across your face. "god, I'm gonna be so horrible at it when I first do it."

"then, practice."

you scoff. "with who?"

"by yourself?" she drawls, casting you an incredulous look as though she aims for you to question your own stupidity.

you huff, turning away. "I can't do it on my own, how will I know if I'm even doing it right?"

"then, I don't know," she sighs exasperatedly, lighting her cigar. "someone you trust, I guess. someone who wants their dick wet."

"the only person I know who wants to get their dick wet is you," you snap, a petulant part of you hoping you can embarrass her as much as she does with you.

her lips wrap around the tip of the cigar, that scar on the bottom one seeming to deepen. it's almost entrancing, hooking your eyes in and leaving you resistant to its power.

you only snap out of the spell when she says, "is that your way of asking for it to be me?"

the words have your lips parting before you can force them shut. what the fuck is that supposed to mean? you're well-aware of the tension that's been there between you two, of course you are. but, you never imagined that sevika would actually initiate anything. sure, she's flirted here and there, and you're convinced she's started purposely mentioning stopping at babette's for the sole purpose of making you jealous (after all, she always has such a shit-eating grin whenever you fidget or glare at her in response). but, still, it's never amounted to an actual offer, an actual step over the threshold between friendship and, well, something else.

you know it's the more responsible decision to say no, and shut this down before things get complicated. or at least until you clear up whatever it is you guys consider yourselves to be in relation to each other, and if it's something that carries as much emotion to her as it does to you.

but, part of you wants to give into the throb between your legs, the thick tension crackling in the air, the way her gaze is resting on you calmly, as though debating whether or not she should pounce. and god, you want her to, itching with curiosity as to what she'd say if you teased back.

and so, you do. "why, are you offering?"

you get a world of satisfaction from the way she coughs at the question, puffs of smoke blowing from her mouth as she roughly clears her throat. beneath it all, though, is a very apparent underbelly of nerves in your stomach, tingling in anticipation for her answer.

when she finally sets the stupid thing down, giving her lungs a well-deserved break, she says, "why, do you want me to?"

you grit your teeth, a spark of irritation set aflame from this back-and-forth. you wish she could treat you with the courage she does anyone else, just answering your question then sweeping you off your feet with no action required of you. but, no, she just has to be cautious, and hesitant, and sweet. today, of all times.

you sigh. you suppose it's on you to end this game. your chest is tight with anxiety, the words about to roll off your tongue heavy and filled with consequence. but, you push through, anyways. if you remain vague, she will too. if you say no, you may lose your chance with her for god knows how long. so, the only option is: "fine, yes."

immediately, regret weighs upon you, sinking down into your guts. you shift, eyes pointed down to your knees, trying not to panic, when a small huff meets your ears.

it's sevika. sevika chuckling.

your eyes tentatively raise up to her, nails digging into the plush of the cushioned seat you're on. her small, endearing gap flashes as she shakes her head slowly, her laughter sounding split between amused and incredulous, bordering on a scoff.

you feel nearly glued to your spot when her eyes finally rest upon you, the grey shine in them wrapping around you and pulling, pulling and pulling.

she leans back in her couch, spreading her legs out. "well, then, hop on, kiddo."

and that's how you wind up on her thigh, her arm wrapped around your torso as you fist at the fabric taut over her broad shoulders. her mechanic hand squeezes into the silicone balls of a dildo, eyes stuck on your lips as she traces the tip over them. your breaths are heaving with anticipation as she strokes the head along the inside plush of your lips, getting the bulb of it wet and slick with your spit. the experience is exhilarating, for you know she's capable of going harder than this, of fucking your throat raw. but, no, she wants to take her time with you, draw out every drop and dribble of pleasure for the both of you.

"who knew you had it in you?" she muses with a raspy laugh.

before you can even speak to protest, she slides the entire head in, capturing your voice and transforming it into a broken, wanton moan of surprise. her eyes practically gleam at that, and she slides the dildo out of your mouth's confines with a pop before sliding the tip back in. your lips latch on automatically, hugging around the head and letting it roll around the flat of your tongue. despite the sheer anxiety of having sevika's attentive eyes on you, the motions of her push-and-pull into your mouth is almost -- well, relaxing? the repetitiveness of it, the way it gives you something to direct all your five senses to as it lolls about in your mouth, your lips tightening and loosening -- it makes your brain feel softened, hazy, lost in this.

"ah, look at that," she coos, her tone hushed and sharpened with an edge of mockery. "sucking on that like that's all you're good for."

the playful degradation makes your clit fucking throb, and without meaning to, your hips automatically jerk forward, the firmness of her thigh making your eyes nearly roll back.

"oh, someone liked that," sevika mutters.

her thigh suddenly bucks up, sending you bouncing on her lap and nearly toppling over if not for her muscular arm steadying you. the pressure against your pussy makes you whine around the toy, your lips stretching open to release the noise only has her pushing it in deeper, nearly a quarter of it now sliding up and against your tongue.

"suck it in and out, just like that," she whispers, her eyes burning into your skin as she intently watches you. you try to follow her directions, but your sucks are too eager, too fast, and sevika reaches her hand up and gently grabs your jaw, coaxing it into fluid motions that has the dildo being softly pressed and released by your lips' grip, over and over and over again.

you know this is a horrible idea, a fact that only becomes more punctuated with every thrust of the toy into your mouth. you know you should've had some more self-control, and should've put a stop to this inane idea before it had manifested into a reality. but, no, you just had to think with your pussy, and now look where it's landed you? on your friend's, a good, loyal, helpful friend's, lap, practically rutting like you're in heat and sucking dick with zero technique.

"when that gets a bit too repetitive, you can lick it." she abruptly yanks the dildo from your mouth, and an embarrassing wad of spit stretches out with it, spilling thickly down your chin. your face is practically burning from the heat of humiliation, but sevika doesn't seem to mind, only smirking and saying, "now, I was gonna tell you you can get messy with it, but you're a step ahead."

now that your mouth is finally freed, at least you get to spit out, "you're such a dick," as though your pussy isn't practically leaking with arousal.

"oh, so you suck off any asshole, then?"

"maybe I will once you're done with this lesson," you haughtily snap back.

her eyes narrow at that, but she says nothing to it, smacking the tip lightly against your mouth. "open."

despite your snapping, and much to your annoyance, your mouth immediately goes slack, falling open for her.

"tongue out, now."

you obey, sticking it out.

she snorts, shifting in her seat as she raises the dick to you. "such a little sub."

you roll your eyes at her words, jerking when she grabs your jaw, forcing you to face her. "keep those eyes on me."

your pussy clenches down on nothing. god, you need her. not that you'd ever admit it -- the last thing she needs is another ego stroke.

"show me how you'd lick this."

giving you so much control causes your confidence, however little you had of it, to waver. you hesitate before tentatively stroking the flat of your tongue along the head, maintaining eye contact with her the entire time. a tiny burst of pride ripples through you when you see her eyes widen imperceptibly. it's barely there, but you know her well enough to know it wouldn't have happened unless, at the very least, a small part of her was surprised, or maybe even impressed.

the reaction eggs you on, and you do it again, running your tongue along the entire length of the dildo, using the tip to trace along the bulging veins. when that's done, you lap at the head, the flat of your tongue quickly moving along it in steady movements.

when sevika speaks, her jaw is clenched, and the deep breath she takes shudders. "good."

"yeah?" the clear effect you're having on her is most definitely getting to your head, and it makes you desirous to push and prod at her more. "am I being good?" you end the question with a kiss right to the tip.

almost as though sevika is tethered to the toy, she swallows hard at the sight. "yeah," she says, her voice firm. "you're doing good."

the praise has your hips bucking again, and you internally curse at the leverage you've so clearly given her, another wicked smile curling at her lips.

her thigh resumes its actions from before, pumping up to meet your clothed core as her arm grips your waist tightly, keeping you anchored as she encourages you to rub yourself on her. your body acts before your mind can catch up, hips pressing down so that your clit receives some friction through the layers of fabric. you hate to admit it, but sevika's muscled thigh is a perfect helper.

"you can flick your tongue on the tip, too," she says, her voice a lot rougher than it was a few minutes back. you derive some pleasure from it, for even if your resolve is loosening and waning in wake of her touch, at least hers seems to be too.

"how?" you ask, your voice an embarrassing pitch from the desperation accompanying the word. but, as soon as it slips from you, your mind conjures up a single image, and it drives you to ask, "can you show me?"

"you kidding me?"

"no." you bat your eyes, hoping it'll get her more susceptible.

"I'm gonna need a bit more convincing than some pretty eyes."

oh, well, never mind. you deflate physically, though something tickles your stomach at knowing she finds your eyes pretty.

"oh, c'mon, please, sevi," you say, tugging on her arm with a jutted bottom lip.

after a few moments of casting you a deadpan stare, she sighs, tentatively turning the dildo around and raising the head to her mouth. voice warm, so velvety, she murmurs, "like this."

you hold your breath as the tip of her tongue pokes out, flicking along the head of the toy, flapping over it fast and hard. she may not realize it, but she's giving you a crystal clear shot of exactly how she'd look devouring your clit. you pocket the mental image, already knowing you'll pull it out the next time you get off.

when you follow suit, lapping at the tip, your tongue's point making little zig-zag wags, sevika's hand tightens on your hip, and with just one pull, you're back to riding her thigh. the pleasure coursing through your pussy, deep and aching from the pressure, is making you lost in sensation. your eyes flutter close as your hole clenches and your clit swells up, sevika's muscular thigh hard and lovely.

meanwhile, she's easing the toy into your throat, laughing when you gag all over it, spit gushing from your mouth. she's relentless in her practice, just coaxing you to move faster on her thigh as you struggle to accommodate the dildo, pathetic whines tumbling from your mouth everytime she pushes it in and your throat seizes with a choke. it leaves you more sloppy, more wet, more nasty than you were before, saliva trailing down your chin and getting your neck cool and sticky.

sevika's hand slides up your waist, just barely grazing the side of your breast on the way up, before brushing a thumb against the corner of your mouth, wiping away the residue. the touch seems wholly intimate compared to the ones that preceded, especially when she uses the digit to encourage your mouth to open and take the dildo in again. she seems to be more cautious of your limits now, easing it only halfway in. your eyes flutter shut, sucking nonsensically at it, losing yourself to the rhythm as you jut against her thigh faster.

sevika's eyebrows furrow in as you speed up, her breathing laboured, and you nearly giggle around the toy at the evident impact you're having on her. but, that's not all there is to it, for her expression only has a series of more hot, tempting mental images bursting through your mind. her panting like that when thrusting into you, her eyebrows scrunching in concentration like that while she lavishes attention all over your soaked cunt.

the thought has you bouncing faster, and sevika growls. actually fucking growls. her hand abandons your face, opting to grip your ass tightly and drag you harder against her. your bud is practically weeping with desire now, desperate to have its wants sated as you grind down harder. the weight of the toy on your tongue, the way your mind is numbed from the bodily chaos of sucking, thrusting, clutching -- it sends you rolling close to your orgasm, just barely teetering on the edge of it.

what finally sends you hurdling past it is how sevika bites her lip when she pulls you forward again, her thigh pumping up and down to meet your thrusts. she looks so concentrated on you, her dark eyes hooded and intense, and the pure want on her face makes you feel so desired, so aroused at the idea of how many ways you can get that expression on her face again. that, paired with another aggressive press from her thigh, and a tight suck on the dildo, sends your body crashing with an orgasm, walls spasming as your thighs go taut. you writhe in her arm, nearly tipping all the way back if it weren't for her catching you and holding you close. your chest presses flush to hers as you tremble like a leaf, clit sopping and stinging in sensitivity as she continues pushing against it.

you whine in protest, slightly lifting your hips, and she immediately takes the hint, slowing her movements to a stop. all the while, you keep sucking on the dildo, the shape of it in your mouth, the way it offers you something to latch onto and ground yourself with, practically addictive.

sevika watches you carefully for a few moments before gently tugging it out, a string of saliva hooked between the head of it and your bottom lip.

you moan in surprise when shr leans in and runs her tongue along your chin, curling it right at your bottom lip, swallowing down the saliva all for herself.

"you're such a mess," she mumbles, sucking languidly at your chin.

"it's not my fault," you grunt, voice raspy from all the noises you made. now that the heat of the moment has worn off, the searing burn of embarrassment begins to imprint itself on you. god, you were so loud, so desperate, so--

"you looked good."

you lick your lips, some of the nerves calming. "yeah?"

"don't let it get to your head."

"that's true, I already had my fair share of head for today."

her eyebrow raises at you in a distinct lack of amusement. "you're lucky you're cute."

your stomach sizzles with oh-so-stupid butterflies. god, why does she have this much of an impact on you? and it's so effortless on her end too, which makes it all the more frustrating for you.

"you think I'm cute?" you ask, forcing your tone to sound teasing so she doesn't realize just how earnest you are.

when she falls silent for a few moments, you tense up, wondering if she can tell how serious you are.

"who's the one leaking through my favourite pants right now?"

or maybe not. face twisted into a cringe, you grip her shoulders to stumble into a standing position, her hand still loosely hanging by your waist. "on that note, I think I'll go wash up."

her fingers dig with a bit more pressure into your skin, and to your shock, she says, voice gruff, "not just yet. just sit for now."

you let her tug you back into her lap, your arms immediately winding around her neck. "what for?"

she shrugs. "just comfortable." her eyes finally lift to you, and it's like you could plummet to the ground with how swept over her steady gaze makes you feel.

"was it not you who just made made that stupid pants comme--"

"do I need to get the dildo again?"

you burst into laughter, eyes crinkling as you shake your head at her. "is that gonna be your go-to whenever I piss you off now?"

"amongst other possibilities." her fingertips ghost your waist, and you shiver.

other possibilities? you know it's not the smartest thing to dwell on -- after all, she might've just said casually with no serious intent. but, sill, your stomach warms from something you had been trying your best to avoid this entire interaction.

hope.

but, when she touches your waist like that, and seems to struggle to remove her hand from you as you walk away, you can't resist the little part of you of that whispers, maybe it's warranted.

but, you don't want to get ahead of yourself. so, you keep it at just a maybe.

[greengoblinswifey]

Game of Fate—Hwang In-ho/Front Man x Fem!Reader

summary— After discovering that you, a girl he had a one night stand with entered the deadly games, the Front man disguised as a player 001, infiltrates the games under the guise of monitoring Gi-hun but his focus becomes protecting you at all costs. based on this request.

warnings— none! fluff undertones, slight angst, season 2 spoilers, usual squid game chaos, in-ho being protective and possessive(he has a heart) <3

In-ho sat in his private quarters, the screens in front of him displaying the death and desperation of the games. His attention drifted from one player to the next until his eyes fell on you. A bolt of recognition shot through him. It was you, his one night stand from years ago, someone who had left a mark on him in ways he hadn’t expected.

He remembered every detail about you, your wit, your boldness, and the way you made him feel alive, even if just for one night. It infuriated him to see other players whispering in your ear or lingering too long in your space. His possessiveness surprised even him. You had been the best fuck he ever had, and seeing you here now stirred something he couldn’t ignore.

That’s when he made a decision.

By the time you met “Young-il,” the newest player in the games, you couldn’t place why he seemed familiar. His face was shadowed by the chaos of your surroundings, and you had no time to dwell on it.

“You,” he said, approaching you during a moment of uneasy rest.

Your eyes narrowed. “Do I know you?”

“You could say that,” have a sly smile, “Call me Young-il.”

You tilted your head, trying to recall where you might have met him. There was something about him, his confidence, his presence, that struck something. Still, you shrugged it off. “Okay, Young-il. Hope you know what you’re doing here.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage.”

You didn’t realize he was watching your every move.

During one of the more grueling games, you faltered. The sound of gunfire rang out as players dropped like flies, and your heart pounded. You’d made a critical mistake, one that should have cost you your life.

You braced yourself for the inevitable, but nothing happened. The guards moved past you, their guns silent. You stood frozen, confused, but grateful.

In-ho, hidden behind the mask of a player, allowed himself the briefest sigh of relief. His influence was subtle but effective, you were still alive, and he’d made sure of it.

Later, as the remaining players rested, he approached you again.

“You were lucky out there,” he said, sitting down next to you.

“Mhmm. Don’t know how I pulled that off,” you said as you glanced at him, still shaken from the day’s events.

“You’ve got more lives than a cat.”

“Or someone’s watching over me,” you joked.

He smiled faintly, hiding how true your words were.

As the games continued, his protectiveness grew. When another player made a sly comment about your appearance, he was quick to cut in.

“Keep your eyes on the prize,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The player backed off, muttering under his breath, while you arched an eyebrow.

“You don’t need to fight my battles,” you said sassily.

“I wasn’t fighting,” he said as he leaned closer.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the faint smile tugging at your lips.

In-ho found himself conflicted. He hadn’t planned to step into the games, let alone risk his identity. But seeing you here, vulnerable yet determined, pulled at something deep within him. And when you finally cornered him one night, your wary gaze demanding answers, he knew he couldn’t stay in the shadows forever.

“You’re not just another player, are you?” you asked, your voice steady but your eyes searching his.

He hesitated, then smiled. “What do you think?”

“I think you’ve got secrets. But shit, me too. Let’s survive this first.”

“Deal,” he said.

He couldn’t stop himself from watching you, protecting you, and falling deeper into the very thing he tried to avoid. The very thing he said he wasn’t there for. Wasn’t he there to target Gi-hun?

Young-il seamlessly integrated himself into the group with Gi-hun and the rest, his calm demeanor and quick thinking making him reliable. Despite his apparent calmness, his sharp gaze constantly flicked to you. He positioned himself strategically, always close enough to step in if anything went wrong.

Gi-hun often exchanged glances with Jung-bae, silently questioning why Young-il seemed more concerned about you than the games themselves. But they never voiced their suspicions, after all, his protectiveness benefited the group.

Young-il wasn’t subtle about his priorities. When Thanos, one of the annoying and aggressive players, approached you with a smirk and a comment about how “a pretty thing like you shouldn’t be here,” Young-il’s jaw tightened.

“Walk away,” he said, his voice cold.

“Relax, man. Just talking—” Thanos chuckled nervously.

“I said, walk away.”

Before Thanos could respond, Young-il took a step forward, fists clenched, his eyes dark. Thanos scrambled back, muttering curses under his breath.

You crossed your arms and shot him a look. “I didn’t need you to step in. I could’ve handled that.”

“I wasn’t going to let him near you.”

When the lights went out, the dormitory turned into chaos. You barely managed to sleep, anxiety gnawing at you. But Young-il stayed awake, his body perched against the wall near your makeshift bed. His eyes, though heavy with exhaustion, remained trained on the room, scanning for any sign of danger.

At one point, you stirred, catching his silhouette in the dim light. “You’re not sleeping?”

“Not tired,” he lied, his voice soft.

“You should rest. I’m fine.”

“I’ll rest when this is over. Someone has to make sure you’re safe,” he said as he shook his head.

His words lingered in the air, and you turned away, confused by his constant concern.

When food rations arrived, Young-il always ensured you had enough, sometimes splitting his share without you noticing. If you hesitated to eat, he nudged the portion toward you.

“Eat,” he insisted once, placing his biscuit in your hand.

“I’m not a damsel in distress,” you said. “I don’t need you to babysit me.”

“I’m not babysitting,” he replied. “I’m keeping you alive.”

In the third game, players had to quickly form groups based on the number the organizers called, and with each failed attempt, the penalty was being shot to death. Fear ran high, and each moment felt like it could be your last.

You were with Young-il, trying to keep calm as the guards shouted the numbers. The merry go round platform spun as everyone scrambled to form groups and find a room, but it quickly turned chaotic. Someone tried to push past you, their eyes wild with desperation, and before you could react, Young-il was already stepping in.

His face was hard, his eyes cold as he grabbed the man by the collar, dragging him to the back of the room. The man’s protests were cut short as Young-il raised his hands and broke his neck, ending his life. The room fell silent for a moment before the countdown ended.

You froze, shock creeping into your body as you realized what had just happened. You hadn’t expected him to kill so easily, even after all the brutality you’d witnessed in the games. His gaze softened when he turned to you, seeing the fear in your eyes. He stepped closer, his hand resting on your shoulder.

“I know this is hard,” he whispered, his voice gentle compared to the violence he had just shown. “But you need to understand, this place doesn’t have mercy.” He looked down at you, his hand reaching up to cup your face, brushing away the few tears that had fallen. “It’s gonna be okay, I’m here.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words as he pulled you into his chest. The harsh reality of the games had taken root in you, but with him, you knew, even if just for a minute, you wouldn’t have to do it alone. His feelings for you were clear, he wanted you to survive, to make it out of this, and he was determined to ensure that you would.

During the dark night when the O Team launched their attack, chaos erupted. Players were dragged from their beds, screams echoing through the dormitory. When someone lunged toward you with a fork, Young-il stopped them in an instant, knocking them to the ground with a brutality that left you stunned.

He positioned himself between you and the attackers, his stance firm. “Stay behind me,” he barked, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“I can fight!” you shouted back, trying to step forward.

“Not tonight,” he said, shoving you back gently but firmly. “You’re staying behind me. That’s final.”

Despite your protests, he shielded you with everything he had, fighting off anyone who dared come near.

When the group decided to attack the guards and confront the ‘Front Man’, Young-il hesitated. His gaze flickered between you and Gi-hun, his usual resolve wavering.

“You’ll be okay,” he said finally, pressing a gun into your hand.

“I don’t even know how to use this,” you said, eyes widened.

“You don’t need to. Just point and shoot if you have to,” he said. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening. “Why are you doing all this?”

“Because you’re mine,” he said quietly, his words slipping out before he could stop them.

Your breath hitched, but before you could respond, he turned to follow Gi-hun. Over his shoulder, he added, “You’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you with more questions than answers and a determination to survive—not just for yourself, but for the man who had somehow made you his priority in this death game.

[doumadono]

Warnings: smut w/o plot, doggy style, creampie, blowjob, rough s*x

Summary: you and Bakugo went camping, and you couldn’t believe your new shorts were enough to turn the big guy on so quickly

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

As the golden hues of dusk began to settle over the campsite, the thrill of a shared adventure coursed through your body, amplified by the excitement that Katsuki, your usually so gruff boyfriend, had agreed to this escapade into the wild. 

It wasn't his idea of a perfect getaway, but the hint of adventure and the rugged trails appealed to his untamed spirit, and that was enough to tilt his decision.

Preparations for the trip unfolded over several days. You meticulously selected a new tent, sleeping bags, and all the essentials needed for survival in the embrace of nature. The excitement bubbled within you, and each item was a promise of the memories you were about to create together.

Upon arrival at the campground, a place chosen for its variety of trails, Bakugo’s eyes - those intense, crimson orbs - surveyed the land with a tactical gaze, as if plotting each step he would conquer on the morrow. 

You began setting up the tent, fumbling slightly with the steel profiles. "Kats, could you help me with these?" you asked, trying not to get distracted by his scrutinizing look.

With a gruff nod, Bakugo joined you, his hands adept and sure as he assisted with the tent. "Why don't you start on the fire?" he suggested, his tone brusque but not unkind. "Seems like something you can handle, babe."

You set about gathering dry wood, arranging stones in a careful circle to cradle the fledgling flames you would soon coax to life.

When Bakugo watched you light the fire with practiced ease, a rare smile broke across his face. "Well, well, look at you. I'm starting to think you're a pro at this," he remarked, the rough pad of his thumb brushing a smudge of dirt from your cheek as he approached you.

His compliment warmed you more than the fire, and soon you were searching through your backpack for marshmallows, a sweet treat to end the day. "Hungry?" you asked, glancing back at him.

Bakugo's eyes lingered on you, particularly drawn to the curve of your hips and ass accentuated by your new shorts. “I like your new shorts,” he commented casually, completely skipping the question you asked.

Your cheeks heated under his gaze, and you turned to face him fully. "Do you? They're just material shorts."

"Which hug your ass so nicely," he growled softly, his hand finding its way to your lower back and pulling you closer. 

You gasped, turning fully to face him, arms looping around his neck as he lifted you effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his hips for stability. "Did my shorts turn you on that much, babe?" you teased, feeling his breath against your ear.

His only response was a husky, affirmative grunt as he carried you towards the tent. 

Soon, you lay back on the sleeping bag, Bakugo hovering above, his lips tracing a path along your neck. His hands slipped under your t-shirt, discovering with a pleased murmur that you weren’t wearing anything underneath. "Aren't you being a naughty little shit today?" His voice was rough with arousal.

"You know I like it when you put me in my place," you murmured back, rolling your hips against his, your hands deftly working to remove his clothes.

Bakugo responded with equal fervor, his movements urgent as he shed his layers. 

Overwhelmed by a primal urge, you found yourself driven by raw desire, pushing him off yourself and kneeling between his spread thighs. Your tongue darted out, tracing fervent circles around the swollen tip of his penis, the taste of the faint bitterness of your boyfriend’s arousal causing you to moan in delight.

Katsuki began to guide the rhythm, his hips gently grinding forward. The motion coaxed your lips apart, accommodating him fully as he nudged against the welcoming gate of your throat. With each advance, you adjusted, your throat opening to invite him deeper, your initial gag reflex swiftly giving way to a consuming need to take him all in. The feel of his throbbing length, coupled with your swirling tongue, sent vibrations along his shaft, and Katsuki rolled his head back.

You yanked one leg around his one leg to improve your position and started grinding your slick pussy against his knee.

“Fuck, yeah,” the man growled. The sensation was nearly unbearable. Known for his fiery temperament and fierce control, here he was, surrendering to the pleasure you elicited with your little expert ministrations. His pace quickened. The sensation of sliding in and out of your snuggly throat, the slick, rhythmic tightness you provided, pushed him to the edge.

The build-up was intense, his body tightening, a crescendo of raw energy that demanded release. With a guttural cry, he reached the brink. Bakugo’s release was rich, a surge of warmth that he felt from the base of his spine to the tip of his cock while his creamy essence spilled forth in a rush of exhilarating release, filling your mouth and dripping from its corners to your naked neckline.

With a swift motion, he yanked your head off him by your hair and pushed you flat against the sleeping bag. He knelt behind you, spanked your ass a few times, and cupped your cheeks, spreading them to watch your gaping hole, slick with your juices. “Such a whore you are,” Bakugo mused, and aligned himself with your entrance, and the world fell away as he entered you with a single powerful thrust. His presence inside you was overwhelming, a perfect fit that stretched you deliciously.

Your breath caught in your throat, the sensation overwhelming. "Katsuki..." you gasped, your fingers digging into the sleeping bag.

He set a rhythm, each thrust deeper than the last, his groans mixing with your gasps. "I love fucking my sexy girl raw," he confessed, his voice barely above a growl as his hips pistoned in yours. His rock hard cock plunged deep into you with a relentless rhythm. 

You met each of his thrusts with an eager push back, your vaginal muscles clenching around his cock in a delicious squeeze that drew a low groan from his lips. Each movement you made was synchronized with his, a dance of desire that had you both teetering on the edge of ecstasy. You played with the limits of sensation, allowing the tip of his dick to nearly escape your snuggly pussy before sliding back down, pressing your ass against his abdomen tightly. Your hips gave a gentle, teasing twerk, enhancing the friction and intensifying the pleasure that thrummed through every nerve of his.

Each powerful thrust forced a sharp gasp from your lips, his rhythm unabating, as if he were carving his desire into your very being. His movements weren't just fervent - they were meticulously measured to break down every barrier you possessed. Each retreat was only a brief prelude to another overwhelming advance, sending ripples through you. The slick, warm precum trickled out of your abused, swollen pussy whenever he pushed back.

Each thrust stole the breath from your lungs, reducing your voice to ragged gasps and involuntary whimpers, as you were rendered pliant under his commanding touch, your body moving with his like a leaf caught in a storm.

“Fuck yeah, just like that, I’m gonna cream your sweet cunt, bitch,” Bakugo's voice was a husky growl, vibrating through the dense air of the tent. His hand landed with a resounding smack against your ass, the sting blooming across your skin.

His words were crude but thrilling, spoken with the certainty of a man on the brink of conquering, his every word as impactful as his movements, promising a culmination that would leave you both shattered.

When the climax overtook you, it was with a shout of his name, your world bursting into a kaleidoscope of sensation. Even as waves of pleasure overwhelmed you, a part of your mind remained acutely aware, sensing the potent surges of Katsuki's climax deep within your abused pussy. You discovered muscles you never knew you had - working on your boyfriend’s cock, pulsing, squeezing and milking him dry.

His muscles ripped and his thrusts became sloppy. Soon, Katsuki shuddered and expelled bolts of thick, warm semen, giving you one of the best creampies you had ever had. “Take all of my seed, bitch,” the man growled, massaging the meat of your ass. “Such a good, little whore.”

After he withdrew, he once again spread your ass, observing your mixed cums leak out of your reddened, swollen entrance. A satisfied, almost wicked grin spread across his face, reflecting a raw, triumphant pleasure.

Afterward, as you both lay catching your breath, Bakugo's arm wrapped protectively around you, his voice was tender. "I love you, Y/N."

"Love you too, Kats. I think I should wear these shorts more often if this is how you react."

Bakugo’s laugh was a sound you’d treasure forever. “Just wait until I get my hands on you again. You’re mine, Y/N, and I'll show you just how wild I can get.”

@pixelcafe-network

[snoopychris]

dilf!chris is struggling and needs younger!readers help

chris sighed as his four year old rejected his food again. he felt like he had made every possible meal by now. eggs, pancakes, waffles, he even went out of his way to call his mom for a french toast recipe. “owen, buddy. hey i need you to eat.” he frowns, ruffling the kids hair. “i’ve made you everything by now! i can’t make you much more… we don’t have much more. i’m gonna be eatin all this food for multiple meals.” he whispers. he knew that owen didn’t understand much, but he still tried. owen huffed and crossed his arms, shaking his head.

“cocoa puffs!” he whines, pouting his big brown eyes at his father. owen, otherwise a spitting image of chris, had his mothers eyes. it was the only feature he seemed to have of hers. chris sighs again as he nods in defeat, grabbing the cereal box from the top of the fridge. he serves a small portion in an equally small bowl for the boy, but groans when he’s opens the fridge and discovers he’s out of milk. that damn french toast. he glances outside to determine if it was worth going out with a toddler. when he sees the snow falling, he decides against it.

“sorry bud. guess you’ll have to eat it dry.” he mumbles, giving the boy an apologetic kiss on the head. owen frowns at the sight, pushing the cereal away too. chris’ frown grows and if anyone were to see the two boys pouting at that moment they’d know they were related. “owen.” he speaks sternly, his patience suddenly flying out the window into the storm. owen’s little lip trembles at his dad’s tone. chris never yells. he’s never mean. he swore to be everything his dad wasn’t. tears form in the poor boys eyes. he’s about to break down. chris tries his best to prevent the situation by pulling him into his arms, rubbing the back of his head. “hey… it’s okay. we’ll go buy some milk later and you can have that for lunch yeah?” he mumbles, running fingers through the boys hair. when owen begins to reply, he’s cut off by a knock on their door.

owen hops off his chair and begins running towards the door, his little feet going slower than he hopes. “mommy! daddy mommy’s here!” he yells. chris only frowns cause he knows that no, owen’s mom definitely isn’t there. as much as he wishes that she was on the other side, he knew that there was no way. he catches up to the boy and moves him aside gently.

“no bud it’s not mommy. move over so i can open the door yeah?” chris whispers, slowly opening the door. he’s shocked when you’re on the other side, a big tupperwear in your hands. “hey, kid. what are you doin here? it’s storming out there, don’t tell me you came all the way over here to return an old container of mine? unless you’re just using it as an excuse for something else which… just isn’t the best time right now.” he asks, moving aside to let you in. you shake your head as you walk in, pushing your hood off your head.

“no i um… actually made like… way too much chicken noodle soup last night. my dad told me to bring some over.” you smile, placing it on the table. you kneel down to be eye level with owen, noticing his messy hair. “y’just wake up or something? why’s that hair a mess?” you joke, glancing up towards chris. you smile at him, his hair messy just like his toddlers. owen giggles at your words, tumbling towards the container on the counter.

“daddy, soup?” he whispers, batting his eyes at his father. chris chuckles and nods, taking the container to the kitchen and serving the young boy some. a genuine smile runs across chris’ face when owen begins happily eating, enjoying every bite. chris sends you a look. you can’t tell what it’s for at first, but you understand when chris speaks.

“thank you… he hasn’t wanted to eat anything yet.” he whispers, looking over all the other food on his kitchen counter. “you hungry?” his smile grows when you nod and begin to dig into some of the food sitting out.

dividers by @issysh3ll !!

a/n: dilf!chris i adore you

taglist(reply or message to be added!): @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @sturniolotoast @mattsbrat @wastelandzella @le4hsblog @mattsd0llfac3 @st7rnioioss @isabellewhatt @sturnslutz @chrisscoraline @forgottxen @blahbel668 @ivyyyyyysposts @h0e4fictionalme-n @riasturns @sofieeeeex @littlebookworm803 @allylovescody @ribread03 @mattg1rl @cheesecakedolll @chrislova @ikyoudreamofme @ayesha-eroticaa @ivysturnss @slutformatt17

[olderthannetfic]

Hi OTNF and everyone,

I am finding that it's harder and harder and harder to get into anything - book, show, movie... most things seem, you know, to just not be doing it for me, be it fanfic or original stuff.

In part, I think, it's a general restlessness and that it's become harder to give anything enough time to get into the stories, the characters, the settings, the narrative voices... I guess you can call it attention deficit on my part, just a need for stories to deliver those sweet, sweet hits quickly, but they're not.

I'm not currently ficcing but I did for years (might again in the future, who knows), and it's made reading, specifically, harder. It's like I've become more aware of what goes on behind the scene, I guess? I feel like I can see the writer giving up on a sentence, skipping a scene because fuck this, trying hard to not repeat a word although it's the only one that fits, etc.

Or maybe it's just the *everything* around us in the world that is weighing on me too much? I could say it's adult life, but then again I have more free time than most (and boy do I need hours of doing nothing to survive the other hours), and no family/partner (all that would put even more pressure on me): what is wrong, to make everything so UGHHH?

I feel like I'm stuck in a rut with a brain moaning feed me, feeeed me, and whatever I try to give it, it spits everything out. (Yes, I've tried hobbies, and nothing sticks there either. I've never really found rewards or satisfaction there, so...)

Decades ago as a kid, I was a voracious reader, although studying literature took the pleasure of it away from me. It took time and discovering fanfic that brought me back to reading, but at the time the internet was starting to be a thing, too, and it can't have helped the attention thing. AFAIK I'm not ADHD but then again, I couldn't get a proper diagnosis (the therapists I saw were either dismissive or just about The Talking, which was pointless for me).

I just wonder how it all disappeared, you know? Sometimes I find something that catches my attention for a while - a book (but I read quite quickly when motivated), a fandom... but it's been a while now, and it's just so frustrating! When is it going to come back? Will it ever? *gulp*

I know that books were escapism when I was a child, and then fandom was escapism, but at the moment I find myself grabbing at air and my empty hands are mocking me. Give me my escapism baaaaack!

So, uh. Anyone here with me?

--

Yes.

I felt like that during part of lockdown. Anhedonia is common in those kinds of circumstances.

Getting your mojo back is certainly possible, but you may need to go see a professional about depression and have some chemical assistance (yes, even if you don't feel sad per se), or you may need to change your lifestyle to one that doesn't have the thing causing you to need eleventy billion hours of downtime.

Aside from serious interventions like that, you can consider a social media detox. Remove every source of doomscrolling and time wasting of that type. When the attention span is zero and nothing brings joy, the tiny and useless hits from finishing a game of solitaire or seeing one more instagram post become very attractive. This is a trap. It will suck what little energy and joy you have and make your muscles flabby for the work of getting into an in-depth book/hobby/experience.

I know the feeling of being able to see how the sausage is made, but... well... first, being in a better mental state will make that matter less, and second, reading prose that is more competent will make that less of an issue. A lot of mainstream tradpub genre fiction is not, in my opinion, very well written these days. Obviously, people are still enjoying it, and that's fine, but if you're noticing writers fumbling around, it might be time to check out some literary fiction or some other category known more for prose quality than anything else.

It's also important to have some structure and some things to look forward to. Even if you feel tired, overwhelmed, and busy, sometimes, the answer is to do more... But it must be things that are distinct and significant and that get you off of the couch, like going to one museum every weekend.

I saw some advice once about this kind of thing that phrased it as "One big adventure; one small adventure."

Every week, you should have those two things to look forward to that matter. Check out a new coffee shop. That could be the small one. Go to an event: a gallery opening, a concert, whatever.

Physical exercise and doing some things that aren't as verbal and conscious thought-involving is important too. Painting is a better hobby for zoning out than writing is. Taking long walks in nature is good for most people.

--

The kind of intense, obsessive love I had for reading as a child and that I sometimes have for fandom requires a lot of attention and some time. It's escapist, but that masks how much work it actually was. It didn't feel like work only because we were in training.

If you've filled your brain and your day up with a thousand petty annoyances or minor and useless attempts to feel something, you won't have the capacity for those deeper things.

Because you are already at a point that's equivalent to a bad sprained ankle, trying to get back to running right now won't work. You have to stay off of the ankle for a bit, then build your strength and stamina back up.

[voxslays]

MON CHÉRI

Alastor x Overlord Wife!Reader (from this request) In which, reader is bored at an overlord meeting and decides to tease her husband instead of paying attention.

Overlord meetings—a large meeting usually organized by Carmine (and sometimes Zestial) that brought the overlords of pride together to discuss their souls and the exterminations. And man did you hate them. Being overlords, both you and your husband Alastor had to attend the mandatory meetings yearly, so naturally when you discovered that there was another one taking place today, you couldn’t help but mentally groan.

Alastor, ever the dutiful husband, had informed you of the upcoming Overlord meeting earlier that morning. He had mentioned it with a hint of sarcastic sigh underneath his eternal smile, knowing full well how much you despised those gatherings. He seemed almost happy about your suffering.

“These meetings are the same every year.” You groan, putting your face in the palm of your hands. “Can’t we just miss one?” Alastor chuckles softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he wraps a clawed hand around your waist, pulling you close. “I’m afraid not, dearest. Besides, it’s not all terrible, my dear.” You roll your eyes and let out a small ‘hmph.’ as you cross your arms angrily. How were they not that bad? They were usually three to four hours of listening to Carmilla rant about how many souls you all collectively owned and the dangers of the exterminations. Things you already knew!

And all Alastor would do was sit there and watch you suffer…but not this time. You were already plotting your revenge as you put on your finest accessories and sunday best. If he was going to force you to sit through the horribly boring meeting—then you might as well force him to sit through your relentless teasing, right?

Alastor leans against the doorframe, arms crossed and amused smirk playing on his lips as he fixes his black bowtie. "Planning on outshining everyone at the meeting, are we, my doe?" You smirk. “I guess you could say that.” You say in a sing-songy tone. Alastor chuckles, his gaze never leaving yours as he straightens his tie and approaches you. He reaches out and gently turns your chin towards him, before offering his arm. "Shall we get going, my dear?" You gently wrap your arm around his, pushing your hair behind your ear. “We shall.”

And thats how you got here, sitting in your chair at the meeting, bored to death. You’re not the only one either. The Vees are all on their phones, Rosie is eating a meat sandwich with meat that looks suspiciously like a human hand, and Zestial is simply staring into space—Yet, Carmilla keeps going. Your husband has his usual smile stuck to his face—with a hint of a snide smirk, one that almost reminds you of the grinch. A devilish smirk that only made you want to enact your schemes sooner. You wanted to ruin him.

You slowly place your hand on an unsuspecting Alastor’s thigh, lightly rubbing it. Alastor keeps his eyes on Carmilla, but you can feel him lean into your touch slightly, as his eyes gently flicker to yours for what seems like less than a second. You can feel how the overlord tries to keep his composure, but his leg muscles tense under your touch. A slight smirk plays at his lips as he leans forward slightly to continue listening to Carmilla's monotone voice.

You slowly drag your hands further up his thigh, closer to his clothed cock. Alastor visibly tenses this time, his breaths becoming more and more shallow—and almost desperate? Alastor throat quietly, maintaining his usual smiling demeanor as his hands grip the armrests of the crimson office chair tighter. "Darling…" The radio demon whispers, his voice carrying a warning undertone. "We're…" He swallows hard. "In a meeting." His voice comes out raspier than intended under all the radio-static as he smacks your hand away.

You roll your eyes softly, continuing to watch Carmilla as your hands continue their upwards assault, finally arriving at his clothed erection. You gently rub as the demon next to you grips his cane in one hand, and the arm rest in another—his grasp is so tight his knuckles turn white. Alastor's face flushes a light shade of red, his breathing becoming more and more ragged with each passing second. He bites his lip hard to stifle a grunt—his eyes flickering to you with a mix of desire and a clear 'stop this' message. "Fuck.."

A bead of sweat slowly trickles down from his forehead, as Carmilla stops her speech about the souls you and the others may lose during the next extermination, and turns to Alastor, a small scowl on her face. “Is something wrong, Alastor?” She asks in a low tone, her voice just as raspy as usual. Alastor quickly composes himself, his face returning to its usual calm smiling expression as he meets Carmilla's gaze. "Nothing at all, Carmilla. Just a slight…discomfort." He says, his voice strained as he tries to hide the effect your subtle touches have on him.

Carmilla gives a small hum of acknowledgement in response. “Are you sure you’re fine, darling?” You ask, feigning a sweet tone of sympathy. Being the doting wife you are, how could to bare to see your darling husband suffer in the silence of a meeting? If only they knew. Alastor nods curtly, his eyes darting back to Carmine for a split second before he turns his attention back to you.

"I'm fine, ma chérie. Truly." He says, his voice a little sharper than intended as he tries to maintain his composure. “All right then.” You say, as sweet as pie but mentally smirking. Carmilla looks between you two, her gaze lingering on Alastor for a moment before she nods and continues speaking about the plans for the upcoming year. "As I was saying, we expect a significant increase in soul activity during the new year, so we'll need to adjust our patrols accordingly…” Carmilla drifts off.

For the remainder of the meeting, you tease Alastor with your fingers. At one point, you even give him a handjob. The demon had to put his hand over his mouth to silence his grunts of pleasure. But finally, after three and a half hours of a nonstop lecture from Carmilla, you were free to leave. The other overlords started filing out of the room—the Vees practically running—and you followed, your husband close behind.

Once outside, Alastor practically drags you to the nearest empty room—using his shadows to fight against your resistance—closing the door behind you. He spins you around to face the wall, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he presses his clothed erection against your core. "That was very naughty, darling. Teasing me under the table?." The overlord lets out a small chuckle, his wide smile never leaving his face. “I don’t know what you mean.” You feign innocence.

“Dressed like this?” Alastor gently rips your shirt off your body. "Liar." He hisses, his fingers digging into your hips possessively. He can still feel the phantom sensation of your fingers under the table, slowly driving him mad during Carmilla's lecture. "You think you can get away with torturing me like that, my precious doe?" You let out a small gasp. “Alastor-”

"Answer the question." He growls through his smile, his breath hot against your neck as he leans against your back, caging you in with his arms. "Was it on purpose?” The red demons eyes glare into yours, as the surrounding radio static grows louder. “Your outfit, the subtle leg movements, the tiny touches on my thigh under the table?" Your breathing grows shallow in anticipation. “Yes.” You breathe out. His breath catches in his throat at your admission, the red-hot need in his eyes growing more intense. "And why, may I ask, would you do something so…" His voice drops to a husky whisper. "So…" He grinds his hips against yours. "…provocative?"

“I don’t know.” You gasp. A deep chuckle escapes Alastor's lips, tinged with both amusement and arousal. "You don't know?" He whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. "Or perhaps you simply enjoy the thrill of teasing your husband?" You tense up, mentally deciding staying silent was the best course of action as you let out a small wanton moan. Alastor’s large gloved hands slowly slide up your sides, his touch gentle yet firm. “I will make sure you get back your teasing tenfold, dearest.” He mockingly coos, as he nips at your neck. “Hold on tight, ma chérie d'amour.” You were in for a long night—that’s for sure.

[thewizardingpost]

A Promise to Spend Forever Together, Not Apart

poly!marauders x fem!reader

note ⌇ lately, James, Sirius, and Remus have been acting distant and busier than usual, making you fear they might be planning to break up with you, only to later discover they’ve been working hard to save up for a ring, wanting instead to spend forever with you.

warnings ⌇word count  2.8k, after-hogwarts, established relationship, misunderstanding, hurt/comfort, marriage, reader experiences insecure thoughts, slight arguing, happy ending, love confessions 

It made sense that they were all so busy—James with his new responsibilities as an Auror, Sirius throwing himself into his work as a private investigator, and Remus taking on the weight of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. What didn’t make sense was the way things felt different between you, the quiet space that had started to settle between moments that used to feel so effortless.

The transition into such life was slow, like a broken clock–a few broken ticks forward just to take a few back. You’d think it’d move forward then just that next week something else would change. James still smiled at you, but it was the kind of smile that came after hours of paperwork, his eyes carrying the weight of exhaustion as he kissed you goodnight, only to disappear back into his work. 

Sirius, though still warm and affectionate, had started making more excuses, talking about "one more case" or "just a few more leads," his voice laced with fatigue, not quite as carefree as it used to be. Remus had become more withdrawn at times, his thoughts clearly pulled elsewhere, his usual calm replaced by the tension of balancing too many responsibilities. 

They were still lovely, still affectionate, but the spark of energy that had once flowed so easily between you all seemed dimmer now, and the distance was subtle but unmistakable. It really did just seem like everyone was just slumped with work at first. 

You convinced yourself it was nothing more than the weight of their new lives. Then there were the whispers—hushed conversations that trailed off the moment you entered the room, the sudden silence that would fall when you walked by. You’d caught James leaning over to Sirius once, his voice low, words you couldn’t quite make out but sounded far too private for your liking. Remus, too, seemed to slip into quick murmurs with the others, always before a sudden, sharp change in topic when you appeared, as if they hadn’t meant for you to hear it.

At first, you told yourself it was nothing. Maybe they were just tired, maybe stressed, but the more you thought about it, the more you couldn’t help but feel like they were holding something back from you. It was like they wanted to be together without you, to discuss things you weren’t supposed to know. 

Your heart twists at the thought, from where you lie beside them in bed, the rest of them asleep, their bodies warm against yours. You’re being ridiculous. Overthinking has always been your worst enemy; there’s really no reason to lose sleep over this. Despite knowing that, your eyes won’t shut—your mind infected by these thoughts that only continue to grow more dangerous. You listen to their even breathing, the soft rustle of sheets, the clicking of the clock on your nightstand. Eventually, your body has had enough—and sleep pulls you under, though it doesn’t feel quite as peaceful as it should.

It wears on you—the lack of sleep, the constant whirl of anxious thoughts that refuse to quiet. You don’t communicate any of this with them, afraid to voice the doubt that’s slowly eating away at you. What if they really have grown tired of you? What if all this distance, this quiet space between moments that used to be so easy, is their way of pulling away? Who wouldn’t be? Everyone grows weary eventually, especially when the season shifts, when the warmth of spring and summer fades into the chill of fall and winter.

 It feels like you’ve reached the point where the honeymoon period is over, and the cracks are starting to show. Maybe they don’t need you anymore—not like they did before when you all were just teens at Hogwarts. Maybe they’ve just grown comfortable in their own lives, with their own ambitions, and you’re the one left wondering where you fit in. 

You don’t say anything, because what if you’re wrong? What if your fears are just that—fears—and nothing more? So, you keep quiet, hoping the weight will somehow lift on its own, even as it grows heavier each day.

Just as they’ve begun to pull away from you, you’ve subconsciously begun to do the same. Maybe it’s a defense mechanism—guarding yourself against the thought that they’ve grown tired of you, that they’re silently slipping away. Perhaps it’s the quiet, nagging fear that you’re no longer needed, no longer wanted, that you’re just a chapter in their lives they’re ready to close. You’re not entirely sure which, but it’s probably a mix of both. Regardless, something shifts in you, and you begin to separate yourself, even if just a little. 

You start feeling uncomfortable in spaces you once found so familiar, like the small moments you used to share now feel like you’re standing in someone else’s life. You wonder if they notice, though you can’t bring yourself to ask. The distance between you, though subtle, seems to grow with each passing day, and the warmth you once felt when they were near starts to feel off. You don’t know if it’s them or if it’s you—or maybe it’s both—but the easy closeness you once had with them now feels like something you have to work at.

For instance, earlier that week, when James had caught you staring blankly at the fireplace instead of joining the conversation, he’d leaned in, gently asking, “Hey, love, you alright?” His voice was soft, concerned, but there was an edge to it, something almost hesitant, like he wasn’t sure whether to push or pull away. You’d shrugged, offering a quick smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “Yeah, just tired.”

Sirius had shot you a look from across the room, brow furrowed. “You sure, beautiful? You’ve been… off lately.” He had said it in the usual teasing tone, but there was no mischief in it this time—just a quiet concern that you couldn’t quite brush off. “I’m fine, Sirius,” you’d replied, forcing the words out, even though you felt anything but.

Even Remus, normally so calm, had paused mid-sentence during a conversation, his eyes lingering on you before he shifted the topic to something lighter, something easy. You had noticed it, the way he’d been treading carefully around you all week, and it stung more than you expected. It wasn’t that you wanted them to push, but the distance between you had become so thick, you were starting to wonder if you could ever cut through it. They were so caught up in their own concerns, their own exhaustion, their own busy lives, that they didn’t even seem to realize how their behavior was affecting you.

It’s a Thursday, some random day in March, when they seem to be waiting for you to arrive home from work, all of them silently preparing to talk. You can feel the tension in the air, the way the space between you all has shifted—lighter, almost expectant. You can tell they’ve been holding onto something, and suddenly, you realize it’s not just you who’s been carrying a weight. As you walk through the door, their eyes meet yours.

It’s a Thursday, some random day in March, when you walk through the door, and immediately, the tension is thick. Sirius stands up abruptly, his eyes narrowing, voice laced with frustration. “What, you gonna run off to your room again?” he says, his words sharp and cutting. “Avoid us some more? Pretend everything’s fine?” His tone is tight, like he's trying to keep it together, but it’s clear the hurt is creeping through. “You’ve been shutting us out for days, and now you're just gonna walk in here like nothing’s wrong?”

“Padfoot, stop,” Remus interjects, his voice calm but firm as he steps between you and Sirius. He looks at his friend with a mixture of warning and understanding, trying to reign in the tension that’s spiraling out of control.

Sirius exhales in frustration, his gaze flickering between you and James, who has been quietly watching. James finally steps forward, his expression serious but soft. “Love, can we talk?” he asks quietly, the weight of his words settling in. There’s a quiet heaviness to his tone, and for a split second, your heart sinks, your mind racing with the worst possibilities. You freeze, wondering if they’re finally going to tell you what you’ve been dreading.It was as if the ground beneath you had vanished, leaving you plummeting into a void where everything you thought you knew was slipping away. The tears came fast, blurring your vision, but something else started building within you—anxiety, frustration, a burning anger that mixed with the hurt, making everything sharper. You couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“God, why does this always happen?” you snapped, voice shaking, a bitter laugh escaping as you wiped at your eyes. “Everyone leaves eventually, right? What else did I expect? Maybe I should’ve seen it coming.” You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but it was no use. The words spilled out before you could stop them. “You’ve all been distant, quiet, barely even looking at me. What the hell is going on? Just say it already, whatever it is. I can’t—” You broke off, your voice faltering, before the anger took over again. “I can’t stand this anymore. It’s so obvious.”

Sirius stiffened, a flash of irritation crossing his face. “What the hell are you talking about?” His voice was sharp, eyebrows knitted in confusion. “You’re acting like we’ve been ignoring you on purpose. What do you want from us?”

Your hands shook at your sides, the anger now bubbling over the sadness. “I want you to stop acting like I’m not here,” you shot back, each word sharp and frantic, as if they were the only way you could hold yourself together. “I want you to stop pretending like I’m not a burden.”

Sirius’s face twisted, frustration taking over. “You think you’re a burden? You think we don’t care? Are you serious?”

You snapped at him, your voice rising even though your heart was breaking. “I don’t know what else to think! You all used to look at me like I mattered, but now… now it’s like I’m invisible to you! Like I’m just some fucking inconvenience.”

Remus, who had been standing quietly off to the side, finally stepped forward, his voice laced with confusion and concern. “What the hell are you talking about?” He looked between you and Sirius, trying to make sense of the mess unfolding. “We’ve been stressed, yes, but this… this isn’t what’s going on. We’re not pushing you away.”

Your breath hitched, your throat tightening as you tried to find the words. “No,” you choked out, trembling with the weight of it all. “You’re breaking up with me, aren’t you? Just say it. I can’t take this silence anymore. I can’t stand pretending that everything’s fine when it isn’t. Just say it and I’ll leave. I’ll just go.”

The words hung heavy in the air, suffocating the space between you all. There was a beat of stunned silence before everything shifted.

Sirius’s anger evaporated instantly, replaced with something that looked almost like regret. His face softened, and he reached out toward you, but paused, as though unsure how to approach. “We’re not breaking up with you,” he said, his voice far softer now, almost apologetic. “We’re not… God, we’re just trying to figure things out. We’ve been distracted with other stuff, but none of it’s about you.”

Remus’s gaze softened too, though there was still a trace of concern in his eyes. “We’re not trying to push you away, love. You have to know that.” He moved closer, a hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. “We’re not leaving you.”

James, who had been quiet until now, finally stepped up, his voice low but steady. “We’re not going anywhere,” he repeated, his eyes full of sincerity. “We’re just… we’re struggling too, and we don’t always know how to ask for what we need. But we need you. All of us.”

Your breath caught as you took in their words, the overwhelming fear and anger beginning to fade, replaced by a dull ache in your chest. You were trembling now, your tears mixing with relief, but the weight was still there.

James reached out, his movements slow and deliberate, cupping your face gently in his hand. His touch grounded you, his thumb brushing over your cheek, wiping away the tears that still fell. His eyes were soft, filled with a kind of sadness that made your heart ache. “You’re everything to us,” he said quietly, his voice steady but full of sincerity. “Nothing’s going to change that. We love you. Don’t ever think otherwise.”

You blinked at him, the words swirling in your mind but not quite sinking in. Slowly, you lifted your gaze, your eyes glossy, filled with so many unspoken fears. “Then why have you all been so distant?” Your voice was small, barely a whisper, but there was a rawness in it that you couldn’t hide. “Why have you been acting like... like I don’t matter anymore?”

James’s expression faltered for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. He wiped another tear from your cheek, his touch so tender it made your chest tighten. "Love," he began, the word gentle but heavy. "We’ve never meant for you to feel that way. We’ve just been... trying to give you something. We didn’t want to do anything that might make you feel neglected, I swear.”

At this, Remus, who had been standing quietly, stepped forward, his usual calm replaced with a soft urgency. His brow furrowed slightly, concern etched on his face. “We’ve all been working—well, all of us—trying to save up for something. We’ve been distant because we didn’t want to distract you with all the planning we’ve been doing behind the scenes.”

You frowned, trying to make sense of his words. “Planning?” Your voice cracked. “What... what are you talking about?”

Sirius, who had been standing a few steps behind the others, took a deep breath before he finally spoke. His voice, though usually teasing and full of confidence, was softer now, almost apologetic. He stepped forward, his gaze locking with yours. “We’re planning to marry you, love. We’ve been saving up for a ring.” His eyes softened as he met your gaze, his hand finding yours, holding it gently in his. “We don’t want you to think that we’ve stopped loving you, or that we’ve been pushing you away. We just wanted to do this right for you, for us.”

The words hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you just stood there, blinking at them in disbelief. A ring? Marriage? The confusion, the fear that had consumed you for weeks... suddenly, it all felt so small, so misplaced.

“Marry me?” you whispered, your voice trembling, your heart both racing and slowing in the same beat. You couldn’t make sense of it. How could you have thought they were pulling away?

Sirius, seeing your confusion, gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “We’ve been trying to save, love. Trying to figure out how to make it perfect, and how to make sure we’re doing it right. We didn’t want to ruin the surprise, didn’t want to make you feel like we were slipping away.”

You wiped at your face again, still shaking, the realization sinking in, piece by piece. “I thought…” you trailed off, your voice small, your chest still tight. “I thought you were going to leave me.”

James’s face softened, his eyes full of regret as he pulled you into his arms. “No, love, we’re never leaving you,” he murmured, holding you close. “We were just trying to make this moment everything you deserve. We’ve always been here. Always will be.”

Remus stepped in, his voice a comforting whisper against your ear. “We love you, and we want this to last forever. We want to show you that every day for the rest of our lives.”

"I love you all too, so incredibly much."

The fear and doubt, all those months of wondering if they'd drift away from you, melted away in an instant. They weren't leaving you—they were offering something far greater. A promise to spend forever together, not apart. As you lean into them, feeling their warmth, their love, your body finally relaxed, and the future, the one you had feared might be slipping away, is full of certainty.

[theannoyingurge]

Playing with the idea that none of the bg3 villains are fully honest with Durge. Everyone is hiding some piece of the puzzle and happy to abuse the amnesia situation to their advantage. 'Cept Kressa. She's psycho, but she's an honest psycho. In another life, we might have been friends.

Ketheric is the first, most obvious example of this. He doesn't even bother to inform the other Chosen you've reappeared. (Myrkul is the god of exhaustion, so this tracks.)

Balthazar also 100% recognizes you and also doesn't even bother. To him, your amnesia means no tedious reunions with annoying Bhaalspawn who are big mad that he stole their brother's name and rib bones.

The Emperor is sometimes overlooked when piecing together Durge's history, but he admits to knowing your past if you reject him in Act 3 (stating "I know everything about you" while threatening to turn you into a puppet like Duke Stelmane). Whether or not he's posturing, he should at least be aware of your past with Gortash, considering you helped kidnap him in the first place. For evidence, see Gortash's interrogation notes, which open with "When we captured you". (Sure, this could refer to Orin, but I simply do not see these two working as a highly functional team. More on this and the timeline below the cut.) Naturally, despite traveling together for months, The Emperor wouldn't want to fill any gaps in your memory that might cast doubt on his trustworthiness or help align you with his enemy.

The Absolute might be lying about respecting you/your plan and preferring you over your replacement. I am of two minds about this. If you were attacked immediately after crowning the brain, there should be no basis for a preferential relationship. In that case, the brain is just stroking your ego and need for approval. However, I have doubts about Durge being taken down during the initial raid.** I think some time must have passed after crowning the Absolute, giving it the chance to develop a working relationship with you that it lacked with the other Chosen, which caused everything to fall apart after you were tadpoled. This also buys us time to kidnap the Emperor and bring it under the Absolute's thrall as described in Gortash's interrogation notes.

**Some of Gortash's other notes claim Durge was lost during the first raid, but his journals are full of contradictions. He leaves the House of Hope out of his memoirs entirely. He seemingly retcons history to present himself in a more favorable light, which probably includes intentionally diminishing the work of his allies (or erasing the painful memory of his nearest and dearest). In any interpretation, the brain definitely hates Gortash the most, and that's good enough for me.

Orin and Gortash paint somewhat conflicting pictures of you pre-tadpole. The difference here might be genuine (the honest perspectives of a little sister vs a business partner or lover) or it could be a manipulative game of tug of war over your budding and impressionable self image.

Now, I like Durgetash - but I like every possible interpretation of these assholes, not just the mutually reciprocated and/or sexy ones. It's conceivable to me that Gortash may have discovered Durge's crush on him via the Prayer for Forgiveness and played up their history in Act 3 as a defensive measure. Maybe Gortash always knew of Durge's feelings and used them to his advantage (Orin outright tells you this, but again, nobody listens to Orin. Sorry sis).

It's also conceivable that he knew Durge was the first to be tadpoled, considering how close their pod was to his workbench. The brain was given orders to transform the party (that were resisted several times), so Gortash's surprise that Durge still lives makes sense, assuming he even knew Durge was with them (he doesn't seem to be checking the scrying eyes at all. What kind of loser tyrant ignores his own surveillance system? I digress). His general relief and preference for them over Orin is also still valid. (I imagine he feels something along the lines of Durge being the one who got away, you don't know what you've got until it's gone, etc etc. Cue hysterical bonding as the long lost love of his life waltzes into his coronation covered in blood to save him from their psychotic sister and the poorly housetrained Netherbrain they left him full custody of. Yes he wanted full custody, but still.)

Puppy eyes aside, Gortash is a blackhearted pragmatist (he will turn on Durge if they give him the stones) and progress is progress. The first True Soul was an incredible breakthrough, and the show must go on. So just imagine the bricks he's shitting in Act 3 if Durge comes back and remembers the Wrong Things from before the nautiloid. What if they want revenge on him? Nope, not good at all. Best to position himself as Durge's only friend and most trustworthy partner. Regardless of how well he treated them before, Durge was willing to piss off Bhaal to spare his life. That's an extremely useful vulnerability right now, because he's about to ask them to do it again!

Lastly, I have no proof, but I strongly suspect that Sceleritas is fibbing about Durge's past as well. Partly because the Slayer form is severely disappointing in-game and canonically excrutiatingly painful, despite Fel claiming you've always wanted it. It honestly sounds like a way to sell an unwanted used car back to it's amnesiac owner who failed to appreciate it before. Bhaal isn't a full deity any longer, so take what you're given (and you'd better damned well like it!) I also call bullshit on tossing a coin to a beggar being the "worst" crime Durge ever committed against Bhaal (*ahem* looking at you, Gortash). Some dialogue with the Oathbreaker Paladin suggests we've tried somewhat consistently to be good in the past, and Sceleritas has a vested interest in making Durge worse, not planting noble ideas in their freshly lobotomized murder-happy brain.

[peachii-nitenite]

Much Needed Support (sfw-suggestive content) Part 2

Synopsis: Now sick with a stress cold, Jayce and Viktor take you back to your dorm to rest. And also to unpack everything that happened in the lab. Upon reminiscing, the boys get an idea. 2.2k wordcount Content: reader with feminine pronouns, sexual tension, fluff, partial nudity, boys getting shy about said nudity, mutual pining, self-doubt, idiots in love, getting sick, friends to lovers, pervy daydreams, discussions on medical neglect, mentions of chronic pain, descriptions of chronic pain (slightly implied hand kink???), Jayce's corset kink lol

while i would consider this part PG-13, part 3 might end up being actual smut at this point...

The sun was low in the sky when you finally stirred awake, the late afternoon sun blazing through the windows of the lab. You found yourself curled up in the blanket your friends had so graciously lent you, with Jayce’s coat beneath your head as an impromptu pillow. You could still smell him on it: a clean smelling cologne, black coffee, and forge smoke.

It was some of the best sleep you’d had in weeks.

Still not enough to completely banish your fatigue, but enough to feel a bit of relief. The gentle sounds of quiet tinkering and clinking of delicate tools echoed from across the room.

“Still hard at work…” you mused sleepily.

Jayce perked up from his workbench once he noticed you stirring. Perhaps you were still half asleep, because the level of fondness in his eyes as he smiled over at you seemed a bit more than the norm. 

Or perhaps, you had simply dismissed it before.

He set down whatever he was tinkering on as strode over. You wanted to sit up, but the position you were in was so comfortable you could almost feel yourself going back to sleep.

“Shh…you can sleep a little longer” he murmured softly, gently stroking your upper back. You let out a sleepy hum, burrowing your face further into his jacket. You felt him pause for a moment, but paid it no mind.

“…mhm…what time ‘s it?” You mumble groggily, eyes struggling to stay open.

“Half past five, we’re gonna wrap up here soon, okay?”

You merely hummed once more, letting your eyes close again. It had been 5 hours…you briefly wondered if they’d been working nonstop this whole time. It was extremely likely.

When you open your eyes again, the lab is dark, and Viktor is the one gently nudging you awake, encouraging you to sit up. You felt warm this time, head a bit foggy and tight. Blearily, you rasp out his name, discovering your throat is sore.

A day cold. Great.

“It’s time to get up now, can you do that?”

The tenderness in his voice makes you want to melt, but all you do is attempt to comply. You groan as you sit up from your comfy spot, the ache slowly starting to settle back in. The moment you attempt to stand, you buckle, promptly sliding back onto the couch. In an instant, Jayce is at your side worriedly looking you over.

“Are you alright? Do you need me to carry you?”

In any other circumstance you’d have refused, but now feeling iller and achier by the moment since waking up, you agreed readily; allowing him to scoop you up into strong, warm arms. It was as if you weighed nothing at all to him; his hold on you was gentle, but secure. You promptly wrapped your arms around his neck and dozed back off, only perking up at the occasional softly spoken “you okay?” From Jayce. You could feel his voice rumble in his chest like the purr of a big cat, and something about it made you want to hide your face in the crook of his neck. Instead, you merely grumbled and nodded each time.

At some point, you felt Viktor’s cool hand against your forehead- sliding down to your cheek as you leaned into it. It felt so refreshing against your warm skin, the contrast evidence of your rising temperature. His brows furrowed, noticing the slight sheen of sweat accumulating on your skin.

“She’s feverish.” He murmured, softly as if not to disturb you further. Though he was stating the obvious, the observation did not go unheard. You grumbled a sleepy rebuttal that sounded vaguely like, “I’ll be fine”, which was promptly ignored.

You were going to be taken care of whether you liked it or not.

“Do you remember if she has a thermometer at her place?” Jayce asked, hoping that they wouldn’t have to make another stop on the way. Viktor shrugged, adjusting his grip on his cane. 

“We can worry about that later, getting her into a proper bed to rest is the main priority at the moment” Viktor assured him. You nodded against Jayce’s chest.

Bed. Bed sounded nice…

It felt like an eternity before you reached your dorm, but eventually the telltale sound of your keys in Viktor’s deft hands, swiftly getting the door open so Jayce could lie you down.

With you safely tucked into bed, a cold towel draped over your forehead; the two men opted to stick around, hanging out in your living room after scrounging around your medicine cabinet for anything that might help.

Just in case you needed them of course.

No other reason.

Definitely not because they needed time to unpack several different feelings that welled up in that lab.

Jayce definitely had it the worst at the moment.

There was relief, of course, that you had come to them for help and allowed them to examine you. And then there was the dawning realization that he was a much weaker man than he initially thought he was when it came to you. He was always eager to help, truly! But the actual task at hand proved far more difficult to focus on when he actually had you on that table in front of him, clearly flustered with your skirt hiked up, with his hand on your soft thigh. He had done so well at holding it together before then, getting lost in the math and the banter with Viktor. But once he noticed how you suddenly tensed up he was flung headfirst into the soft, warm reality of your skin beneath his palm.

He had had dreams exactly like this. Dreams that ended very differently, and much more messily.

And that’s why he had to pull away. He felt guilty. You had come for help, and there he was trying not to get hard over a bit of exposed skin.

And then the corset. The damned corset.

He felt no better than a dog, but watching you shed your sweater to reveal your makeshift brace made his blood rush to a very unfortunate place considering the situation. He thanked whatever gods were out there that you were facing away from him, so that you couldn’t see his shame as he struggled to maintain his composure.

How could you be so beautiful? The overhead light illuminating your topless form, as you ever so slightly leaned into his touch any time his hands were on you. Viktor had teased him before; about his…fondness for corsetry. But this was far beyond anything he had seen on old posters or the dirty magazines he used to hide under his bed. 

You were real, you were warm, and he could hear how your breath hitched oh so sweetly whenever he touched you. 

The first few times he thought he was imagining it, that he was finally losing his mind over something seemingly very small. But he kept hearing it, kept seeing it, kept feeling you shiver under his fingertips. 

And it was testing his limits.

And he knew he wasn’t the only one.

Viktor considered himself a rational man. A focused man.

But that ration and focus went straight out of the window once looked up at you, with your calf in his hand, to be greeted with a tiny glimpse of your underwear.

He had been so focused, so practical up until that point- all to be shattered by the reality of what he so dearly desired being literally right in front of his face.

He fiercely wanted to help, after all; he had been down the same road you were currently on. A path littered with pain, apprehension, and isolation. He knew all too well what a difficult situation you were in: which is why he was so disgusted with himself for being unable to shake the mental image of that sliver of fabric between your legs from his mind.

At the very least, he could distract himself with the note taking, the numbers, the measurements- all of the things that required him to take his eyes off of you. But unfortunately, his reprieve was short lived when the time came for you to take your corset off. He had to step in; considering that by the look on Jayce’s face, the poor man might have short-circuited before he could even touch the first lace.

The quiet was deafening, and he focused on keeping his breath even behind you as he got to work. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable after all; so the quicker he got it off of you, the quicker he’d be able to ignore how uncomfortable his pants suddenly felt. 

When he laid his hand on your back, basking in the soft expanse of your warm skin, he could admit that it was partially self-indulgent. Not yet wanting to pull away, wanting to pull you closer-

Wanting to bend you over the desk.

But still, he backed away, taking his place beside Jayce as you discarded both the corset and your flimsy undershirt. 

In that moment, they briefly locked eyes- one understanding the other completely.

Their friendship was a strong one, one that had developed into something a bit… more.

And It had come up before, of course it had. Jayce was terrible at keeping secrets, and Viktor didn’t feel the need to. So both of them quickly realized that they both harbored a rather severe crush for you. But their mutual attraction to you was more of an abstract concept before; a passing thought, a daydream, a sleep deprived rant, or an unhinged dream. Something that came up late at night when neither of them could sleep, or when one of them had had a bit too much to drink.

 How they would take you, where they would do it-

How they would share.

But it was never anything seemingly possible. Not nearly as possible as it felt now.

And then you turned around.

And the spiral continued- at a rapid, unrelenting pace.

Viktor had the good sense to look away first, but not before getting a good eyeful of your bare breasts. He was not a child. He had seen breasts before. But it was you- And that was all the difference. He had to discreetly pinch Jayce to get him to quickly follow suit.

Your comfort came first, above all else, despite his foolish yearning.

Jayce felt much the same, in spite of how awestruck he was at the sight of you. He would replay that moment in his mind over and over again, eyes screwed closed as he covered his face with his hand. Once they had forced you to nap, it was easier. But only slightly.

They made good progress on the plans for your updated braces, throwing themselves into the work to escape the torment of their own overactive imaginations. But every so often, they would get distracted by a soft groan or a sigh coming from your sleeping form on the couch.

It was all too easy to mistake it for something more sensual, with their minds so deep in the gutter.

Once you finally woke up, the trip to your dorm was a quiet one. And now with the two of them sitting alone in your living room, they could digest it all.

Both of them sat on your couch, Viktor’s legs draped over Jayce’s lap as he gave his math a once over. “...it's hardly fair” Jayce grumbled quietly, thumbing over a slender calf through the fabric of Viktor’s pants.

“..what?” Viktor looked up from his notes, with a quizzical expression

“How cute she is.” the larger man sighed, putting his face in his hands and groaning.

“Don't start this. Not now.” Viktor warned, rolling his eyes as he returned to writing. “Thinking about it will only make it worse, and mind you, I won’t be able to help you considering we are at her place.” he stated matter of factly.

“I know you think so too” he pouted, reminiscent of a scolded puppy. Viktor sighed.

“It doesn't matter if I also think so. It’s irrelevant at the moment.” Viktor stated plainly “Are here to look after her. Nothing more. Our feelings don't matter.”

They both knew he was lying.

Silence fell between the two men for a few seconds.

Viktor closed his notebook with a frustrated exhale, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“...I think she might be interested in us. Like we are in her.” Viktor admitted, a pensive whisper breaking the silence.

It was Jayce's turn to be surprised. “What?” 

“It’s merely a theory. One that requires more…observation.” There was something lurking beneath his clinical terminology. Something playful. Something that nearly made Jayce shiver with anticipation.

“Somehow, I feel like this ‘theory’ of yours is an excuse for us to make the first move.” Jayce chuckled lowly. 

“Eh, not quite.” he corrected, setting the notebook aside. “Ideally, we would hear it from her directly. Through simple questions, perhaps over coffee, or dinner-” Viktor elaborated. A gap toothed grin spread across Jayce’s face, letting his hand snake further up Viktor’s leg.

 “-So a date? You want us to take her on a date?!” Viktor smiled at Jayce’s enthusiasm, before promptly swatting away the hand that was getting dangerously close to his crotch. 

“We will wait until she is no longer ill. And I already told you- Hands to yourself, and let me continue.” 

Jayce pouted, opting to let his hand rest over Viktor’s ankle.

 “You're cruel, you know that?”

“As if you’d have me any other way. Now, do you want to listen or not?”

“I do…”

“Good. There is much to consider.”

—

Whew! This one took a lot outta me! We’ll be getting to the juicy bits next time!

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[mlembug]

there was a program on Windows 95/98/Me for this

the name of the program later changed to Madonote (窓の手, mado no te - window's hand, but also window's trick/technique/way/method) and also added support for Windows XP.

while looking this stuff up for the purpose of the post I discovered that not only the original website still exists, but also there was a 2010 update for Windows 7. Japanese only though. Since most of the stuff in the original program no longer makes sense in new Windows versions, the new version has a fraction of tabs of the original.

the 2004 version of the program itself works miserably on Windows 10... but the Keyboard Cleaner and Mouse Cleaner are separate programs that seem to run just fine¹ without even needing to change compatibility settings. Wow!

There's also a minor thing that the utility of this program is reduced because the old keyboards and mice were not hot-pluggable, and the new USB keyboards and mice are, so nowadays you can just disconnect them and connect them again. If you had tried that with the keyboards or mice of the time, you would see it would no longer work. Also Mouse Cleaner was a way more useful program with mechanical mice.

¹ - due to how Windows XP and later work, no program is capable of intercepting the Ctrl+Alt+Delete combination, so it's not exactly the same as on Windows 98

Every computer needs a cleaning keyboard mode where the keys are inactive while you wipe them down

[fixyourwritinghabits]

Editing Your Novel Part 2: The Plot Pass

Okay, it's finally time to edit. You've got all your materials sorted, it's time to dive right in. You want to start with the big edits first, aka the plot pass.

Now listen. You're going to want to linger and fix those little bits of grammar or dialogue, and I know it's so hard not to, but letting yourself get off-track might mean wasting hours on a scene you realize later you have to delete. Fix a few spelling errors, leave a note, and stay plot-focused.

Making Sense (Of the Plot)

In the plot pass, you're asking yourself some basic questions:

Do events follow a clear order? - When you're getting everything down on the page for the first time, scenes might get jumbled up or events might not have clear causes. Maybe you have a car crashing into the cafe pages before, but in a writing haze, you wrote your main characters having a casual conversation moments later. If the bad guy beats your heroes to treasure, is it clear how they got there? (Not everyone can be Yzma.)

Do circumstances feel contrived? If there are any problems that can be solved by your characters sitting down and talking to each other, it may be better to lean into their motivation for not speaking to each other, rather than coming up with bad romcom scenarios. If the plot can be resolved by the mcguffin the grandma had the whole time, it might be better to make finding that mcguffin part of the plot instead.

It doesn't have to be perfect, and you don't have to reinvent the wheel. If someone gets bitten by a werewolf, it's perfectly fine to have them turn into one at the worst possible moment. When it comes to contrived, you're looking for problems that seem easy to solve and look for more interesting ways to complicate them.

Are your character motivations consistent to the characters throughout the story? - They can change throughout the story, but character motivations do need to be linked to the actions they take. An out-of-nowhere betrayal is way more satisfying if you lay the groundwork for it ahead of time.

Take a moment to list out the motivations of the characters in a scene you're not quite sure of can help you figure how to fix it. Having an outline helps with this a lot!

Are you following an "if... then" format? - My brain doesn't work like this when I'm writing, because as a writer you know how A got to Z, and it seems (in your head) obvious how it happened. This is where my scene card outline come in handy, because I can look at my overview of what should happen and why, and then compare it to what actually happens in the scene. I've discovered so many threads I forgot to connect that way, like why a character had a certain device (I forgot to have him pick it up two scenes earlier), or adding a few simmering dialogue bits that make the big fight pay off much better.

Can you fix the "Because the Plot Demands It" scenes? - Look, sometimes your character needs to be in that haunted house to see that damn ghost, but your character isn't the type to set foot in such a place. It's really easy, especially in the first draft, to contrive a way in there (she took a wrong turn on her way to grandma's!), but retooling these scenes to connect them to the characters motivations and needs is the way to go. The main character doesn't want to go into that obviously cursed place, but her best friend hasn't shown up for school in three days and now she's crying for help from the second floor window. Your character's strong desire to be there for her friend is a much better way to get her into that house.

This is not always easy - it took me six fricken drafts to realize a critical part of a character's motivation was because his father blamed him for his mother's death - but it is going to be worth putting in the work to hammer down.

Do you have a solid timeline? - This might not seem as important, but it's super easy to accidentally fit two weeks worth of activities in three days. Make sure you have that on reference, even if you don't mention it in the book. Also make sure to gauge your distances if your characters are on a trip, because if you do accidentally say it takes two hours to drive from Seattle to Spokane instead of five, someone will dive down your throat for it. Not me. Just someone.

Okay, maybe me. Slow down, you maniacs.

Next post we'll dive into the structure pass. See you then!

[icarusredwings]

I present to you

Zoo au!

I literally whipped this up overnight!

In which A private zookeeper (Charles) has a mystery plague amongst his Hyenas that they call HydaeX because it seems to only affect Hyaenidae.

Upon discovering that rats can carry it, in a desperate attempt to save the remainder of his Hyenas and to find out what in the world caused this, hires local pest control specialist Erik and Logan, his ratting schnauzer.

"Why do you keep him around if he's infected? Shouldn't you put him down?" Erik asked.

"He laughs at my jokes." Charles admits fondly.

"I like your ears."

"Tch. Sure... I aint being your lunch so you can skip the sweet talk."

Wade laughs a little bit it chokes out like a whine. "No. Really. I think they're neat."

"Neat? ...mmh.. yeah alright..... I like your spots."

"M-mine?" He laughs again, circling around the dog but stopped, sitting as if embaressed.

"Thanks.. I used to cover them up with mud but... charlie dosnt like that."

"Why would you do that?" The dog asks, head tilting.

"Heyyy kittyyy~"

"I am NOT a kitty, bub."

"What ever you say, Tramp."

"Excuse me?"

"Nuthin' kitty."

Gore + more under

"If he's that aggressive, why do you let him free roam?" Erik asks, stepping back from the clearly infected hyena whose tail flicked and rubbed his neck against Charles' leg. A hand comes down to pet his head, gently, between the ears. "See that's the thing, he does no harm to humans. Just ...other animals."

"Maybe he's rabid."

"No, Ive gotten him checked for that. They cant seem to find anything wrong.. its just baffling since.. well..since every other animal infected has died by now.. poor guy probably dosn't have much time left."

The hyena laughs, a loud cackle.

"Ooh fancy. A collar. Owner scared you're gonna run off, Tramp?"

"Shut. Up. Wade."

Inspired by my stuffies Wade and Logan

Kind of based off the idea of putting Labs with cheetahs who get depression.

[quitealotofsodapop]

I also mentioned this before in DMs, but I want to point something out.

Wukong gave Macaque a peach popsicle after the fight with Azure. At this point into their relationship, they're only jsut to the point of beginning to reconcile, not quite trusting each other yet, but the first thing Wukong does is give Macaque a peach flavored treat. Is this because he's just extending an olive branch? Did he somehow get his hands on more immortal peaches and made modern treats out of them to make it so they last longer for his friend who needs to regularly invest them to manage his chronic sickness? A little bit of both?

Ref.

Wukong 100% planted a divine peach tree or two on FFM from whatever pits he had left over.

I *love* the idea that when Wukong realised his bestie-turned-rival was alive again, he started thinking of ways to add the Peaches of Immortality to modern day snacks/sweets so Mac wouldn't have to wait potentially months or even centuries for a new dose.

In the lore; the special Life-Extending Peach trees in the Celestial Realm supposedly only fruit every 3,000 years (300 celestial years?), and two other variants that take 6,000 (makes you light as air and youthful) and 9,000 (super boosted first variant) years respectively. This is why so much of the harvest is converted into Peach Wine that the immortals can sup on throughout the orchard's fallow season. And why the Peach Banquet is so important to the Queen Mother. There *is* a possibility that there are other sections of the royal orchard that were planted at different times to make the waits a little shorter tho. Irl peach trees take about 3-4 years to grow to fruiting sizes, so the Immortal Peaches could take a few hundred years to sprout anything on Earth - unless someone crossbred them with local peach trees to shorten the amount of time needed.

Also! Hilarious thing I discovered while looking up peaches; the specific trees Wukong is assigned to as an Peach Orchard Attendant are called "Pan Tao/Coiled Peaches" aka "Doughnut/Saturn Peaches"! My fave variant! Ironically in chinese mythos "Saturn" is an earthquake star god - A Stone/Earth Monkey to look after the Earth God's Peaches.

Wukong seems like the sort of guy to plan way ahead when it comes to his fave fruit. Even as a little monkey I could see him eating a Peach of Immortality and deciding to plant the pit or graft a few sticks onto a FFM tree so those on earth could enjoy them. The grafting (basically Frankenstein-ing a divine peach fruiting branch onto a normal peach tree) in particular would produce a tree with hybrid fruit!

The hybrid fruit could act like a "lower dosage" for Macaque's condition, and still treat him albeit requiring more frequent consumption.

And with Wukong's special interest in medicine and herbalism; why stop there?

He could use the little islands around the archipelago for breeding new variants of peaches and other prunus fruits he can graft on to. He'd be more interested in the medicinal/healing properties than the "makes you live for hundreds of years" part, so he could accidentally make an entirely new breed of Peach that massively boosts physical health/treat rare illnesses, but also be safe for anyone not wanting the burden of living so long.

In Wukong's mind, if he could no longer treat Macaque, then he would help treat he entire world to the medicinal properties once exclusive to the Celestials.

Note: in the events of the AU, Heaven def finds out. Mostly because Wukong accidentally info-dumps during his appointments/check-ins with Lao Tzu + Nezha finds one of the FFM orchards during his bodyguard duty of the monkeys.

Xiwangmu is willing to let the peach theft be bygones IF... Wukong gives her a sapling or two for her personal orchard. The variants he's managed to cultivate are super tasty after all, and Lao Tzu wants one for his own medicinal research.

(We ended up calling them Vitality Peaches in the dms. XD)

Wukong wouldn't stop at making wine from his peach orchard; he'd make jams, desserts, canned peaches, dehydrated jellies, dried peach crisps, persipan/marizpan from the kernels, vitamin gummies, and ofc Popsicles from the juices and pulp. The Brotherhood could have eaten entire dishes made with the stuff and not realised it!

So when he confirms that Macaque is back home for good? He busting out the modern treats. He remembers Macaque not caring for the texture of ripe peaches, so a nice cooling popsicle is an easy thing to pack for the beach party without making it obvious that Wukong wants Mac to start having some again.

If Macaque learns that the peach and plum products he's been eating are in fact medicinal, Wukong can easily bluff and say the shadow monkey's immune system is 1300 years out of date and that he'd rather not have Macaque get super-sick from a modern sniffle.

Macaque secretly thinks the concern is sweet, but he really doesn't like being tricked into taking medicine. Just ask him next time okay Peaches?

Macaque will eventually figure out his condition from some digging around and his own summons to the Underworld to review his Draft Scroll. And he will be pissed that Wukong didn't tell him. Then he will hug him.

I ended up on a peach rabbit-hole while writing this as you can see.

[artinventor]

Ok let’s break it down shall we:

In season 4-5 I could already see the shipping potential with the concept of an angel pulling a faithless man out of hell, and said angel who is a robotic soldier suddenly starts to feel emotion after interacting more and more with said man.

Insane foundation already but I did think of how castiel seemed to already have a fascination with humanity after I saw his chat with uriel at the park where he tells dean that not only does he think all humans are works of art but that he already has doubts in heaven and in his absent father. Dean IS the one to inspire him to ultimately rebel and discover free will but I could excuse it as mainly a personal journey that you could certainly just say is a budding friendship. Setting aside the fact that they would constantly look at each other for long moments in a really charged way (for castiel I could say he’s a cosmic being that is unfamiliar with social norms or human emotion so staring intensely can be a byproduct of that but I don’t have an excuse for dean’s reactions to it, you can tell he wants to be threatened but my guy looked enraptured, if not ignited by it)

It wasn’t until season 6 and the episode The Man Who Would Be King that the “oh they’re so gay” hit me.

You’re telling me that this angel has been around for eons, witnessed the creation of everything on earth and observed it’s many big events, but did not start to feel emotion or act out until he met dean?? And he champions dean’s mission of free will even when he doesn’t fully understand it himself when the other angels ask him. I can say this is still apart of his personal journey but at this point I cannot deny that dean is the one that really spearheaded it forward. He starts a whole war in heaven so that he can maintain dean’s mission and so that his sacrifice (his brother) was not for nothing. The fact that cas’ bad decisions were all based on the fact that he just didn’t want Dean to be involved because he was finally retired and at peace so he had no one else to turn to except crowley. He really cares about dean’s happiness THAT much, that is a mighty intense feeling to have for someone to me.

Then they emphasize the fact that dean is the one who feels the most betrayed by cas after struggling to even accept it in the first place. There’s a lot of intensity within the dialogue in the scene they confront him about it, and they’re sure to give me a close up on only dean to make sure I know how he feels about it. The eye contact in that scene really goes crazy because there was so much there on a deeper level, It was like you could see how they both realized the betrayal was breaking the trust between them but they were still wanting to hang on to that connection because it was something they both cherished, the way dean looked back before leaving? Insane.

That episode was the main hit for me, but it was largely mainly on castiel’s end. The main hit from dean’s end for me was when I saw the purgatory flashbacks in season 8.

In season 7 it seemed to me that dean was very effected by cas’ death and handled it in the classic dean winchester way of internalizing it all, but we get lines here and there about how bothered he is by it whenever his concerning behavior is somewhat addressed. Before Cas even had a chance to redeem himself after what he did, Dean seems to have already forgiven him, defending him once cas re-gains his lost memory and says he deserved to die. This showed me that the connection they had meant as much to dean as it did to cas.

And he really shows how much it means to him with how he fights tooth and nail to get cas out of purgatory. Cas literally disappeared once they got there, making it look like he abandoned dean, and then actively ran away from dean because he thought he belonged there. Yet dean was so insane that he hunted down cas’ location, caught up with him and dragged him to that portal. He literally had a way out that he chose to ignore until he found castiel, and was willing to die to get him out. Dean very desperately wants cas to be around when he gets out, he did not like how it felt when he previously wasn’t. Again, that is a mighty intense feeling to have for someone to me. Especially with how his memory literally changed what happened because he couldn’t handle that cas was left behind??

I do think a big part of this storyline is showing how dean thinks everything and everyone is his responsibility because of the way he was raised by his father as a hunter and protector. But we’ve seen this in dean since the beginning, while not fully addressed until now, it’s not new, so the fact that they used castiel to further show this side of him is very insane. Leaving Cas in purgatory would effect nobody on the outside except Dean, Dean made it his personal mission to get that angel out even after everything he had done, and that level of intensity was another major hit on the Destiel train for me. That and the gay ass reaction dean had when cas walked out of the bathroom when he got back from purgatory???

anyway, I’m only on episode 8 of season 8 rn so that’s all I’ve seen so far.

y’all I am so sorry for years I assumed that gay ship in supernatural was just a delusion that people overanalyzed and claimed queerbait for no reason cuz I’ve seen that happen a million times but now that I’m actually watching the show they really were gay as fuck LMAOOOO

[scariusaquarius]

rehab.

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Winter Soldier! Fem! Reader

Summary: While on a mission to find any more possible super soldiers that were a part of the Winter Soldier program, Steve and Bucky make a discovery in an abandoned HYDRA base that was cleared out a few years prior to their mission. They discover the Reader, a long-forgotten soldier that was still asleep within a functioning cryostasis pod; still awaiting orders. While Bucky isn't happy about it, he is put up to the challenge of helping to rehabilitate the soldier in Wakanda where she may be able to become a person again.

-

A/n: I couldn't help myself. I really think it would be cool to navigate Bucky's mind within a situation like this, so I really hope that this takes off honestly. I saw another writer on AO3 (@sunny_shadows, PLEASE check out their work, Shattered Under Midnight, it is fucking phenomenal) do story notes and explanations after the chapter, so I wanted to try that out as well! I am NOT fluent in Russian, so I did use google translate cause I couldn't find a good translator that I trusted. If anything is wrong, PLEASE let me know!! Also, I tried to list as many warnings as possible so you know what the story will contain as chapters are posted. Stay safe!

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Genre: Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers/Friends to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Drama, Dark Content Rated: Explicit Warning: Angst, Dark Content: Graphic Depictions of Sexual Assault, Blood and Gore, Mentions of Manipulation, Kidnapping, Canon-Typical Violence, Body Horror, Nonconsensual Body Modification/Scarring, Emotional and Physical Abuse, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts/Ideation, Graphic Depictions of Human Remains, Mentions of Sexual Coercion/Manipulation, Death, Misuse of Drugs/Forced Drugging, Self-Harm (Graphic Depictions and Mentions), Nightmares

-

Author: ScariusAquarius

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rehab masterlist.

Cryogenic frost was a completely different kind of frost. It was invasive; delving into every crack and crevice that it could; went into every orifice possible until you were cold from deep within. It hit you internally first; freezing your organs and bones first before it began to spread out to the muscles and tendons and fat of the human body.

It was uncomfortable, and when it was time to come out of the pod; the melting frost left behind such uncomfortable feelings that would have you desperately messing with your ears until the melted frost drained.

Don't even get Bucky started on the way his balls felt after.

It was an all-around uncomfortable feeling; disorienting and sickening that Bucky could recall some times when he would be taken out of cryo that he would throw up from the vertigo and aching that would come from deep within.

Even now, he could feel the tresses of nausea poking at his stomach as he stared up at the cryostasis pod that was steaming as it opened.

"You know, I think I vaguely remember telling you that I wasn't the only Winter Soldier...and I thought Zemo had killed the remaining Winter Soldier's back in Siberia."

His tone was annoyed, accusing, and the response that Bucky got back didn't make him feel any better about what his old-time friend was doing.

"Well, it seems Zemo was lying or he just wasn't aware that there were more soldier's within the program."

Steve then sighed as Bucky continued to stare at him, his brow furrowed deeply and making Steve return the look.

"Listen, with HYDRA being gone from these facilities, someone needs to rescue these people and rehabilitate them...just like we did with you."

Bucky's brow creased, and he was unrelenting as he turned to Steve, shaking his head.

"You don't understand. Without a handler, some of them can't be rehabilitated. I've trained these people, Steve, there's no getting through to them."

"We got through to you, didn't we? Besides, it wouldn't be right to leave these people in these pods like this."

Bucky's lips pursed and he spun around to face the cryostasis again, his metal arm whirring as the plates shifted; ready for a fight.

"That was different. You were my friend before everything...these people don't have anybody to bring them back."

Steve was quiet, concentrating on the pod. Slowly, a form began to show; boots, familiar leather pants, the same vest, and the same mask. Bucky couldn't help the tightening in his chest when he realized that the person in the pod wasn't just a Winter Soldier: they seemed to be a young woman; their hair becoming wet as the frost within it began to melt.

Beside the pod was a black book; most likely with notes about who the Soldier was and how to activate them, and Steve asked gently as the Soldier opened their eyes.

"Do we need to use the book?"

"I don't know."

Bucky was taken back by the brilliant (e/c) eyes that flicked to him for a moment before looking straight; and when the woman tried to take a step, they began to crumple to the ground. Steve jumped over the control center to catch them, giving Bucky a slightly miffed look as Bucky's feet stayed planted to the ground.

It was too familiar; too known, and Bucky was uncomfortable. He watched as Steve dragged the woman to a chair and sat her down, asking her.

"Hello, are you alright?"

She was unmoving and unblinking, staring straight ahead like a good soldier should and Bucky swallowed thickly, shaking his head. Steve asked her again, but Bucky shook his head a little more.

"She's not going to answer. You're not her handler."

"Okay, then how do we get through to her?"

Bucky pursed his lips, sighing heavily before he stood in front of the woman.

"укажите свое обозначение."

Her eyes came to life for a moment, glancing up at Bucky with a look that he knew all-too-well before she glanced back down; clenching her jaw.

"Зимний Солдат."

Bucky sighed deeply, rubbing his temples slightly, and Steve just observed, his blue eyes curious as he glanced between the two of them. Bucky then took the black book, noting the way the woman's shoulders seemed to square slightly; muscles in her neck tensing, and Bucky felt sick to his stomach. He handed it to Steve, muttering.

"There might be some information in here about her. If not, we'll look into the files we downloaded...if we have time."

Steve nodded, and Bucky turned to the woman again, asking.

"Что ты помнишь?"

"Невозможно завершить. Для выполнения инструкций необходимы дополнительные разъяснения."

Bucky frowned again, muttering to himself before he asked.

"Что ты помнишь перед тем, как тебя уложили спать?"

Her jaw clenched again, and this time, she seemed hesitant to answer. Her eyes flicked up to Bucky, and he could see the uncomfortable look she was giving him within her eyes. The person that was in there was trying to respond; trying to tell him, but the programming wasn't allowing her to answer. Fear flashed in her eyes from the inability to complete his request, and Bucky could feel his throat trying to close up.

HYDRA was getting better at their programming, it seemed.

"I'm not going to hurt you if you're unable to answer. We are not HYDRA."

Confusion flashed within her eyes though her expression never wavered, and Steve stepped forward.

"We're with the Avengers...do you know who we are?"

"Невозможно завершить. Требуется дополнительная аутентификация."

Steve turned to Bucky and suggested, crossing his arms slightly.

"This might be a job for Shuri. We should contact King T'Challa and set out for Wakanda as soon as possible."

Bucky pursed his lips before he turned to the woman, her fists clenched slightly.

"Следуй за мной, солдат. У меня есть для тебя миссия."

She stood up immediately, her eyes becoming dead again as the programming within her mind forced her to follow the commands of The Winter Soldier.

"Готов соблюдать."

Bucky hated it. He hated this feeling; of being the one on the opposite side of the glass; giving orders and handling. While Bucky had trained many super soldiers before, he wasn't ever a Handler like Brock Rumlow or Alexander Pierce. He was another instrument; another tool that just had higher privileges because of his compliance and performance record.

He had learned early on that resistance was futile and met with much harsher consequences.

No, the Winter Soldier's only purpose was to serve HYDRA and to further their cause. That was all. Anything that didn't involve a mission was null. He, among others like him, were only meant to serve the purpose of HYDRA and HYDRA alone.

But he hadn't activated her nor told her that he was her handler, so why was the soldier complying?

Was it possible that the woman had been frozen long enough that the programming was malfunctioning? Was she just assuming that Bucky was her handler because of his arm?

Or was it possible that she was faking it on pre-existing orders given before she was put under.

Bucky glanced over his shoulder at the soldier, the woman's eyes still just as dead-looking as they had been before; looking straight ahead. For a moment, however, her eyes flicked to his, and Bucky frowned before he turned to Steve, muttering.

"I have a bad feeling about this."

Steve's brow was furrowed, lips slightly pursed as he glanced over at Bucky, worry within his eyes.

"You having a bad feeling is never a great sign."

Bucky almost scoffed, but refrained from doing-so; elaborating on his thoughts about the situation instead.

"I never gave her any indication that I was her handler nor did I activate her. What if she has pre-existing orders?"

Steve frowned, his tone becoming more hushed as he walked a bit closer to Bucky.

"Are you saying that she's a threat?"

"Any Winter Soldier is a threat, but I don't know if she's an active threat or not is the problem. She's blankly following orders...either someone gave her a mission before she was put under or...it's possible she thinks that I am still...with HYDRA. We should be careful."

Steve glanced back behind him to look at the woman before glancing down at the black book within his hands. As the three of them walked to the quinjet, Steve instructed Bucky as he sat down at the controls.

"You go ahead and get her strapped in and call Shuri. I'm going to see if there's anything in here about who she is and where she came from."

Bucky nodded before he turned to the woman who was standing in the middle of the jet; rigid and unmoving. Bucky sighed slightly before instructing.

"Присаживайтесь."

Wordlessly, the soldier sat down, strapping herself into one of the seats, and Bucky took a long glance at her. To a normal; outside perspective, it would look as though she was completely still and robotic. It would seem as though she wasn't even breathing; a blank stare to the opposite wall and deathly still.

However, to a fellow soldier, Bucky could tell that there was something on the woman's mind. The soldier's fists were clenched as they rested upon the top of her thighs, eyebrow furrowed just slightly, and Bucky could tell that her feet were fidgeting inconspicuously.

If Bucky didn't know any better, he'd say that the woman seemed nervous.

But what about?

Bucky wasn't able to ponder the thought any longer. Instead, he simply just looked ahead and began to call Shuri, hoping that this wasn't going to end up in a fight.

~

STORY NOTES: In the beginning, Bucky is remembering what it was like to be put into a cryostasis pod. He recalls that it was uncomfortable and that the frost and ice seem to penetrate every orifice possible, which is extremely uncomfortable when being thawed.

Then, it is revealed that Bucky and Steve Rogers are on a mission to find any remaining super soldiers that were a part of the Winter Soldier program that weren't killed by Zemo, which Bucky is apprehensive about but Steve is adamant on doing.

The soldier within the cryostasis pod then awakens after being thawed, seeming to be completely blank. When Steve tries to make contact, the soldier does not respond, leaving Bucky to resort to acting as a Handler, finally getting responses out of the soldier.

While trying to ask the soldier for information, Bucky is unable to get anything useful from the woman. He makes an educated guess that HYDRA had further adapted their programming, making it difficult to make the soldier talk without having to completely activate them.

Steve decides to take a trip to Wakanda to see Shuri and T'Challa so they can rehabilitate the soldier just as they did with Bucky, but Bucky begins to think that the soldier is a threat due to their compliance despite Bucky not activating them nor introducing himself as their handler.

Bucky makes a final observation, noting that the woman seems nervous, though Bucky is unable to figure out what about. He speculates further that there could be foul play, and is unhappy at the possibility of a fight. End Scene.

TRANSLATIONS:

укажите свое обозначение - Indicate/State your Designation

Зимний Солдат - Winter Soldier

Что ты помнишь - What do you remember?

Невозможно завершить. Для выполнения инструкций необходимы дополнительные разъяснения - Unable to complete. Further clarification is required to complete the instructions.

Что ты помнишь перед тем, как тебя уложили спать - What do you remember before you were put to bed/sleep?

Невозможно завершить. Требуется дополнительная аутентификация - Unable to comply. Additional authentication required.

Следуй за мной, солдат. У меня есть для тебя миссия - Follow me, soldier. I have a mission for you.

Готов соблюдать - Ready to comply.

Присаживайтесь - Have a seat.