#they have a turning mechanism except it was stuck in two of them

[witchslove]

Study Sessions

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: You and Wanda have been best friends since your first semester of college. When you have to take a physics class, Wanda is more than happy to help you study, but your late night study sessions blur the lines between friendship and romance.

Warnings: 18+ nsfw content; bottom!wanda maximoff, top!reader, fingering (w receiving), oral (w receiving), wanda’s first time with a woman, slight angst, jealousy

A/N: Save me college Wanda, college Wanda save me…

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The sun beamed down on you as you walked across campus, sweat forming on the back of your neck from the heat.

You had just finished your first day of classes for the semester and you were feeling confident about all of them, except for one. Even as an English major, you were stuck taking a physics class to complete some general requirements for graduation.

You could handle the most complex forms of literature on a bad day, but when it came to math and science, you found yourself feeling a little lost.

The good news was that your roommate and best friend, Wanda Maximoff, was a physics major. Wanda was everything you wanted to be - naturally smart, driven, focused, and incredibly organized.

She was also the most beautiful person you had ever laid eyes on, long brown hair that was somehow even softer than it looked, stunning green eyes that sometimes made you nervous under her gaze, and the perfect body - since you shared a room, you’d seen her undress before, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to look like her or fuck her brains out.

You constantly pushed down any desires you felt towards Wanda since she was your best friend, telling yourself your friendship was far too valuable to risk just because you occasionally had confusing feelings towards her.

The two of you had known each other since you both started college. You were roommates your first semester and instantly became close, despite your contrasting personalities. Where you were more relaxed and laid back when it came to your studies, Wanda was very serious. It made sense though, her major was far more demanding than yours was and she always worked hard to maintain her perfect GPA.

You’d always admired Wanda and found that you could no longer envision your life without her by your side. She was easily the best friend you’d ever had; she was supportive when you needed it and stayed on top of you when you felt like slacking. Wanda was extremely likable and you felt honored that she considered you her closest friend as well.

When you finally made it back to your dorm, you sighed as you felt the cool air inside. You headed to your room and unlocked the door, stepping through the threshold to the familiar sight of Wanda studying. You smiled to yourself; it was only the first day of classes and she was already trying to learn as much as she could.

“Hey,” you greeted, setting your things down and plopping into your bed, taking a moment to relax.

“Hi,” Wanda said back, turning in her chair to face you. “How was your first day?”

“It was good,” you responded, looking over at her from your bed. “My professors seem cool, most of my classes don’t seem too hard. What about you?”

“Not too bad, although my nuclear and particle physics class might kick my ass this semester,” Wanda chuckled.

“Is that what you’re over there studying already?” You teased her, gesturing to the open books on her desk.

“Yeah, it’s actually pretty interesting. I want to get ahead this semester so I have more time to hang out with you and do fun stuff,” she explained.

“That’s good. I’ll remind you that you said that the next time you’re trying not to go to a party with me,” you joked, bringing a smile to her face. “Or maybe you could use some of that extra time to help me out, I’m stuck taking a physics class this semester and I have no idea what’s going on.”

“Oh, which one?” Wanda asked, her interest piqued.

“Classical mechanics I think,” you said, feeling slightly embarrassed at needing help with one of the most basic physics courses.

“That’s a fun one,” she commented. “I’d be glad to help detka.”

That was another thing about Wanda. She often called you pet names, in a friendly way of course, but it made your heart flutter every time she did it.

“Okay cool, thank you. Maybe we can have a study session at the library tomorrow if you’re not too busy with classes?” you asked, knowing you only had one class to worry about in the morning.

Wanda turned towards her desk to flip through a binder, checking her schedule. “I have a morning class and one in the afternoon, could we do 7pm?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you said, biting back a smile at the thought of Wanda tutoring you.

“Perfect! I’ll meet you there tomorrow.” She turned back to face you again, her expression becoming serious as she pointed a finger at you. “Ten minutes of bed-rotting time and then I want to see you reading or writing something,” she demanded, trying to motivate you to get ahead like she was.

“Okay mom,” you retorted, rolling your eyes playfully.

She went back to studying, taking notes as she flipped the pages of her nuclear physics textbook. You laid in bed for a few more moments, scrolling through Instagram reels, before getting up to join her in studying.

The next day, you attended your morning class and then grabbed a latte at the coffee shop on campus, deciding to review your notes as you sipped your drink, knowing it’s what Wanda would want you to do.

The rest of the day went by slowly but you managed to get some work done. You were eager for your study session with Wanda, excited to spend some time with her after the two of you had gone home for the summer and had barely seen each other.

You arrived at the library early, finding it to be relatively empty at this time of night. A few students were at the computers, but overall the library was quite vacant. You picked a spot in the corner, away from others, where you felt you’d have the most privacy and the least distractions.

You waited for Wanda, who came in a few minutes later, looking around the shelves before she spotted you.

“Hey,” she greeted as she sat down beside you, her thigh touching yours. She reached into her bag to pull out different colored pens, highlighters, sticky notes, and some of her old physics notes from when she took classical mechanics.

“Hi,” you breathed out, forcing yourself to ignore the feeling of her so close. “Someone came prepared,” you jested, making her laugh softly as she finished setting up.

“I’m here to help you, aren’t I? I have to make sure you have everything you need,” she quipped with a smile and the most adorable nose scrunch.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight; you didn’t remember it being this hard to be around Wanda, but everything she was doing was driving you crazy in the best way. You watched her for a moment as she placed everything on the table in an organized fashion, biting her lip with a focused expression on her face. You wanted nothing more than to pull her bottom lip from between her teeth and capture it with your own.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” She broke the silence, bringing you back to reality. You blushed at what you were just thinking about, nodding in response.

“Sounds good,” you managed, opening your textbook to the first chapter.

Wanda reached over to move the textbook so it was centered between the two of you and as she did so, your fingers brushed against each other. You almost shivered at the act, the soft touch feeling like too much but not enough at the same time. Wanda didn’t seem affected as she began to dig into the material, asking you what the professor had already gone over.

She somehow kept finding ways to touch you, whether it was a hand on your shoulder or her fingers grazing your own over the textbook as she pointed to pictures and paragraphs. You could barely answer her questions, the close proximity and subtle touches making you yearn for her.

Unbeknownst to you, Wanda was just as affected; she was just better at hiding it. She couldn’t understand why but she kept intentionally finding ways to be closer to you. She didn’t notice the effect it was having on you, too preoccupied with steadying her own heart rate every time she felt your skin against hers.

She’d always thought you were beautiful, but this was something else. She didn’t know why she was struggling to keep her composure around you now. She’d always found comfort in your presence - you often studied together, came home drunk from parties and cuddled in the same bed, or watched movies together laying side by side, the computer across both of your laps.

Something about this study session felt weirdly intimate. She was enjoying teaching you about her passion, physics and science, and maybe that was part of it. She chalked it down to that and tried to push her feelings aside, focusing on helping you with your studies and being a good friend.

A friend - that’s what she was to you and that’s how it would stay. She couldn’t complicate something so perfect with these conflicting feelings of wanting more from you.

Despite both of you trying hard to ignore how you felt, the air was still charged, the tension still there. It wasn’t just this time either - it became a regular occurrence.

Wanda helped you with physics at least once a week and her eager guidance actually helped you grasp the subject more. You found yourself falling in love with the way her eyes would light up when you brought up a subject she knew a lot about. She was so excited every time you understood it too, feeling both accomplished that she could help and proud that you were getting it.

She found it adorable when you didn’t understand something and she loved the way your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to think harder about it. The two of you became closer than ever, which you didn’t think was possible. You and Wanda were already attached at the hip when she wasn’t deep in her studies and you never expected to feel like you were getting to know her better just from a few study sessions, but you loved it.

You found yourself wanting her, despite trying to repress those feelings. Sometimes when you got an answer right and Wanda beamed with excitement, you only wanted to break the distance and kiss her, to feel her lips against your own and wrap your arms around her neck as she kissed you back. You couldn’t help but look at her lips as she spoke, imagining how soft they’d be against your own. Whenever she bit her lip, you wished she was biting yours.

The thoughts weren’t always so innocent though. Yes, you wondered how she would taste as you kissed her, but you also wondered how she would taste with your head between her legs. You wanted to thank her for her help by making her cum on your fingers right there in the library, where anyone could see.

You tried to shake those kinds of thoughts, feeling guilty for thinking of your best friend that way, especially when she was being so kind as to tutor you on the subject you struggled with. She didn’t have a lot of free time to begin with, her workload keeping her fairly busy, and here she was making sure you could pass your physics class with flying colors.

And here you were, too distracted by thoughts of fucking her to pay attention to Newton’s law of attraction. The only law of attraction you could think about was how you felt about Wanda.

Wanda was in the same boat, cursing herself for threatening to ruin your friendship with this newfound attraction towards you. She wondered if her seemingly innocent thoughts about you in the past were actually just the seeds of this desire for you, only now flourishing the more time you spent alone with her.

Whenever she felt your gaze on her, it made her feel hot all over. She tried to ignore it and focus on the material, reminding herself that you just needed help with physics. That’s what she was there for, nothing else.

But sometimes, she wished it was more. When you weren’t looking, she’d rake her eyes over you, taking in the sight of you beside her, feeling her heart stop in her chest when you’d catch her staring. You convinced yourself she was just watching you to make sure you were immersed in the subject, when in reality she was most definitely checking you out.

Still, her eyes on you made you nervous and you brought your attention back to the textbook in front of you solely to rid your cheeks of the blush she caused.

One particular night in the library nearly changed everything.

You read Wanda’s notes about motion and energy, scanning the pages to better understand the concepts. While you admired her neat handwriting and the cute ways she annotated her own notes, Wanda admired the concentrated look on your face.

She was so lost in watching you that she barely noticed when you spoke.

“So special relativity is the exception to Newton’s laws when objects move at high speeds and general relativity is when objects are too massive, right?” You asked, looking up at her for confirmation as she stared at you intently, a slight smirk coming across your features when you caught her.

“Yes,” she choked out, looking away for a second to regain her composure. “And quantum mechanics?”

“That’s the exception when objects are very small,” you responded, feeling confident in your answer.

“Good job,” Wanda praised, making your heart flutter. “You’re really getting it.” She looked at you with nothing but pride and approval, smiling softly.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, feeling hot under her gaze. Despite how nervous she was making you, you didn’t break eye contact.

The two of you sat like that for a moment, just looking at each other, until Wanda’s eyes flicked down to your lips for a brief second. You almost thought you imagined it at first, but then she did it again. You mimicked her actions, looking down at those lips you wanted so desperately to capture with your own.

You swore Wanda was leaning in and you couldn’t stop yourself from doing the same. Your faces were mere inches apart now and you could feel Wanda’s warm breath against your lips.

Before you could close the gap, the door to the library opened and startled both of you. You turned to look at who came in, silently cursing them for ruining the moment as Wanda pulled back to look too.

There was an awkward silence before Wanda cleared her throat. “So now that you know what quantum mechanics is, let’s move on to the definitions of atomic and subatomic,” she said, her voice nearly trembling as she tried to recover from the heated moment you shared.

“Right,” you responded, turning your attention back to her notes, trying to calm your racing heart.

You and Wanda had almost kissed, everything suddenly felt very real. But instead of addressing what just happened, Wanda moved on, bringing the conversation back to the task at hand.

You played along, focusing on looking for the definitions she mentioned, finding it difficult to learn anything new when you had just come so close to kissing the brunette.

The rest of the study session felt tense and slightly awkward, but you made it through the last of the material without any hitches - or almost-kisses. Eventually, the two of you packed up your things and headed out, discussing projects and exams on the way back to your dorm.

A few days later, you were watching a movie in bed when Wanda came in, smiling brightly with a skip in her step.

“What’s got you so giddy today?” You asked, pausing your movie.

“Do you remember Vision, from my data analysis class?”

“Yeah,” you answered, nodding.

“He just asked me out,” she said excitedly. “I said yes of course. We’re going out on Friday, he’s taking me to dinner.”

Her words felt like a punch to the gut. You forced a smile, trying to be happy for her when all you could focus on was the feeling of your heart breaking.

“That’s great, Wands,” you muttered. “I’m happy for you.” The words felt fake coming out of your mouth but you kept up the act and tried to ignore the jealousy bubbling within you.

“He’s so sweet, he even used a silly joke about data to ask me out,” she went on, continuing to tell you about her day as you listened, your mind elsewhere the entire time.

All you could think about was the kiss you almost shared, how it meant everything to you and nothing to Wanda. Obviously she wasn’t interested in you like that and you wondered if you merely imagined the intimacy of the library study sessions. You had to come to terms with the fact that the tension you felt in the air when you were with Wanda lately was all in your head.

You thought when you almost kissed that maybe, just maybe, she felt the same way. Now, you realized you were horribly wrong, the harsh reality hitting you like a truck. Wanda was just being nice helping you study and you let yourself believe that it was more. You felt incredibly stupid, wishing the ground would swallow you whole so you didn’t have to hear any more about the date Vision was taking Wanda on.

What you didn’t know was that Wanda only said yes to Vision out of pure denial. She was having a hard time coping with her feelings for you and this seemed like a good way to move on, to try to save your friendship from her own selfish desires. She was excited for her date, hoping that it would take her mind off of you.

Maybe Vision would be the perfect guy for her and she could fall for him instead. He was handsome, slightly dorky, and very chivalrous, always holding the door open for her when they showed up to class at the same time. He was planning on taking her to a lovely restaurant near campus and Wanda was trying her best to look forward to it.

Friday rolled around and Wanda went on her date, which couldn’t have gone better. Vision greeted her at her dorm with flowers, walking her to his car and taking them to the restaurant. He listened intently while Wanda talked about herself and her passions, seeming genuinely interested. He paid at the end of dinner, leaving a generous tip for their server which Wanda found attractive. He asked politely to kiss her when he dropped her back off and didn’t pressure her for more.

Despite how wonderful the date was, Wanda was frustrated. She didn’t feel a spark with him like she did with you. She didn’t feel anything when they kissed, not even when he cupped her cheek in his hand as he moved his lips softly against her own.

Wanda felt more butterflies in her stomach from your hand brushing against hers during a study session than she did from kissing Vision at the end of their date and she hated it.

She figured it would take some time to get over you and continued to see Vision, going on a couple dates a week with him when she had the free time. She tried to continue your study sessions as well, but you told her you didn’t need the extra help and to just have fun with Vision. She felt slightly hurt - she didn’t like the idea of you not needing her anymore - but she was also proud of you for taking on the subject on your own.

You, on the other hand, were avoiding Wanda at all costs. You only came back to the dorm when she was in class or when she was already asleep, staying out late hanging around college parties that weren’t nearly as fun without your best friend.

You were in far too deep and came to the conclusion that you needed to move on in order to stay friends with Wanda. So you kept your distance, hoping that not seeing her or hearing from her would help you lose feelings for her.

You also couldn’t bear to see her with Vision; the sight of them together on campus made you feel sick to your stomach. You didn’t want to hear about their dates either, knowing it would destroy you. You couldn’t possibly listen to Wanda describe how he got to take her out and kiss her and hold her when it should’ve been you, not without revealing your true feelings to her.

While you spent your days hiding from the brunette, Wanda was confused as to why you were avoiding her, not understanding that it was an act of self-preservation.

She had so many things she was excited to tell you about - being the top student in her relativity class, getting a perfect score on her nuclear and particle physics exam, and of course, her budding relationship with Vision. The opportunity to tell you never came, as you were gone until she went to sleep and out of the dorm before she woke up.

She missed your study sessions, even if not having those intimate moments with you was for the best. She missed your movie nights, your conversations, your presence in general - she missed everything about you. It frustrated her to no end that she could never seem to see you anymore and she wondered how you could possibly become so busy all of a sudden.

She only realized you were actively avoiding her one night when she stayed up late, waiting to see if you’d come back to the dorm.

When you entered, you were surprised to see her still awake.

“Hey,” she said, happy to see you for the first time in weeks. “Where were you?”

“At a party,” you said back coldly. You internally cursed yourself for not staying out later, unaware that Wanda would still be up when you came back. You looked around before grabbing some things from your dresser. “I need to shower,” you announced, leaving the room before Wanda could ask any more questions.

The brunette waited up for you, but you never came back. She waited hours before she finally succumbed to sleep, her thoughts a jumbled mess as she drifted away.

When she woke up the next morning and you were still gone, she knew you were actually making an effort not to see her and she could only wonder what she had done wrong. She mulled over it for a while but came up with nothing. She thought back to the almost-kiss and wondered if maybe she had made you uncomfortable that night.

Days went by and you continued to avoid her. Not knowing why you were staying away from her was driving her crazy. Her grades even began to suffer from how distracted she was in class, her mind consumed with thoughts of you.

She finally decided to confront you about it, but first she’d have to actually find you. She vaguely knew your class schedule but didn’t want to corner you in a public place, so she went to the one place she thought you might be late in the evening.

As soon as she entered the library after hours, she saw you in the corner at the same table the two of you used to sit at for your study sessions.

You were nose deep in your physics textbook, focusing intently as you tried to understand the topics without Wanda’s help. She walked over to you, mentally hyping herself up for the conversation she was both anticipating and dreading.

When you set the book down to take notes, you looked up and your eyes widened at the sight of Wanda approaching you.

Before you could say anything, she was taking a seat across from you. “Why are you avoiding me?” she demanded, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms, her tilting to the side.

“I- I’m not, I-” you stuttered out.

“Don’t,” she interrupted. “Don’t lie to me. You’re never back at the dorm anymore, you stopped spending any time with me, you literally said you were going to shower and just never came back. So don’t you dare lie to me right now.”

“I’ve just been busy,” you said nonchalantly, not wanting to tell her the truth. “I have a life outside of you, you know.” You regretted the words as soon as you said them.

“Bullshit,” she responded, getting angry. “You’re avoiding me and I can’t for the life of me figure out why. What did I do to you?”

“Nothing, Wands,” you reassured her. “You didn’t do anything. I just- I need to be alone.”

“Why?” She didn’t let up. She came here to get answers and she would get them one way or another.

“It’s personal,” you tried, hoping she wouldn’t press any further.

She scoffed. “What’s so personal you can’t share it with your best friend?”

You were at a loss for words. You couldn’t tell her the truth and risk ruining your friendship, but at this point there was barely anything left to ruin. You hadn’t seen Wanda properly in weeks, your friendship with her was practically nonexistent at the moment.

When you didn’t respond, she spoke again, softer this time. “What’s going on? You can tell me anything,” she uttered, reaching out to place a hand over yours.

“I can’t tell you this,” you mumbled, feeling your resolve weakening.

“What could possibly be so bad you can’t tell me?” She asked, her heart falling at the sight of you looking so small under her gaze.

“I- I can’t stand to see you with him,” you whispered, your voice so low she almost didn’t hear you.

“With who? Vision?” she asked and you nodded, looking down at your lap. “I still have time for you too, I’m not choosing him over you,” she tried to dispel your worries, not yet understanding what you were implying with your confession.

“No, Wanda, I can’t stand to see him with you,” you said, avoiding eye contact. “You don’t get it, you are choosing him and it hurts too much to be around you.”

“What are you saying?” She questioned, feeling both confused and hurt.

“I’m saying that I like you, Wanda,” you started. “As more than a friend.”

Wanda was silent for a moment, processing what you were telling her. Could she really have been so oblivious that she didn’t notice you wanted her too? It all made sense now. You’d stopped hanging out with her right around the time Vision came into the picture and she couldn’t figure out why, but now she understood.

“Please say something,” you said, feeling nervous and vulnerable as you looked up at her, unable to read her expression.

“I- I didn’t know,” she managed to get out.

“That was kind of the point,” you retorted, half-smiling to alleviate some of the tension.

Wanda let out a suppressed laugh. “I only started seeing Vision because I like you too,” she began. “I thought if I could be with him, I wouldn’t have to worry about complicating things with my feelings.”

Your mouth fell open at her words; you weren’t expecting her to ever reciprocate how you felt about her. “You do?”

She nodded. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship,” she said.

“Me neither,” you mumbled, looking down at her lips for a moment before making eye contact with her again.

She smirked when she noticed where your eyes went, making you blush. “I don’t think that’s a problem anymore,” she said, her eyes flicking down to your lips and back up.

“I think you may be right,” was all you could say before you stood up and walked around the table. Wanda stood up too, meeting you halfway as you pulled her in for a kiss that was long overdue.

You sighed against her lips, kissing her deeply the way you’d wanted to for so long. Your mouths moved together perfectly and it felt so right, you didn’t think you’d ever be able to stop.

This was what Wanda was waiting for.

The kiss she shared with you was everything her kiss with Vision wasn’t. It was electrifying in the best way, butterflies erupting in her stomach with every movement of your lips against hers.

When her tongue traced your bottom lip, you nearly moaned into the kiss, immediately granting her entry. Your tongue collided with hers and she whimpered, the sound going straight to your core. You brought a hand up to caress her cheek, your other hand going to the back of her head to play with her hair, causing her to let out a soft moan. This was everything you could’ve imagined and more.

Wanda’s hands came up to your face, cradling it as she deepened the kiss. Your lips and tongues moved in tandem, neither of you wanting to stop any time soon.

When you finally did detach from her, it was to catch your breath. You stayed close, your noses still touching as the two of you breathed against each other. You felt every breath from the brunette against your skin, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear as you finally opened your eyes.

You pulled back slightly to look at her, her eyes opening to meet your stare. Her pupils were dilated and you were sure yours looked similar. She looked so beautiful looking at you longingly, her lips swollen from the kiss and her breaths coming out labored, green eyes sparkling with lust and adoration.

“Wow,” you breathed out.

“Wow indeed,” she agreed, chuckling as she pulled you in for another kiss, this one much shorter than the first.

A comfortable silence fell over you, the two of you taking in the moment.

“So what now?” you asked, looking at her tenderly.

“I don’t know,” she answered, biting her lip. “It’s safe to say the friendship is ruined at this point, because I don’t want this to be the only time we do that.”

You nodded your agreement. “Me too,” you replied, your eyes falling to her lips once again. “I want you, Wanda. I have for so long.”

“I want you too,” she said without hesitation. “I’ll tell Vision it’s not working out. I want to see where this goes.”

You made a face at the mention of his name and Wanda chuckled. “Oh, you really don’t like him, huh?” She teased.

“Not one bit,” you murmured. “Not when he got to have what I wanted so badly.”

“Charmer.” She smiled at you, her cheeks turning red at your words.

“Can I kiss you again?” You blurted out, feeling your own cheeks redden at your neediness.

She responded by pressing her lips to yours once more and letting her tongue slide into your mouth, humming into the kiss contentedly.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, languidly kissing in the library after hours, catching up on lost time.

When you went back to your shared dorm for the night, you picked back up where you left off, this time with Wanda in your lap as you laid in your bed. Every once in a while, she’d grind her hips down against your lap just to hear you grunt in arousal against her lips.

You fell asleep together in your bed, Wanda’s head on your shoulder as her breathing evened out.

The following week, Wanda ended things with Vision and you took Wanda out on a proper date. Vision’s date paled in comparison to the one you took her on. This date was better simply because it was you and not him, but on top of that, you took her somewhere nice and treated her like a princess the whole night. She practically swooned every time you held the door for her, complimented her, or pulled out her chair for her.

By the end of the night, you were on cloud nine. It was just like spending time with your best friend, but this was infinitely better because you could kiss her whenever you wanted and tell her how beautiful she looked at any given moment.

You walked back to your dorm together, fingers interlocked as you listened to her talk about her dreams after college. When you made it back to the dorm, you opened the door to let her in first.

“Such a gentleman,” she joked, stepping in, and you followed.

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew what I wanted to do to you right now,” you said, pushing her against the door softly and looking at her for permission to kiss her.

A pang of arousal shot through her at your words. She wasn’t expecting you to be so bold, but she also wasn’t complaining. “Oh yeah?” she asked, playing along. “How about you show me?”

You didn’t hesitate as you kissed her hungrily, the feeling of her lips on yours making you feel dizzy with lust. You slipped your tongue into her mouth and she gasped at how eager you were, kissing you back with just as much fervor.

You trailed your kisses down to her neck, making her moan as you licked and sucked at the soft skin there. Her perfume invaded your senses and you groaned against her neck, her scent making your knees weak.

Her moans spurred you on as you sucked at her pulse point. She gripped your shoulders, her head thrown back against the door, eyes fluttering closed as you continued your assault on her neck.

She pulled you back up for another kiss, moaning into your mouth when you sunk your teeth into her bottom lip. When you finally pulled apart to catch your breath, you ran your thumb along her bottom lip, gazing into her lustful eyes.

“Are you sure about this?” You checked in with her, wanting to make sure she was really okay with what was about to happen.

“I’ve never been with a woman before,” she admitted, suddenly feeling shy. “But I want it to be you, please.”

You nearly groaned out loud hearing her beg for you, nodding as you lifted her up and carried her to your bed. You placed her down gently, crawling on top of her and kissing her again.

You once again began your descent, kissing her neck and sucking on her soft spots. She squirmed beneath you, feeling herself becoming wet under your touch.

Your fingers found the bottom of her shirt, playing with the fabric as you silently asked for permission to remove it. “Take it off,” Wanda whispered, starting to feel desperate from your slow teasing.

She sat up so you could pull the shirt off of her and reached back to unclasp her bra, letting the material fall from her shoulders. Your mouth fell open at the sight of her bare chest, nipples already hard. You’d seen her topless before while she was changing, but never like this. You’d never been allowed to look as much as you wanted, to admire her before you.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” you said, bringing your hands up to her chest as she leaned back again. Your thumbs brushed over her nipples, causing her to let out a whimper that sent heat coursing through your body.

You leaned in to take one of her nipples in your mouth, licking it gently before sucking on the hardened bud. Wanda moaned at that, the sound making you even more aroused. She sounded so pretty moaning under your touch and you couldn’t wait to hear what she sounded like when she came undone for you.

You gave her other nipple the same attention before moving down, one hand finding its way under her skirt. Your fingers reached her center, feeling a wet spot on the front of her underwear.

“You’re so wet for me,” you mumbled, in awe of how turned on she was. It almost made you feel a bit cocky, knowing it was you who made her so wet she was soaking through her panties.

“Please,” the brunette gasped out, bucking her hips up against your fingers. “Need you.”

“Yeah? You need me, pretty girl?” You cooed, rubbing your fingers along her slit over her underwear.

She nodded frantically, her hips desperately trying to meet your hand for any sort of friction against her aching pussy. You pushed aside her panties to touch her without any barriers and you let out a moan of your own at the soft, slick feeling of her folds against your fingertips. She was dripping, her wetness clinging to your skin and the lace of her panties as you dragged your fingers through her folds teasingly.

All of a sudden, you pulled your hand back and she whined, already missing the contact. “Shh, I’m just gonna take these off, okay?” You asked, subtly making sure she was comfortable with you removing the last of her clothes.

“Yeah,” she responded, lifting her hips so you could pull her skirt and panties off in one motion.

Once she was rid of her clothes, you took a moment to appreciate the view before you. Wanda was gorgeous all over, you thought to yourself, admiring her underneath you. You raked your eyes over her, committing the sight to memory as she blushed against the covers of your bed, feeling hot under your gaze.

“You can stare all you want later, right now I need you,” she said breathily, grabbing your hand and bringing it to where she needed you most. Your fingers met her wet center once more and you immediately started rubbing her clit, making her moan and buck her hips.

You kissed her again, swallowing her moans as you picked up your pace, making tight circles on her sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Fuck, just like that,” she whimpered, her face contorted in pleasure, eyebrows furrowed, heavy breaths escaping her as you brought her pleasure.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” you mumbled, watching her throw her head back and close her eyes as she got lost in the feeling of your fingers against her.

You stopped your movements just long enough to tease her entrance and upon hearing another “please,” you slid a finger inside. You fucked her with one finger for a few moments before sliding another one in, causing her to let out a guttural moan at the feeling of you stretching her out.

You kissed down her body again, making your way down to where you desperately wanted to taste her. When your hot mouth met her clit, she let out another delicious sound, her hips starting to grind against you, chasing her pleasure. Her movements caused her clit to rub against your tongue while your fingers pumped inside of her and she felt herself becoming close already.

“You taste so good,” you praised, barely moving your mouth from her pussy to speak, before reattaching your lips to her clit and sucking hard. She moaned at your words and at the pressure building in her lower stomach, continuing to rut her hips against you.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck, I’m so close,” she moaned, one hand coming to the back of your head to keep you there, as if you would ever deny her anything.

With a few more thrusts of your fingers, she came undone, loud moans filling the room as she reached her peak. Her hips stuttered against your face, her clit pulsing under your tongue while her pussy clenched around your fingers.

You slowed your movements, helping her ride out the aftershocks, small whimpers and moans leaving her as she came down from her high. She sighed, all of the tension having left her body, before pulling you up for a kiss, tasting herself on your tongue.

“I could get used that,” she hummed, smiling up at you tiredly.

“Me too,” you panted out, still incredibly turned on from seeing her cum for you. “I kinda can’t wait to do it again.”

“You want me that bad?” She teased, smirking.

“Absolutely,” you replied genuinely, staring at her with so much love and lust in your eyes it made her heart flutter and her pussy throb.

“Go ahead baby, fuck me again,” she said, your own cunt clenching around nothing at her words. You returned to your new favorite spot between her legs and did exactly what she told you, her hand in your hair guiding you the whole time.

After three more rounds, Wanda was spent, and you joined her at the head of the bed, letting her turn towards you and rest her head on your shoulder. You held her close as she traced patterns on your arm, catching her breath after falling apart for you so many times.

“Do you still need help with physics?” She asked, breaking the silence.

You chuckled at that. “Yes, desperately,” you responded, letting a hand come up to play with her hair. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

She laughed, finding it amusing that you’d needed her help the past few weeks but were too stubborn to ask for it. “Study session this week?” she suggested, her eyes falling closed at the feeling of your fingers on her scalp.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” you said, smiling happily, feeling at peace in the arms of the girl you loved.

You never would’ve thought you would be so grateful for having to take a physics course, but now you were certain it was the best thing that had ever happened to you.

[marlynnofmany]

Dangerous Teeth

As I watched the struggle with the door mechanism, I thought again that it was good we’d gotten our delivery done early. Planetary time zones being what they are, it’s usually inconvenient to land at a spaceport in the pre-dawn, while everyone on our ship is wide awake. Nothing to do but wait until the clients are ready to receive whatever we’re bringing them. Today though, our client was an early riser. I’d taken a short walk from the ship with Mur and Paint, and we’d dropped off three lightweight boxes of exotic moss. Then we were free to stop by the local food court as soon as it opened.

It wasn’t open yet, which is why we’d picked this nice little garden lounge to wait. It was indoors with artificial sun. It had a single door. That door had just thrown a rod or whatever, and now it refused to open again.

I sat on a low bench (awkwardly low) and watched while Mur and a Waterwill who’d also gotten stuck in here pried off the panel over the door mechanism. I would have liked to help somehow, but all my expertise was in biological things, not technological. Plus my fingers were nowhere near as maneuverable as Mur’s tentacles or whatever the Waterwills called their extendable tendrils. This one was making some very tiny ones, not the usual arm-chunks. Fingers would be no help here.

And Paint was handling the phone calls: she’d brought a bag with many pockets, planning to fill it with food, but so far all it contained was her communicator, and she was putting that to good use. She’d already notified our ship. Now she was trying to get ahold of someone official who could send a mechanic. She paced back and forth, rattling claws across her arm scales and speaking intensely.

That left me with nothing to do except sample the local snackberries, which were rooted in a pot next to the bench with a detailed sign about which species could safely eat them. Each branch was grafted from a different plant. There was an elaborate chart on that sign. As usual, the section for humans showed that we could eat every single berry there. Oh, and there were nuts too. Nice.

I tried something like a pistachio with a spiky shell, decided it was extremely average, then entertained myself briefly with the compost can next to the sign. The motion sensor / scanning field at the top of it would open only for acceptable compost. Any other trash was the responsibility of whoever brought it in here. I tossed the two shell halves in one at a time, watched the mini force field blink on and off, then looked for more nuts to do it again.

A quiet hello made me crane my neck in confusion. There was no way the bush could talk, right? Alien gene-splicing wouldn’t have gone that far. But thankfully no, it wasn’t science with questionable morals; it was somebody hiding on the other side.

“Hello!” I said, trying to get a better look. “Sorry, I didn’t see you back there.”

“That’s good,” said the brown-furred fellow huddled among the berries. “Maybe no one else will either.”

I glanced back at the door, but saw just my two coworkers and the Waterwill, none of whom were paying attention. I asked quietly, “Are you hiding from someone specific?”

“No,” he said, not elaborating. He took a mouthful of something green, and for a moment I thought he was eating the leaves of the berry bush, which weren’t on the list of edible items. But he lifted it higher for a second bite, and I could identify a handful of grasslike stuff from a different food pot. The fast-growing lettuce area. A herbivore specialty.

I told him, “I don’t think you have anyone to be afraid of here.”

He didn’t answer for a moment, just looking around with wide eyes and eating the rest of his handful of grass. His teeth were distinctly the gnawing sort. Finally, he asked, “Do you know how long it will take to get the door open?”

“Hard to say.” I turned back to see Mur and the Waterwill talking animatedly, the door still firmly shut. Paint looked like she was on hold. “Hopefully not long. If they can’t figure it out, the maintenance people should be able to open it from the other side.”

“I’ve seen them,” was the quiet response. “They’re scary.”

“The maintenance crew? Scary how?”

The guy got even quieter. “Flesh-eaters. There are so many here. I didn’t know when I came.”

I thought about my answer very carefully. “You know that none of them want to eat you, right? That sort of thing is horrifying to civilized society as a whole.”

The guy twitched his ears, which I hadn’t realized were folded back, in scared rabbit style. “They said that. Not sure if I believe it yet.”

“Society couldn’t function if people went around eating each other!” I insisted. “Think about it. People need to trust one another to some degree, otherwise they wouldn’t be able to cooperate when they’re all living together in the same place. Food comes from the food stores. Anyone who hurts another person intentionally is likely to get in trouble with the authorities. And that’s for small things, much less full-on killing and eating them!”

He twitched his nose, very rabbitlike. “But with all those sharp teeth, don’t they get tempted? Aren’t flesh-eaters hardwired to crave flesh when they’re hungry?”

“Not from other people who can talk back to them,” I said. “And most of the flesh-eaters I know prefer to cook their food.”

He bared his gnawing teeth. “Burning the flesh before they eat it. Horrifying.”

I wanted to ask if his people didn’t cook their food, since plenty of plants gave up more nutrition when softened like that, but I thought better of it. The answer was probably no, and he would ask about my people’s food, and that was a topic I wanted to steer well clear of. The poor guy had seen me eating plants and made an assumption that I wasn’t eager to correct.

Then, in what felt like very bad timing, Paint put her communicator away and walked back over. I winced. For probably the first time ever, I looked at the gentlest person on our ship, and really noticed her sharp teeth and claws.

Paint told me, “They said someone will be on the way soon. I couldn’t get them to specify soon exactly. Somehow this doesn’t seem like a high priority to them.” She frowned.

“That’s unfortunate,” I said. “Would you like to try a berry? There’s a chart here that says which is safe for who.”

“Goodness, what a lot of choices!” Paint looked at the chart, then at the bush. Then she bent down and peered between the branches. “Hello back there!”

The rabbity guy was silent, frozen in place like a very frightened lawn decoration. He didn’t even blink.

I sighed, then told her quietly, “He’s afraid of flesh-eaters.”

Paint looked stricken. “Oh no! Why?”

“Because he’s made of flesh.”

“But so is everybody!” Paint exclaimed. “No one’s going to eat him!” She looked back into the bush. “Nobody wants to eat you. I promise.”

The guy seemed to be making a conscious effort to take deep breaths. “What about them?” he whispered, pointing a paw-hand toward the pair still working on the door. “I heard them talk about the breakfast they’re looking forward to. They mentioned creatures with fur and gnawing teeth.”

“That was—” Paint said. “They didn’t mean you! Mur was talking about an animal from his planet, a little one that’s not a person. They’re about this big, and they meet absolutely none of the criteria for sapient beings.” She held her hands a few inches apart. “He wants to get food from the stalls at the food court like everybody else.”

I nodded. “That’s what I’ve been saying.”

Paint nodded even more vigorously. “See? Robin knows. She's the animal expert, the person to ask about which type of creature would attack another.”

I opened my mouth to add something else, but Paint was still talking.

“And her species eats everything, so she knows about it from all sides!”

The guy made a little erk noise, and I sighed. “That’s less helpful,” I told Paint.

She seemed to be realizing that herself. “Sorry,” she said to me, then addressed the guy in the bush. “I thought you knew! But really, that just proves our point. You’ve been next to a flesh-eater all this time, and nobody’s tried to bite you.”

I agreed, “Just these berries.” I popped another one into my mouth, then regretted it. “Ugh, that one’s sour.”

Paint consulted the chart. “I think it’s called a sourbud.”

“That makes sense. Bluh. I got it mixed up with these other whatsits, the sunsweet ones. Similar color.”

“Very different smell, though,” Paint said with sniff like a wine connoisseur.

“Yes, we both know about your sense of smell.”

“Ooh, what are these? They smell amazing.”

The two of us talked for a bit about the various snack plants, deliberately ignoring the quiet rabbit guy, giving him time to process our very nonthreatening attitudes.

I was starting to suspect that he’d stay hidden in the bush until the maintenance crew came and went, but eventually there was a quiet rustle of leaves. With his eyes still wide and his motions timid, he took a seat on the far end of the bench.

Paint was still standing, and greeted him from a safe distance. “Good to see you! Would you like a berry? We can help you find the best ones.”

He was very brave and said yes. We consulted the chart and his preferences in flavor, and spent a few friendly minutes selecting berries. When it became clear that we weren’t going to make any surprise lunges at him, he gradually relaxed. His ears really did look like a rabbit’s when he let them stand up straight.

Mur yelled, “Aha!”

I looked up to see him with most of his tentacles braced against the wall, pulling hard on something that looked like a cable. I worried that he was about to either electrocute himself or destroy the mechanism completely, then I saw the small leaves.

It was a vine, and it had grown up inside the electronics panel. The various plants lined up along the wall looked carefully cultivated, but somebody had missed this one. If the leaves sprouting from the flowerpot closest to the door were as familiar as they looked, then that was probably the culprit. The visible plants were all wrapped around a decorative spiral frame. I had a sneaking suspicion that the drainage holes at the bottom of that pot were big enough for rebellious roots to sneak out, and take unauthorized journeys.

Mur called, “Anybody got a blade? This is a tough one.”

“I don’t. Paint?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I only brought the communicator. Too bad we don’t have Zhee or Trrili with us. They could probably make short work of it.”

While their praying mantis blade arms could have done it, I thought of a better idea. I said with a smile, “You know who else could? Our friend here with the gnawing teeth.”

He looked startled, but not afraid. “What, me?”

“Sure! Out of everyone here, you’re the only one whose teeth are built for slicing through tough plants with ease. Care to show us how it’s done and save the day?”

It took a little encouraging, but not as much as I’d expected. We checked the signage near the pot first, just to be sure I wasn’t urging him to chew on something toxic, and we confirmed that this was the same type of plant. Mur hauled as much of it into the open as he could, which wasn’t much. The Waterwill held various door bits in place. Then the rabbity guy stepped forward and was brave enough to put his head close to Mur’s tentacles.

He bit through the vine with a couple of swift chomps, separating the middle segment right where Mur had suggested.

“Nice work!” Mur said, moving the remainder of the vine. “Now we can tuck the rest of this nonsense to the side and reassemble the parts where they’re supposed to be.”

The Waterwill said, “Already on it,” reshaping one water tendril and maneuvering it around like a locksmith.

Paint looked up at the hero of the hour, who was still holding the segment of vine. “Hooray, you did it! Do you want more berries to celebrate?”

“Yes please,” he said, still breathing a little quickly. “That tasted terrible.”

We got him some of the berries that he liked best, then heard a promising klunk and more celebration. The door trundled open.

Mur made cheerful burbling noises. “Go team!”

“Quick, everybody out before it does something else bizarre!” said the Waterwill, immediately scooting out into the open.

Nobody was about to argue that point. We all hurried outside to where we wouldn’t be trapped again, then waved goodbye to the Waterwill. Paint called the officials back with an update on what kind of problem the mechanics would need to fix.

Mur said, “I’m off to the food court. It’ll definitely be open by now.”

“We’ll be right behind you,” I told him.

He spun off in a whirl of tentacles. I looked down at the rabbity fellow, who looked small now that I was standing up. But he stood taller than he had all morning.

I said, “Thanks again.”

He twitched his ears happily and said, “It was my pleasure!” He sounded a bit surprised by that.

“Off to get your own breakfast?”

He nodded decisively. “Yes. And no one’s going to bite me.”

“Right!” I agreed. “Even if they did, you could bite them right back!”

He smiled a fierce little rabbit smile, then scampered off into the spaceport.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[evansbuckle]

Mechanic!Singledad!Bucky Barnes AU

woop woop part two is here. These two have been taking up my thoughts big time since part one, and im super excited about it! Likes and reblogs are always appreciated!<3

wordcount: 2192

warnings: Bucky's a flirt, toddler has food on mouth, proofread but barely. Use of y/n, and reader has she/her pronouns.

masterlist part one part three part four part five part six

Grease, part two.

Saturdays were saved for two things - breakfast bagels and the dog park. The sizzle of bacon filled the small kitchen, as Cheryl napped on the sofa, gathering energy for her favourite time of the week. My bagel popped out of the toaster, and I constructed my sandwich to perfection, slapping some cheese on it, then leaving it in the oven a minute longer for the cheese to melt. I poured myself a coffee, grabbing my sandwich out the oven and sat down at the island, feet swinging as I listened to the radio.

I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the way that Bucky looked at me, the way I wanted him to do more than look at me, since he left last night. Cheryl’s bark snapped me out of my thoughts and I knew she was getting restless, so I finished up breakfast and got my trainers on. 

I let Cheryl off her leash as she jogged around the park, keeping to herself, stopping to smell the grass every minute or so. I sat on a bench facing her, closing my eyes and letting the sun warm my face. I open my eyes again, taking in the sight of Cheryl basking in the sunlight, much like I’d just been doing, and a sense of gratitude filled my body.

“Y/n?” My heart picks up at the sound of the familiar voice saying my name, but I urge myself to calm down. I turn to look at him, but my eyes fall on Becky first, her blonde hair glowing in the sun much like a disney princesses’ would.

“Hi guys,” I wave to them, “what’re you doing here?”

“Watching the doggies! Sometimes one or two of them say hello to me. Daddy won’t get me a puppy.” The girl says, climbing onto the bench next to me, eyes saddened at the fact Bucky wouldn’t give into her whims. “Why are you sitting on your own?” she asks. Bucky looks like he’s exasperated, about to tell her there’s nothing wrong with sitting alone, but I don’t give him a chance.

“I’m not alone,” I tell her, “here with a special someone actually.” 

“A boyfriend!”

“What?” Bucky manages to croak out, squinting at me.

“What? No, not a boyfriend,” I laugh, calling over Cheryl, “dog.” I grab Cheryl by the collar, stopping her before she gets too close to Becky. “You can say hello. I know she’s big, and might look quite scary, but I promise she’s friendly.” Explaining that felt like wasted breath though, because the little girl wasted no time in lunging for the dog, scratching her ears and patting her head, giggling at the way the dog’s tongue sticks out. I look up at Bucky and we both laugh at the sight.

“She’s not scared of ‘em,” he starts to explain, “keeping her away from them is the issue. Every dog she sees is her new favourite, i swear.” I giggle at the thought of Becky running up to every puppy they pass on the sidewalk.

“How are you?” He asks, while his daughter is distracted, “sleep well?”

“Yeah fine, good. I don’t have work today, and the sun’s out so, dog park it was. How about you?”

“Good, yeah. Becky was gettin’ restless so I figured this would tire her out, except now she might end up stealing Cheryl.” He let out a dry chuckle, forcing himself to look away from y/n, which felt like going to war, especially when her laugh sounded like someone had opened the gates of heaven for him, just briefly.

I looked back at Becky then, a smile stuck on my face. “I wouldn’t mind to be honest. If she ever wants to borrow Cheryl she can. So what’s next for you guys?”

Bucky shrugs, running a hand through his hair, “lunch, then i’m dropping her at a friends house. I swear, she’s got more friends than I do. But yeah, I’ll probably just hang around at home while she’s there. Unless,” Bucky stops himself speaking, eyes catching mine. I wait for him to continue, not breaking the silence, “ah, unless you wanted to join us. I know Becky’d love to have you over, and I could do with company after she goes.”

“Yeah, yeah i think that would be nice actually. Maybe I’d get to make fun of your music taste now,” I giggle, “I can meet you guys at yours? I need to get Cheryl a sitter.” Bucky nods and gives me his address, i say goodbye to Becky and go back home. Getting Cheryl a sitter wasn’t as long as I made it out to be. I knew my neighbour would do it without hesitation, I just needed a moment. I looked in the mirror before getting my bag together. Jeans and a white blouse would have to do, I didn’t want to risk getting changed and make the wrong impression, but then, what were the chances he’d notice? I packed my bag and left.

*

Twenty minutes later, i stand outside a modest little bungalow. I know it’s right because Bucky’s jeep is parked up outside, and there’s a pink kids car parked up next to it. I take a breath and ring the doorbell.

“Y/n!” A little voice calls out as the door opens, welcoming me inside. It’s warm inside, in every sense of the word. I walk through to the living room, the green walls covered in pictures, drawings, certificates. The archway into the kitchen was home to a height chart, done in different colours for each age. Bucky stands over the stove, his broad back facing us as Becky walks me through the rest of the place.

“You have a beautiful home Bucky,” i startle him, stifling a laugh at the way he jumps at the sound of my voice, “it’s so-”

“Small?”

“Charming.”

I walk over to a shelf in the living room, mostly filled with framed photos of Becky with various family members. There’s one of her and Bucky with two older people.

“My parents,” he stands behind me, his chest not quite touching my back but i can feel him, his warmth, his cologne. “it was the last time we saw them.” My heart sinks at the words, knowing it can’t be easy for him to see that everyday. “Don’t look so sad,” his hands rest on my upper arms, squeezing softly, “it was a good day. Now come on, lunch is ready.” He moves us so i’m in front of him, but his hands don’t leave my body as he guides me into the kitchen, seating me at the table before getting Becky. 

“y/n?” Becky says from her seat, bits of sauce on her mouth still, “can i ask you a question?” I nod at her, my own mouth full.

“Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”

I choke on the chicken in my mouth, hearing Bucky laugh. I threw my napkin at his face while he just smirked to me and I turned back to the girl. “I don’t know, guess I just haven’t met the right man.” She nods her little head, and I could physically feel the cogs turning in her brain. 

“But you’re pretty.”

Bucky interjects now, “she is, but not all pretty people have partners, plum. Not all people even want partners. Now, wipe your mouth please, otherwise no friends today.” That appeases her, as she wipes at her mouth feverishly. I can’t focus on much but the blush that’s inevitably creeping up my face at his compliment. He gathers our plates, setting them in the dishwasher before getting Becky ready and dropping her off. 

I stay behind while he does, taking time to poke around a little. I glanced into Becky’s room first, almost blinded by the pink walls and purple carpet, the room littered with stuffed animals. I peek into Bucky’s bedroom next, the place a complete contrast from his daughter’s. Almost bare save from a bed, a nightstand, and a modest pile of books on his dresser. Had it been anyone else’s room it would’ve looked incomplete, but it made sense for Bucky.

“Snooping?” 

I whip my body round, colliding with a hard figure, not expecting him to be stood so close. He laughs at me, “s’alright you can look.” He walks into the room first, opening the door wider. 

“You don’t have much.”

“Don’t need much.” I nod at his response, looking at the books. It’s the entire Lord of the Rings series, with the spines worn and pages all dog-eared and bent.

“Didn’t really take you for a nerd.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know, darlin,” he nods to the door, “come on.”

He leads us into the living room, passing me a beer before sitting down on the sofa next to me, flicking through the television. He lands on some old detective movie. 

“First fantasy books, now noir movies? What next?” 

 “Guess you’ll have to stick around and find out, huh?” He smirks at me, taking a sip of his drink. “Can I ask you something?”

“What is it with the Barnes’ and asking questions?” I joke, trying to ignore the heat creeping through my body.

“Well, it’s actually the same question. Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”

I shake my head a little bit, trying to gather my thoughts. “I don’t know, I guess I’m not really the pursuing type.” 

“What do you mean?”

“No-one really approaches me, y’know? But i’m too stubborn to pursue people either, so being single seems easier.”

He grunts in response, “they’re stupid.”

“Excuse me?”

“The people,” he vaguely gestures at the air, eyes burning into mine, “the ones not approaching you? They’re stupid.” I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything, just look at him as I take another sip of my drink.

“I mean it, y/n,” his hand hesitates before it moves to my face, pushing some hair out of my face before resting on my jaw, calloused thumb tracing softly over my burning cheek. “You’re real warm, sugar.” His body leans closer, the movement almost imperceptible. 

“Yeah, it’s uhm, it’s warm, today” I stutter through my sentence, not daring to move. He chuckles, his voice rough, as he moves his hand and leans back against the couch. It takes everything in me to not grab his hand and bring it back to me. 

“How’s the car?” I ask, trying to cut through the silence that rested between us now.

“Your brake belt is replaced. Just waiting on the engine to arrive tomorrow, or day after, can’t remember. Then I’ll change it for ya, should take maybe a day or two.”

“You sound like you know what you’re doing.”

“I have to know what I’m doing, sugar, otherwise I’d be a lousy mechanic don’t you think?”

“Yeah you’re right. Can I come by?”

“You are by.”

I purse my lips, “not your house, Barnes, the garage.”

“Why? Wanna see me all greased and sweaty?” He winks at me, and if I didn’t know better i’d think he was making me blush on purpose.

“No! I’m just curious to see how it all works.”

“Yeah, course you can. I'll let you know when the engine’s here. Not much action for you to see before then.”

I nod, letting quiet grow over us again. I try to keep focused on the telly, but it’s hard when his thigh is resting against mine, and his right arm is thrown over the back of the sofa, playing with a strand of my hair. I can feel his stare on the side of my head, so i turn to face him.

“Is there something on my face?”

“No, I was just thinking,” he takes a breath, turning to me, “I like spending time with you. I don’t really know how we got… here. But I like it.”

“I like it too, Bucky.” My voice now is just louder than a whisper. There’s something quaint about this moment that I don’t dare break. I could see his brain working overtime, and his mouth open and close, sort of like a fish.

“Wouldyouliketogoonadatewithme?”

“Sorry? You’re gonna have to say that slower, please”

“Would you like to go on a date with me? Please?”

I take in the man sitting beside me, his hands in his lap, thumbs twiddling. His face is reddened, but only a little.

“Yeah.”

“Wait what?” He does a double-take at me, eyes wide like he’d expected me to laugh at the thought.

I laughed at him then, “I would like to go on a date with you Bucky.” He nods slowly, like the words are just sinking in.

“How about Monday? I’ll text you the time, come pick you up?”

“Monday it is then.” 

Bucky’s phone rings then, he swears lightly as he reaches for it. He says all of three words before hanging up.

“‘M sorry, sugar, I need to go get Becky.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll see you on Monday.” I join him in standing up, leaning up on my tiptoes to softly peck his cheek before waving bye, and going home.

[moralityandmusings]

Peter in Gotham: Nice Try, Though.

Listen, Peter knows he's being kind of an asshole. Maybe blame the Trauma or the fighting literal middle aged homicidal maniacs at 15 years old or, most likely in this specific case, the fact that he somehow got transported to a city that smells worse than the Hulk's armpit on a bad day. But you cannot blame a guy for seeking out the one thing that brings a modicum of joy to his life in the middle of what are honestly some of the worst few months he's ever had. So when Signal, for the second time this patrol, tries to inch his way onto the rooftop about five feet behind Peter, well... Peter does what brings him joy.

"Hood tried that same tactic last week. Didn't work then either." Peter would never admit out loud that he's smirking under his mask. Behind him, he hears Signal groan then shuffle forward to sit on the rooftop beside him, all attempts at stealth out the window.

"How do you do that!? Seriously!? It was funny the first few times you did it to B and Robin, but Every. Single. Time? From all of us?" Peter lets out a brief chuckle. "Maybe you guys should train harder."

An affronted gasp is ripped out of the other hero. "Trai- Train harder?! How dare you? Our training was the actual best, some of us were even trained by literal assassins. It's not our fault you seem to have some... some sixth sense for when we're nearby!" Peter let out a full laugh at that.

When he'd landed in Gotham initially, he'd been shocked and confused. It didn't take long for Karen to connect him to the internet and for him to realize he was not in Kansas anymore. Kansas being New York, or... Oscorp? Depends on how you want to look at it. New York if the city, the Oscorp 16th floor laboratories if you want to get the picture. You know what, this is too much info, you get the picture.

When he realized Gotham had heroes already, he looked into the politics of it all. He knew powered people were not always welcome (he'd dealt with enough rants from Wade about the X-Men mutant rights campaign to get a clue), so he dug deeper into this universe/dimension/whatever you want to call this Not New York and Not Oscorp place. What he found was contradictory and borderline laughable. The Batman, cryptid protector of Gotham, had seemingly instigated a No-Meta's rule for the city, but one of his affiliated heroes within Gotham was a person with powers. Also, he regularly teamed up with powered individuals when working alongside the Justice League, which he'd co-founded. So, Peter felt pretty confident that if he let himself get introduced to the Bats early on he would be safe here. And he was right. He hopped back into the friendly-neighborhood habits in the rougher parts of town (seriously, who has a whole section of a city called "Crime Alley"), and within a few days he found himself in the presence of not one, not two, but three Bats, including the big Bat himself. He had been debating pretty regularly with himself about how much to reveal and. the mechanics of dimension travel and not wanting to break or alter any timelines, blah, blah, blah. But when it came down to it, there had been no alerts or ringing from his Spidey-Sense other than a buzz to let him know they were closeby. As soon as he turned around to greet them, the buzz died down entirely.

So he told them everything except his name. He was honest. He even told the Bat that they were welcome to take a blood sample to see he wasn't lying about not having a Meta gene and that he was just a regular old lab experiment gone wrong. He was entirely unsurprised when they did take one, but he was sort of surprised that when they asked for his name and he told them that he wouldn't give them one, they only asked "why?" instead of immediately attacking him. And Peter was honest again. He was a functional adult, he had the means to create himself a fake ID and documents, and he wanted to establish himself in Gotham for whatever amount of time he was stuck there. Where he came from, identities were earned and he had been burned before because of it. He was in a new place with new dangers and the last thing he needed while trying to get his feet under him were outside forces (AKA Bats) meddling in his personal life and making it harder for him, even if unintentional. They'd get his name in time, but they'd have to earn his trust, just like he would be working to earn theirs.

The Bats hadn't loved that answer (shockingly), but they only asked for his name a few more times before dropping it entirely when he refused to budge. The constant questions had quickly moved to his powers after that though. Peter hadn't minded sharing, as his potential teammates would be better equipped to work with him in the field if they knew what he was capable of. He did however, by genuine accident, leave out his Spidey-Sense when listing them. And rather than add it on later, he quickly realized that it was a small source of entertainment that didn't cause any true harm.

And within about a week after those power-related questions started, a bet was made between the Bats. In all the times they had met with Peter, not a single one could sneak up on him. Not Dick, not Jason, not even Damien or Cass! So, as siblings do, they made a bet. Whoever could sneak up on Peter and tap him on the shoulder without being spotted or acknowledged first would get a whole batch of Alfred's cookies to themselves. Peter knew the prize, and he sure as hell wasn't going to make it easy on them.

"Yeah, it's a sixth sense alright." He chuckles. "I told you guys I had heightened senses. I can hear you coming from several blocks away, even further if I'm actually listening out for you. You guys will just have to be stealthier." Peter shrugged jovially.

Signal grumbled to himself over that. "Stealthier, he says. Well, how do you suggest we do that?" Signal leans forward on the edge of the roof to try and catch Peter's line of sight. "Well, you can start by telling Red Robin that changing his patrol times just to pair up with you in an attempt to use you to distract me would work a lot better if I couldn't hear his cape scraping against the railings on the fire escape steps just now." Signal reeled back in shock as a plethora of curses rang out from the fire escape behind their backs, prompting Peter to chuckle again. "Nice try, though."

[rosierin]

a place to fall apart | osamu miya

synopsis; (y/n) comforts osamu after he and his girlfriend broke up

disclaimer; despite the tags, this is not a ship!! 'tis purely platonic!osamu x reader

this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series! for more, click here :)

The front door clicked shut.

There were no heavy footsteps. No sigh of relief. Not even a muttered complaint about his long day.

(Y/n) glanced up from her spot on the couch. Atsumu and Suna barely acknowledged it, too caught up in their conversation. It wasn’t until Osamu walked past the living room, and straight into the kitchen without so much as a glance, that (y/n) realized something was off.

Her brows furrowed.

That wasn’t right. Osamu always acknowledged them, even if it was just a nod, a wave, a passing comment. There was usually something.

Suna was the second to catch on, eyes flicking toward the kitchen, then to (y/n) with his eyebrows raised. Their silent conversation seemed to catch Atsumu’s attention too. He followed Suna’s line of sight, twisting where he sat, his own brows knitting in thought.

“Oi,” he called. “What’s with the long face? Barely heard ya come in.”

When Osamu didn’t respond, (y/n) pursed her lips and cast both Suna and Atsumu a wary look. It seemed none of them had the heart to say anything else. Well—except for Atsumu. He’d never been good at keeping his mouth shut. For better or worse.

“Seriously, what’s up with ya?” he pressed. (Y/n) cringed at the tone—more irritated than sympathetic. “Ya look like a slapped ass."

Osamu’s reaction—or rather lack thereof—only confirmed what they were all beginning to suspect. Something was indeed very wrong.

Tired or not, happy or blue, Osamu always spoke back to his brother.

They were like magnets, the two of them. Always drawn to each other, stuck together by some invisible force. But just like magnets, they clashed. Snapping, sparking, butting heads when pushed the wrong way, repelling just as often as they connected. Silence wasn’t part of their rhythm.

So, when Osamu didn’t react to his taunt—no insult, no eye roll—(y/n) felt a sudden press of urgency.

She watched him quietly, chewing the inside of her cheek, as he moved around the kitchen. His actions were slow, almost mechanical. He opened the cupboard, grabbed a glass, and turned the tap on without so much as a blink. He barely even flinched when he overfilled his glass, only noticing once the water had begun trickling down his hand and soaking his sleeve.

(Y/n) didn’t have it in her to laugh—not like Atsumu, who snorted, shaking his head as though the whole thing were more amusing than concerning. “Geez, what, did ya get dumped or somethin’?”

It was a joke. (Y/n) knew that. A bad one, sure. But that was just how Atsumu was; he could be awfully tactless at times. Still, something about the words made (y/n)’s chest go tight.

If it was meant as bait, Osamu didn’t bite back. Instead, he simply lifted his glass to his lips, took a sip, and set it down. Then, for the first time that evening, he spoke.

“M’fine,” he murmured. “Just tired.”

His words were anything but convincing. Though perhaps he wasn’t even trying.

He sounded tired. Looked it, too, as he ran a hand through his messy hair. But that couldn’t be all. Osamu was composed, level-headed, the one who kept things moving. A bad day at work wouldn’t have left him like this.

Bad days warranted a five-minute rant and a long sigh as he walked through the door. But not this. Not silence. Not this blank, foggy-eyed version of him standing in front of the fridge, lost in thought.

Guilt gnawed at her. She wanted to help; maybe she could. Maybe, if he just talked about it, it would lift some of the weight.

It was with that thought in mind that she pushed herself off the couch, ostensibly to rinse out her mug. But really, she just wanted an excuse to speak with him—alone. Osamu wasn’t the type to open up easily, and he’d already made it clear he wasn’t in the mood to share—at least not with his brother breathing down his neck. Maybe, with a bit of privacy, he’d soften.

She stepped into the kitchen and approached the sink. He didn’t look her way, but when she spoke, she tried to make her voice as light and casual as she could muster. “Are you okay?”

His response was noncommittal—a barely perceptible hum that wasn’t quite yes or no, but sounded an awful lot like the latter.

The fridge light cast uneven shadows across his face, highlighting the puffiness beneath his eyes. (Y/n)’s heart sank. She hadn’t noticed before.

Her brows pinched with concern. As private as Osamu could be, he was still the most emotionally forthcoming of the boys—the one who didn’t hide behind bravado or dry indifference. Usually, he spoke to her.

Why not today?

Her fingers twitched with the urge to reach out, maybe to graze his forearm in quiet sympathy.

There were times where (y/n) didn't necessarily feel like discussing her feelings, either. Some days, it was too draining. Other days, too complicated. And sometimes, what helped most wasn’t words—it was simply knowing someone was there. A steady presence. A wordless kind of comfort. It's what Suna was so good at—what (y/n) had picked up from him over the years. Only now, with Osamu, she was scared of crossing a line.

The words tangled in her throat, her mind chewing over the right thing to say. The moment stretched. Then, remembering the mug in her hands, she turned on the tap, filling the silence, keeping her hands busy.

She felt silly for overthinking it. She’d known Osamu long enough. They’d confided in each other before. But just as she made peace with saying something, the soft thunk of the fridge door closing broke her train of thought. She turned, only to see him blink himself back into the present. His eyes had regained some focus, brows furrowed like he’d remembered something unpleasant. Then came the slump of his shoulders, a breath that looked heavy.

He was going to leave. Panic flickered in her chest. She was about to miss her chance.

She reached out. “Hey, ’Samu, you know you can—”

But the rest never left her mouth. His arm brushed past her fingertips, and then he was gone—already slipping out of the kitchen.

“I’m goin’ to bed,” was all he said.

And (y/n) deflated, the hollowness in his voice sitting heavy in the air behind him.

There were footsteps, and not much else. Then came the soft click of his bedroom door. Silence followed.

(Y/n) stepped back into the living room, feeling like she’d somehow failed as a friend. Her gaze drifted to the others, scanning their faces for any kind of emotion. Naturally, her attention snagged on Atsumu—and unlike before, there were no traces of mirth or exasperation. This time, he looked genuinely concerned.

She glanced at Suna next, who simply offered a faint shrug.

“Something’s definitely up,” (y/n) said quietly, hugging her arms to her chest. “I’ve never seen ’Samu this sad.”

She turned to Atsumu, looking for confirmation.

He sighed. “Mm. Even I haven’t seen him act this weird in a while.”

That couldn’t be good—if even his twin was worried.

“There has to be something we can do…” (y/n) murmured, brows pulling together in thought.

Then it hit her.

If there was one thing Osamu loved, it was food. It wasn’t just his passion—it was his happy place. His comfort. She’d seen him cook when he was stressed, how it grounded him, focused him. She cursed herself for not offering him dinner sooner.

Crossing the room, she padded over to the base of the stairs and craned her neck, hoping her voice would carry up the staircase and down the hall. She added a little brightness for good measure.

“There’s lasagna if you want some!” she called. “It’s homemade!”

There was a pause. A few seconds of silence.

Then came his reply—muffled, distant, but clear enough to hear.

“Not hungry.”

(Y/n) stood there for a moment longer, hand resting on the stair rail like she'd hoped maybe he’d change his mind. But nothing followed. No door opening, no footsteps. Just those two words, lingering in the quiet like a kicked-up puff of dust.

Her chest ached.

She had been so sure the offer would draw him out—maybe not entirely, but at least enough to spark a flicker of something close to joy. But his voice had been so sullen. So small. And the thought of Osamu not even having the energy to enjoy the one thing that had always brought him peace made something inside her quietly splinter.

Her bottom lip wobbled as she padded back into the living room.

“He’s not hungry,” she said softly.

And at that, nobody had anything witty to say.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Nobody saw or heard from Osamu that entire evening.

The house felt off without him, like a puzzle missing its final piece. There was nobody for (y/n) to have her usual, chit chat and gossip debriefs with. Nobody to bounce off Suna’s dry quips and witty remarks. Nobody to keep Atsumu in check.

And speaking of Atsumu... He had been restless all night. Fidgeting with his phone, tapping his foot, staring blankly at the TV without really paying attention to those around him. He had barely spoken since dinner, aside from the occasional grunt or muttered response. It was odd enough seeing Osamu so glum. But to see Atsumu—the loud twin who was always busting with energy—like this, was rather jarring.

And yet, the evening dragged on. Things kept moving. Only Osamu’s door stayed shut the entire time.

The next time (y/n) heard from him, it was in the dead of night—although, at first, she thought she might have been dreaming.

A faint, muffled sound stirred her awake.

She blinked against the darkness, heart thudding as she lay still, listening. At first, there was nothing. Just the soft rustle of her curtains in the breeze and the occasional groan of the house settling.

Then she heard it again.

Quick, shallow breaths. Shuddering, uneven. Like someone trying—and failing—to stay quiet.

Her breath caught. She sat up slowly, careful not to rustle the sheets, and held still, straining her ears.

Another stifled sound broke the silence.

She didn’t move as her chest tightened with something heavy and uncertain. She knew that sound. But to hear it from Osamu...

She sank back against her pillow, lips parted in disbelief, heart aching at the sound. Her mind scrambled. What was she supposed to do? Leave him be? Pretend she hadn’t heard?

Her thoughts raced, trying to grasp at possibilities. What could’ve happened? What was heavy enough to bring him to this?

And then Atsumu’s voice echoed back to her from earlier. “Geez, what, did ya get dumped or somethin’?”

She winced. Because, what if...?

A sharp exhale left her lips as she stared up at her ceiling, fingers twisting in the bedsheet. Should she go to him? Would he even want her there?

Osamu wasn’t the type to seek comfort. He was the type to bear it all in silence. To wipe his face, take a deep breath, and pretend nothing happened.

Maybe he wanted privacy. Maybe he needed it. Maybe she should let him be.

But how long had he been alone like this?

If she were the one hurting—heart split open, chest hollow—she’d want someone. A distraction. A quiet voice in the dark telling her that everything would be okay, even if it didn’t feel like it ever could be again. Someone to reassure her it wasn’t her fault. That she made the right call. That it simply wasn’t meant to be—and better things were still coming.

Still, she wasn’t even sure that was the reason. For all she knew, it could’ve been something else entirely. Work. Studies. Life. Anything.

But then came another broken sob—barely there, but enough.

And that was all it took.

She slipped out of bed. Barefoot and silent, she crept out into the hall, pausing briefly outside her door. Osamu’s room was the next one over, a soft glow pooling from beneath the door.

She hesitated for only a moment.

Then, gently, she raised her hand.

Knock, knock.

There was a pause where she thought he might not answer.

So, as gently as she could, she murmured, “It’s just me.”

She stood still in the dim hallway, subconsciously counting the seconds as they slipped by. The silence made her feel small.

Behind her, moonlight spilled faintly from her bedroom window, casting pale stripes across the wooden floor, turning her sheer curtains a ghostly shade of blue. A few doors down, she could hear the low hum of a fan coming from Atsumu’s room. Upstairs in the loft, everything was perfectly still. Suna must’ve fallen asleep hours ago.

She waited a moment longer. Then she heard shuffling, followed by soft rustle of bedsheets and faint creak of floorboards.

She braced herself, fiddling with the cuff of her pyjamas. Anxiety coiled in her stomach. Would he send her away? Perhaps she had overstepped his boundaries after all.

She didn't have much time to ponder before the handle creaked.

The door crept open just an inch. Just enough for her to see a tired pair of red-rimmed eyes peeking through the gap.

Her heart broke all over again.

She tilted her head, offering the smallest, softest smile. “…Can I come in?” Her voice was barely above a whisper—like anything louder might send him retreating behind the door again.

Osamu stood there, sniffled quietly, and rubbed his knuckles against one exhausted eye.

She didn’t know if she was imposing. Didn’t know if he truly wanted company or just didn’t have the strength to say no. But the thought of him curled up in the dark, trying to fall apart quietly… It made her chest ache.

If it were her, she’d want someone there. So maybe—just maybe—he wanted the same.

He didn’t say anything. Just inhaled sharply, then nodded. A small, tired nod, as he eventually stepped aside.

(Y/n) slipped past him, padding softly into the room. She settled onto the edge of his bed, hands loosely clasped in her lap, waiting.

The air inside was thick.

Not just from the heat lingering under the covers. Not just from the faint scent of laundry detergent and cologne, but from the weight of everything left unsaid. She debated how to begin—whether she should speak first, or let him.

Usually, words came easy. But now, she felt oddly self-conscious. She’d never been alone in Osamu’s room before—not like this. Not alone. And certainly not under these circumstances. It felt intimate. Not in a romantic way, but in the way that meant something could be laid bare here. If he let her, of course.

The mattress dipped slightly beside her as he sat down.

She shifted—just enough for her thigh to brush his. He looked stiff, his posture tight like he’d been frozen that way for hours. She opened her mouth, searching for a gentle way to break the silence, but he beat her to it.

“…Ya didn't come in here to ask for a midnight snack, did ya?”

There was a split second where his comment caught her off-m guard. Then, when it clicked, she huffed lightly through her nose.

Of course he’d try to ease the tension with a joke—try to make it feel less heavy than it was. Something about it felt bittersweet. He was trying, bless him, and that gave her hope. Maybe she could reach him after all.

“No,” she murmured, a faint smile curling her lips. “Not this time.”

He cracked a smile, too. Small and fleeting. Gone almost as quickly as it came.

Tension lingered in the air, along with all the questions she wanted to ask. In the end, she chose the simplest question of all.

"What’s wrong?”

She didn’t try to hide the worry settling over her features, nor did the miss the sharp look of sorrow that settled on his.

“I’m worried about you, ‘Samu," she added softly, hoping to coax him.

Osamu stilled as though hearing her admission had struck something inside of him.

For a moment, it looked like he might say nothing. But she didn't miss the way his shoulders stiffened, the way his breath caught as if he was holding something in—something that threatened to burst out whether he wanted it to or not. But then came a slow exhale as Osamu seemed to gather his thoughts, and himself.

“I know,” he muttered. “I know you are. I'm sorry."

He ran a hand through his messy, sleep-tousled hair, fingers raking harshly through the strands before his shoulders sagged.

His gaze dropped to the floor—like eye contact was suddenly too much to bear. (Y/n) wondered if it had something to do with the flicker of shame that passed across his features.

"My girlfriend broke up with me."

(Y/n) froze. For a moment, shock robbed her of breath.

Shit.

So she’d been right, after all.

Her jaw clenched. Her brows drew together in a deep, immediate frown.

That stupid, big-mouth, tactless fool.

She was going to smack Atsumu the next time she saw him. Square in the chest. Maybe twice. Potentially thrice.

It all made sense now. Why Osamu had come home so quiet. Why he had barely looked at them. Why he had shut himself in his room and not wanted to talk about it.

Because why relive something so awful when living it once had already ripped your heart out?

Sorrow crept in, curling tightly in her chest, followed by a flush of anger that burned hot and fast.

Goddamn it, Atsumu.

Could he have picked anything worse to joke about?

And maybe the rage was showing on her face, or maybe Osamu could just feel it radiating off her—because before she could launch into the fully loaded rant she had locked and ready, he cut in.

"I know what yer thinkin' and it's fine. He didn't know. He didn't mean it."

Her eyes lifted to his face, his voice pulling her back to the moment. She tried to read him—tried to tell whether he was being sincere or just covering for his brother, as always. But when his steely gaze met hers with the same quiet steadiness she knew so well, she let herself believe him.

She exhaled through her nose, the tension in her shoulders slowly easing. Maybe he was right. Maybe now wasn’t the time to argue about Atsumu’s horrendous people skills.

“Why?” she asked, not needing to elaborate.

The question had been on her tongue the second he announced the breakup. If it had left him this broken—if it had warranted this much grief—it couldn’t have been mutual. It had to be against his will.

And that’s what she couldn’t wrap her head around.

Because who in their right mind would willingly choose to leave Osamu Miya?

He was funny. Smart. Thoughtful. Sweet. A great cook, for god’s sake. Who would fumble that?

She almost said it out loud. But then she caught the look on his face. He looked both pained and resigned, but it was the sheer exhaustion swimming behind his eyes that made her think he had already wracked his brain for hours about that exact question, too.

So, not wanting to add salt to the wound, she swallowed her words down.

Osamu gave a weak shrug.

“Dunno,” he croaked. The words were hoarse, raw. His expression crumpled like a wound was being reopened. “Said we lost our spark, or somethin’.”

(Y/n)’s brows drew together, her chest tight with a dozen tangled emotions. Confusion. Frustration. Guilt. Sadness. Helplessness.

What does that even mean?

Lost their spark.

From the outside, they had looked like the perfect couple. Date nights every Thursday. Thoughtful gifts. Holding hands. How could she just walk away from someone like him?

Her gaze dropped to his hands—his fingers curled tight into the fabric of his sweatpants. It was clear he didn’t understand it either.

Softly, she exhaled the only words that felt right. “…I’m so sorry, ’Samu.” She hoped it didn’t sound shallow. She meant every syllable.

Osamu lifted a shoulder, a hollow motion, and lied through his teeth. “S’alright.”

The room quieted again.

Only the ticking of the wall clock filled the space. That, and the slow, uneven breaths of the man beside her.

(Y/n) sat in the silence, heavy and tense but not awkward. Her thoughts drifted—back to her own heartbreak. To the emptiness that followed. The way no words had ever helped. Comforting phrases, advice—they were utterly useless. They entered one ear and left out the other. No one could undo the damage, for there was no mending the part of her that had been ruthlessly torn out.

But there had been one thing that helped, just a little...

The warmth of someone’s arms around her had eased some of the hurt. The steady comfort of being held. Like a safety net—like someone was anchoring her body when her heart wanted to scatter.

And so, she did the same. Quietly, she shifted on the mattress and leaned toward him. He didn’t look at her, but she could feel the tension in his body. She rose to her knees to close the space between them, arms lifting slowly as she wrapped herself around him. Her embrace was both gentle and firm, the same way a mother hen shelters her chick beneath her feathers. A place to hide, to breathe, to be held.

She pulled him in, pressed his head to her chest, and rested her cheek on top of his hair.

For a heartbeat, he didn’t move, caught off guard. But then she heard something. A sharp, hitched breath that escaped his lungs. His shoulders trembled—once, then again. Then came a sob. Then another. Then more, spilling out all at once like a dam crumbling under too much pressure.

(Y/n) tightened her arms around him. Her eyes prickled with her own unshed tears, the weight of his pain sinking into her bones. She hoped, in that moment, that she might be taking some of the pain from him.

She felt his fingers bunch into the back of her shirt, gripping her like she was the only solid thing in the room. Because—in true Miya fashion—Osamu loved deeply, blindly, and without reservation. And that’s what hurt the most: knowing he must have really, truly loved this girl. And now, he had to learn how to unlove her.

(Y/n) squeezed her eyes shut, resting her chin against his head, and rocked him gently—like she might lull the ache into something smaller.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “It’ll be okay.”

And for the first time that night, it felt like he might believe her.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Moments later, the sobs began to slow. Little by little, his breathing steadied. His grip on her shirt loosened.

But Osamu didn’t move, so neither did she.

She kept holding him, one arm firm around his back, the other slowly combing through his hair. Her touch remained unhurried as she felt the warmth of him slowly return—less tense, less strained. The weight of him against her was solid. Heavy, but not in a way that burdened her.

Osamu exhaled, long and tired, his forehead still resting against her shoulder. He wasn’t crying anymore, but there was an emptiness in the way he sat. Hollowed out by everything he’d kept inside, like an empty shell.

Her voice was soft when it finally came. “Do you need anything?”

Osamu let out a slow, shaky breath in response. His shoulders lifted in a weak shrug. “Dunno." He didn’t sound sad anymore, if not just exhausted. A deep kind of tired that wasn’t just from crying. "But this is nice," he added.

(Y/n) smiled, happy to have been able to help. "You'd do the same for me," she replied, giving his back a gentle pat.

At last, he pulled away and rubbed at his eyes. A small smile crept onto his face. And despite the redness, the puffiness, the exhaustion still written all over his features, the shape of it—the familiar curve of his lips—made him look like himself again.

"I would."

Something loosened in her chest. Something warm, something light, as she watched the brightness slowly return to his eyes. His gaze wasn’t so dull now. The grey looked softer, calmer. The same way a sky clears up after a storm.

Without thinking, she reached out, brushing back the messy strands of hair that had fallen into his face. He let her, scrunching his nose when she swiped at a stray eyelash on his cheek. She was fussing, she realised, as Osamu began weakly swatting her hand away.

"Yer remindin' me of Ma."

“Sorry,” she murmured with a sheepish smile.

Osamu chuckled at that. Then, took a deep breath, the way one does when they're trying psyche themselves up for something.

"About that lasagna."

(Y/n) perked up. This was a good sign.

They padded downstairs together. She had no idea what time it was anymore, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that Osamu had finally regained his appetite—and that thought made her so happy, she even celebrated by helping herself to the leftover store-bought cake in the fridge.

The soft glow of the kitchen greeted them.

The ait felt lighter here, far less oppressing than how Osamu's room had felt, but even still. (Y/n) didn’t miss the way his eyes went glassy as he stared at the food spinning in the microwave. She knew that feeling. The sudden, quiet waves of grief that could crash over her without warning. The emotional whiplash that came with getting over a heartbreak.

She rubbed his back gently.

Osamu reached for her and pulled her into a side hug, his chin resting lightly atop her head as they stood shoulder to shoulder.

“Thanks, (y/n),” he murmured, sniffling.

“Anytime, ’Samu,” she said, leaning into him just a little more.

The microwave dinged.

They sat down and ate together in peaceful silence.

[creaseevans]

Jujutsu Kaisen Headcanons - Choso Kamo

Choso's the kind of guy...

SFW:

Choso is a nice guy. No, he’s not the “nice” guy who’s actually a dick and labels himself as a “nice” guy so he can feel entitled to kindness and attention. He’s the actual type of nice guy; kind out of the goodness of his heart, has no issue stepping in at the right moment to do someone a solid, and keeps to himself often enough that he can easily remain  unnoticed until he does just the perfect thing to stand out and outshine everyone else in the vicinity. Altruism just exudes from every inch of him like rays of light.

Choso is the type of guy to become friends with literally everyone. Sure, people don’t often approach him because of his (contrarily) intimidating demeanour and appearance. But once he opens his mouth or makes a good impression, people naturally flock to him. He fills many roles in people’s lives: the protective brother, a gentle father-figure to his nieces and nephews, a dutiful and reliable coworker, and most of all, a doting and committed friend. He is the friend of all friends to you, of course, whom he met months ago and signed his heart heart away at first impression. Not that anyone could know. 

He’s extremely good at hiding his feelings. Very professional. Very coherent and organized and put together. It’s actually a piss-off because you can’t gauge whether he feels anything beyond friendship for you at all. You go out of your way to look and smell nice around him; you wear some of your most revealing or fitted outfits when you meet up lately, whether it’s just the two of you hanging out or in a group of friends. He usually avoids looking at you when your cleavage is out or the exact shape of your body is eligible from miles away. Everyone can tell you feel some way about him except for him, apparently. He’s either the biggest airhead on planet Earth or, unfortunately, just not attracted to you at all.

He has an amazing singing voice; surprisingly soft and gentle for how deep it is, but it has that classic Choso boom to it when he hits certain notes.

He’s totally not the type to sing in front of anyone. You only found out cause you heard him drunkenly doing it one time in the washroom at a bar when he thought nobody else was in earshot.

Choso’s a big car guy. He loves cars and motorcycles. He knows the make and model of every single one out there as well as random obscure facts about each. He spends his down time doing mechanic work on second hand vehicles that collect on his driveway up to half a dozen. You dropped by his place once and found him shamelessly shirtless underneath a rusty old sedan, sweaty and greasy and muscular as hell??? Like, hello, obliques!

(That’s part of how you met him, actually: your car had a flat tire and you had no idea you were driving around on it like that. You stopped to fill gas and he was at the pump next to yours. He came over cautiously, pointed it out to you from a safe distance (so as not to creep you out) and offered to change it for you while you waited inside (it was nighttime). He also paid for your full tank without your knowledge and left his contact on a post-it stuck to your window, “in case of any future car emergencies.”)

He’s so shy that he turned red all over when he rolled out from under the car and saw you gawking.

Choso doesn’t talk much; he’s a listener. He can spend so long without saying a word that sometimes you’re not sure he’s even in the same room. But you always know his attention is focused on you because…

Choso rarely blinks, and he makes some of the most intense, unwavering eye contact you’ve ever personally seen. The guy doesn’t just look at people—he sees through them. It’s pretty freaky, honestly. You have to pause mid-conversation from time to time just to break away from the ferocity of it.

The reason people find him so intimidating from afar is because he has major resting bitch face (see point 2). In fact, it’s beyond resting bitch face. It's a more morbid bitch face. He just looks so miserable and disinterested and borderline exhausted, and anytime he isn’t fully paying attention to his features they fall into that half-lidded, tired, downturned and offended expression. But as soon as you catch his attention his chocolatey eyes always light up and crinkle at the outer corners like he’s been waiting an eternity just for you to show up.

Choso’s hair is on the longer side, just past his shoulders, and he has a meticulous routine for it (and a strict one at that): he washes every Sunday, Tuesday, and Friday; oils and deep conditions every Thursday night; and he trims his ends and bangs every three weeks. He also uses a scalp massager and roller. Nothing and no one stops him from following through on his hair rituals.

He doesn’t like to be touched by people he isn’t close with or without consent, and he doesn’t touch others without their consent, either. The first time he watched you cry (you’d just gone through a breakup and you had only known Choso for a couple of weeks at that point) he walked up to you, paused, and asked, “Is it okay if I hold you?” (You quickly agreed, needing desperately to receive some type of reassurance.)

He’s deathly touch-deprived; you could tell right away once he hugged you that first time. You’re reminded of it every instance he hugs or makes physical contact with you even now. The way he holds you in place and digs his fingertips into your frame gives you chills, quite frankly. And how his big, warm, rough hands rub up and down along your back as if they’re memorizing every bone and shape would be otherwise inappropriate for just a “friendly” hug if you didn’t know better how harmless and well-intentioned he truly is. You also suppose it makes sense for how rarely he touches people or lets himself be touched.

He’s a terrible texter. He doesn’t respond for hours and he almost never initiates the conversation. At first you thought he just didn’t like you or want to talk to you, but his efforts to see you in person and how great of a friend he is off the screen tells you otherwise. You slowly realize how infrequently he uses his phone and how bad he is with technology overall, which makes no sense because…

Choso is a teacher. At a public school. To a class of ten year olds. That’s his full-time job.

His favourite colour is purple.

He has a vitamin D and B12 deficiency. Also low on iron. Has cavernous dark circles under his incredibly deep, brown eyes.

Choso has a collection of plushies and teddy bears on his entryway shelf. It started with the first time a student gifted him one and it grew to what it is now. He also keeps every single card he ever gets from anyone.

His pet peeve is when people chew gum or eat really loud. He also doesn’t like using public toilets. Again, he is an elementary school teacher. The man can hold his bowels and bladder for hours and not bat an eye.

He loves children, which makes no sense because he hates loud sounds and germs and bacteria and messes and anything high-energy.

He’s a picky eater. He knows what he likes (chicken, fish, eggs and grains) and he sticks to it. Getting him to eat vegetables is like pulling teeth out of a shark’s mouth. He says red meat makes him nauseous.

His eyes are very sensitive to light, especially the sun. He has an assortment of hats and baseball caps. His favourite is the one you got him for his birthday. He wears it all the time.

It takes nearly a year of flirting and waiting for him to get the clue until you get tired of the suspense and lose your patience. Over a casual cup of coffee one morning, you lean forward and give him a deadpan stare and ask, “You realize I’m into you, right?” Choso chokes on his coffee (black; no cream or sugar) and doesn’t stop for almost five minutes.

His love language is touch (surprisingly enough) and acts of service. He loves doing things that would make you smile without your ever realizing that you needed someone to. Since you began dating, he’s always been there during lunch hour to share a home cooked meal with you, and he dutifully drives you to and from work even though you both live and work in different places. You don’t really get to drive your car anymore unless you’re running errands or going out somewhere Choso won’t be.

He’s a big holder: your hand, your fingers, your arm, your waist…as long as he’s touching you, all is well and he’s more than content. He loves walking into any room and everyone immediately knows that he’s all yours.

He’s terrible at planning “real” dates and at giving gifts. Like, his gifts don’t totally suck, but they’re ultimately not the things you point out liking or wanting. But this is forgiven because he comes through on literally everything else. It just means you get to plan the dates, because he always agrees and follows through on everything with a big smile on his face.

He loves giving you flowers. He gets them randomly on the most mundane of occasions. Saturday morning breakfast together? A bouquet of flowers waiting for you at the kitchen counter. Got off work early? Choso comes and picks you up with an assortment of blooms in the passenger side seat. He just knows how to make the most ordinary moments feel incredibly special.

When you ask him when he started liking you, he says, “I think I was in love with you since the moment I saw you.” In disbelief, you ask him why it took so long for him to act on it, and he tells you he could never be sure. He didn’t want to “burden you with his feelings because you deserve so much better.” As if that even exists? 

NSFW:

Choso likes to tease and he loves foreplay. It’s not even just you he’s teasing—it’s just as much himself, if not more so. He teeters and beats around the bush to the extent that you’ve shared fully clothed orgasms together with you riding his thigh with his fingers bruising your hips or him grinding into you from behind while you’re leaned over against something, but you haven’t come close to actually having sex. It’s been a couple of months and you’re starting to suspect something is up—not that it isn’t incredible sexy to sway and rub back and forth against each other for the better part of an hour while he grunts and whispers horrendously downbad munitions in your ear. But, like, come on now. You need to see the man’s dick, at the very least. You can tell it’s more than sizeable, so it makes no sense to you why he’s hellbent on keeping it hidden away.

This all comes to a climax during one fateful sleepover where you spend the night waiting for the first ray of light to peek through his curtains. Then, you get to act out a plan to wake him up with the best head of his damned life.

Choso’s a pretty deep sleeper, so it takes a good bit of time before his eyes fly open, but he starts sighing and whining his hips against you mere seconds into the act.

Cut; thick and veiny. Six inches but the girth is more distracting than the length. Darker skin around the shaft and balls and his head is a dark pinky-mauve. He keeps it trimmed but never clean shaves it off. 

When he does wake, his eyes are the widest you’ve ever seen in a mixture of shock, panic, and disbelief (and some pleasure, too). He stutters something about how you don’t have to do this for him, and you lift away just enough to ask, “Do you really want me to stop?” He shakes his head furiously. You tease him a bunch about why he’s been hiding such a pretty dick from you, slobbering and sucking generously all the while. And at the last moment, just as his balls tighten and his hips jerk and his fingers clutch your face in place around the base of his length, he whispers a very quiet and rushed “I’ve never had sex before.”

Tastes salty-sweet; very white and runny. Gets super sensitive when he comes and you have to give him a break.

Once you learn that he’s a virgin, it all makes much more sense: how skittish he gets when you touch, how his breaths come heavy and quick one after another, how he grabs you like you’re sand running out from within his fists by the second, how dazed and overwhelmed he appears whenever you’re both in the heat of the moment. It’s always felt like he’s never experienced intimacy before and been starved for it; now you know it’s really the case. When you ask him how he’s never been in intimate with anyone before, he explains that he “was waiting for the right person.”

Choso is allergic to latex and you both don’t like the feeling of condoms so you get a birth control shot to make things easier, at least for the first little bit.

Because he’s new to it, Choso has quite the sex drive—not that you’re complaining. He’s ready to go at any given moment and gets incredibly worked up over the smallest things. Even seeing your bare arms gets him blushing and bricked, and God forbid you wear shorts or skirts around him. If you thought he couldn’t keep his hands to himself before, now is a whole new ballgame.

His favourite part of your body is your legs. He also kisses your feet and ankles often enough that you suspect he might enjoy a footjob. 

You’re right, and he does.

His favourite position is cowgirl; he loves having you in power because one: he knows he can’t hurt you as easily as when he’s on top and two: he just fucking loves how good you look, thighs spread against him, stomach rippling with every grind, tits bouncing against his face and mouth, taunting him to catch them with his teeth and hands. He loves holding you against him in a bone-crushing hug while he fucks up into your warm, wet cunt and makes you call his name repeatedly as you come.

He’s not loud until he’s close, but when he is close he’s vocal enough to be heard through the walls. He doesn’t care who hears him practically spelling your name through his grunts and moans or who catches him saying the things he does in the heat of the moment. “Am I a good boy, Mommy? I won’t come until you tell me how good I am—tell me I’m a good boy, Mommy—tell me how good my cock feels, tell me how much you want my cum in you, tell me my cock belongs to you—please, Mommy, please, please, please…”

You’re not used to taking up the “dom” role, but he makes it quite hot. The kink also isn’t as weird because he is a fully grown, middle-aged man. He just wants you to lead; direct him, order him, reward him and even punish him. 

In all his perfect poise, Choso does have one toxic trait, and you only see it once in a blue moon since he never loses his cool. But if you ever get into a disagreement with each other where he actually becomes angry, Choso does use his size and strength against you in the bedroom. He takes it out on you in ways that leave you gasping and clawing and trembling and riddled with shame. He has no problem punishing you, either, and it usually consists of making you say and do things that would be otherwise concerning to the average set of eyes and ears. You once batted your eyes a little too much and twirled your hair at your server during a date to see if it would score you a free drink. In retrospect, you should have clearly explained the plan to your boyfriend beforehand, because Choso did not take it well. “You need to be put in your place, don’t you? It’s been too long since someone reminded you of where you belong. Don’t get uppity with me, understand? I fucking love you, and I’ll do whatever I have to do to remind you that this isn’t a fucking joke. Behave yourself. Be a good girl—that’s it, there’s my well-behaved princess, there you go. Take it in deeper—hold your breath, come on, you can do it—hey, eyes up here, keep them on me. Did I say you could look away? Hm? Did I tell you you could stop? You don’t believe me, do you? That I’ll fuck the attitude right out of your pretty little head? I’ll drill it into you until you bleed on my cock. You don’t mind that, do you, princess? You knew what you were getting into when you started all this. Couldn’t just let us have a simple dinner together, could you? You had to go and start flirting with the server, of all people—fuck’s sake, get up on those pretty feet—turn around and bend over, show me what I wanna see…yeah, fuck you, I knew it. Not even wearing underwear and flirting with other guys? Do I look like a fucking joke to you? Did you get this wet for him? Shut up, not a word besides ‘yes’ or ‘no’ out of you, okay? Not a single, fucking, syllable, or I’ll give you something to cry about.”

You quickly fall head over heels for this side of him, but you experience it so rarely that you get withdrawals. This ends in a vicious cycle of you trying to instigate and his patience running thinner each time, to the point that you find him crying one day over your supposedly “inevitable breakup.” That’s when you explain that you have no real plans to leave him, nor are you looking for anyone else. Once he learns that you did it all to get him to roughhouse you, he’s left slack jawed and pensive for nearly an hour with no response. 

He lets you pick fights over petty shit after that. Hell, even he starts getting an attitude with you over small things, like what you’re wearing or your dating history or anytime a guy even glances your way. The only part that makes any of it okay is because you both check in consistently to ensure that it is still an act and neither of you seriously feels or behaves this way otherwise.

For a school teacher, Choso has one of the gnarliest vocabularies in the bedroom, and he likes to fuck downright nasty. We’re talking hair ripping, bruising, biting, spitting in each other’s mouths, tying up and down, blindfolds, collars and leashes, exhibitionism—the man literally licked his cum out of you once or twice and jerked off while he made you come for him again. He’s a completely different person when he’s horny, and the harmony between how much he loves to dominate versus how much he also enjoys being submissive always keeps things fresh and exciting.

While he loves you in lingerie and costumes, he has no problem dressing up, either. And yes, while he’s incredibly sexy when he cosplays your favourite character or a serial killer or some other psychotic freak, he’s just as delectable when he puts on the maid outfit, or the other slutty, clearly feminine lingerie you coax him into.

Yes, he let you put one in him. A man’s whimpers have never sounded so pretty.

[ooooo-mcyt]

Do you guys ever think about how much the first season someone was in seems to impact them going forward?

Last Life is a season where teams were shaky, uncertain. Both because of the rule that red names were forced to leave their teams and the introduction of the boogeyman curse. This gave a unique sense of isolated individualism to the season. In Last Life, more than any other season, you couldn't rely on anyone except yourself. This season is also the one where we saw the introduction of Pearl, Lizzie, and Mumbo.

Pearl, I'd say, is the one who was least impacted by this. Her team was very stable throughout Last Life. They exchanged lives and stuck close together. Scott was only red for about half a session before Pearl was, so she never really felt the team instability aspect like the others did. This, unfortunately, set Pearl up to fall harder in the Double Life, given she was unused to the isolation that Last Life theoretically could have prepared her for.

You see the effects more clearly in Mumbo and Lizzie.

Lizzie's team was torn apart in Last Life. First one of her teammates betrayed the other due to the Boogeyman curse, leading to everything Lizzie had burning, and then Lizzie lost the rest of her team anyways when she turned red. So, in Secret Life she isolates a lot, and she struggles, with trusting people, with being part of a team, with seeing anything as permanent.

Mumbo is very similar. The Southlands were a mess, cracking and reforming and falling apart all over again throughout Last Life. Mumbo was surrounded by people, and yet friend turned into foe so easily with the boogeyman curse or a teammate turning red (and then they could come back and do it all again). Is it any wonder, then, that he's paranoid now? That he often feels like the ground is going to fall out beneath him at any moment?

Then we have Secret Life, the season that really introduced Gem. I'd argue that Secret Life was a season of uncertainty and luck. Skill and tactic mattered, of course, but one bad task or unfortunate bit of damage could leave even the best players unable to do anything to save themselves. In this season, you couldn't just use your skill to recover from a stroke of bad luck.

Gem knows this better than anyone. I've said it before, but I think the fight with Grian was the downfall of Gem and The Scott's. Gem was taken off guard once and she was never able to recover from it. This made worse by the fact that it ended with a 2v1- not a fair fight, but two people teaming up to kill her as quickly as they could. Going into Wild Life, Gem very naturally grew to resent and reject a lot of what the previous season was for her. She derides the idea of sacrificing yourself, she loathes the idea of an unfair fight, she insists on being in control, on letting luck dictate as little as possible.

It's just fascinating to me how people tend to engage with and react to the unique mechanics of the season they started with going forward.

[nicotachi]

my clumsy review aka my unorganized thoughts on Hit New Yuri Game "Love Curse: Find Your Soulmate"! you can buy it on steam here

cyn and i spent the past week or so playing through all 10 endings and i just wanted a place to write down all my thoughts. i feel like i have a Lot to say and barely anyone else to tell so i'm going to attempt to rein it in

under the cut is nothing but spoilers so tread at your own risk! also: i do not hate any ship, but if you are averse to ship hate you may not want to read any of my criticisms!

PLOT SUMMARY

you play as a 20 year-old lesbian (named selene yan by default) navigating her transition from college into the workforce. however, you are suddenly informed of a curse that will kill you in one year's time—the only way to lift this curse is to find your true soulmate (yay a girl) before then.

there are currently 4 romanceable options: your cute childhood-friend-turned-girl-next-door, your classmate's mysterious twin sister, your reliable upperclassman, and your intimidating boss at your internship. who will you choose??? 😳

OVERALL

wow. what a game!!! i have limited experience with visual novels as most of them have been linear. all the otome games i've played were written for straight female audiences (with the exception of kang jaehee of mystic messenger) and designed for mobile. this was my first foray into an honest to goodness Sit In Front Of Computer And Pick Your Girlfriend game, and this time for actual lesbians! and i liked it a lot! what stuck out to me with this game—and keep in mind my limited experience here—is that ALL the endings felt like legitimate endings, even the bad ones. for some characters, the bad endings even felt preferable! this made me feel respected as a reader/player, and gave me a sense of agency in that i was able to choose whatever ending i liked without feeling like other endings were more 'correct'. and boy, did i enjoy some endings much more than others.

there are two curious things about the game.

the first one is a unique mechanic. each character has two meters: an affection meter, and a ??? meter. i thought the affection meter seemed pretty straightforward: get the affection up and get the happy ending. however, this was not so simple for 3 out of the 4 romanceable characters with the second meter in question. if the ??? value reaches a certain number, this may trigger the bad ending for that character. while the ??? value is never outright explained, it seems to represent something different for each character.

the second thing that stuck out to me was that half of the characters' routes directly relate to the lore behind the curse. honestly, it took me a while to even remember the title of the game because the 'curse' part seemed irrelevant to me with my preferred route. while two of the romanceable characters' routes explain the origins of the curse and why you have it, the other two are completely independent stories that could live in a vacuum.

this is likely not the first time this has happened as this was a feature in mystic messenger as well; zen/jaehee/yoosung were labeled 'casual story' while jumin and 707 were labeled 'deep story'. however, it's still an interesting choice as i believe overarching plot relevance influenced the characters which influenced how much i liked each character and/or their route.

which brings me to the main reason i even started this review: RANKINGS. yes, i wanted to rank each ending, explain why i liked them, why i disliked them, and what i think they could have done differently. this is where my opinions will become Opinions so dread carefully (not a typo).

very conveniently, i saw this post which brought me this chart, which i will use to grade each ending:

and now...the rankings!!!

first, i will start with ranking much i liked each character. this is based on writing/design/overall vibes and enjoyment:

iris (by a fuckin MILE omg)

nyx

victoria

eleanor

next, here is the order in which i played so you can have some more context with each route's review:

Iris BE

Iris HE

Victoria HE

Victoria BE

Nyx BE

Nyx HE

Eleanor BE

Eleanor HE

True End

now, here is how i rank each route. this is mainly based on writing and enjoyment:

9. Eleanor HE

Score: ⭐

i'm so sorry eleanor fans. personally i think eleanor was done dirty. tragically, her pre-awakening chemistry with selene is very cute. she's the closest to a classmate that selene has out of all of her love interests, and therefore the closest in maturity level. their banter reminds me of like idk. rory and jess from gilmore girls. basically two people who feel comfortable riffing off of the other. and this is no coincidence; they mention several times how they feel they have known each other for years.

which is a shame, because the route starts going downhill after eleanor's memories are reawakened, which is pretty early on. her personality shifts and it no longer becomes selene x eleanor, but selene x someone who thinks she's jianghe. everything we know about eleanor is thrown out the window in favor of her becoming 'jianghe', whom we barely know anything about.

and i think that's one of the major issues: we never do learn much about jianghe. not in her HE, BE, or even the true end. we don't even get a sprite! how are we supposed to care about jianghe if we barely know her relationship with fuguang? was jianghe also a confident perfectionist like eleanor? was she just as playful? why do we so easily accept that jianghe = eleanor, when in other routes we make it a point that chimei =/= nyx and fuguang =/= selene?

sure, there are hints that eleanor has been controlling since before her memories awakened, but that's still related to jianghe as it's a result of the spirits she pissed off. maybe it would have felt better if being controlling were a core part of her personality, the way iris and nyx's flaws feel more baked into their characters (which is why i thought iris' house arrest was way more interesting but anyways).

what would i do differently? i honestly would have emphasized an internal struggle in which eleanor doesn't know if she wants to continue being jianghe—someone paralyzed by paranoia, fear, and regret—and instead live as eleanor, who respects selene as a fellow intellectual. the house arrest arc dragged on for wayyyy too long. it honestly made me root for nyx to come break us free. instead, what happens is we get a rather bland fairytale ending of us overcoming nyx and living happily ever after.

also, i find it a little unsettling that we never find out eleanor has been tracking us, especially since i read someone on twitter suggest she has been tracking us THROUGH THE SMART WATCH SHE GAVE US IN THE COMMON ROUTE!!! which honestly is a crazy cool detail

8. Victoria HE

Score: ⭐

(WARNING: i do not hate this ship but i can see how you might interpret this as ship hate, so beware)

i like selene and i think i like victoria (even though i wasn't a fan of her routes), but i think selene and victoria have negative chemistry. not a single unit of rizz together. 1+1=0. watching their mutual attraction unfold felt like watching one of those slow trash compactor videos. two cars backing into each other in a parking lot. just something very unpleasant that i didn't want to keep seeing, yet kept reading in hopes of being swayed—and it never happened.

TO BE CLEAR!!! this is NOT because i hate either character and not because of their age gap or boss/employee dynamic. my number one ship rn is gan/qing for god's sake which is both of those. and i think it's BECAUSE i love gan/qing and office romance that i was so put off by their development.

victoria is presented as this cold and intimidating boss who scares selene during her internship interview. and she just...becomes very soft and caring after that? she just starts hanging out with selene like she's on her level and texting her like a friend? to me, it felt like the writers wanted to ignore their power imbalance until they couldn't ignore it anymore, which felt worse imho. what's the point in even making them boss and employee if you can't lean into the forbidden love territory!!!

not to mention, the conflict in both routes is just...i feel like it doesn't do her character justice? victoria is this cold woman who has her own young subsidiary under the qi group, treats rosalie like an annoying cousin, but is powerless to go against them at the same time?

and when she does finally go against them, it feels...idk, too easy. selene barely even does anything honestly, victoria solves it herself. and she just sells all her shares for a cute intern she just met??? even her affection for us feels too 'easy'. i wanted it to come with more strings i think...the writing and reasoning just felt way too disjointed for me.

what would i do differently? for one, i think i would lean into the 'problematic' aspect more. this is the toxic yuri game for a reason!!

i would have preferred if victoria were engaged from DAY ONE. chapter 0 baby. it would have made her 'innocent' flirting with us all the more scandalous in hindsight and made us rethink her green flag status.

i also would have amped up their boss/employee dynamic with them both knowing it's a line they shouldn't cross (and do). for example, more subtle gestures from victoria under the guise of Work. hands brushing over paperwork, a hesitant pat on the shoulder, idk ANYTHING!!! GIVE ME SOME PRIDE & PREJUDICE!!! IN FACT JUST REBRAND GAN/QING AND HAND IT TO ME ON A SILVER PLATTER. it was a mistake to have so much of their flirting over text because it feels both out of character and kinda just? ick? idek. it would have been funnier if victoria were a super dry texter but gave mixed signals in person.

7. Eleanor BE

Score: ⭐

i gave this one more points because eleanor actually dies. NOT because i hate eleanor, but because actions have consequences and her death is the consequence of her and phoenix keeping selene in the dark and not respecting her agency.

however, it still has the flaw of the incredibly long house arrest arc, as well as something that bothered me: this eleanor feels incredibly vindicated by her actions, even in death. first it was the flower pot incident, then it was tracking selene and being able to die for her in the forest.

what would i do differently? well for one, i think eleanor should have had regrets in her dying moments. it would have been better if she had that final realization that hey, maybe controlling every aspect of selene's life, memorizing her schedule, and viewing her movements 24/7 IS bad and the reason she's dead. unfortunately, she's still too stuck on fulfilling jianghe's wishes and basically dies as jianghe.

6. Victoria BE

Score: ⭐⭐

i share the same gripes with her HE. however, i rate her BE higher because the ending is actually very interesting to me. i liked the line about selene realizing victoria and rosalie are still cut from the same cloth, that at the end of the day victoria will lean on materialism and privilege to keep selene at her side. the symbolism of selene kissing the ring instead of victoria herself is RAW AF. especially when contrasted with her HE cg (kissing the ring that belongs to another woman vs holding the hand wearing selene's ring, the drawn curtains vs open window, etc). really cool of the writers and artists to do that.

what would i do differently? same as her HE criticisms, but especially the bit where i think victoria should have been cheating from the start. i don't think it's unfair as there is evidence to support eleanor has been tracking us since the common route. i do appreciate that all the characters' flaws do show up in the common route/happy endings

5. Nyx BE

Score: ⭐⭐⭐⭐

before this route: oh nyx is just that childhood friend who is a littleeee bit clingy and unsettling but i'm sure she means no harm. i saw her kissing cg in the trailer it's very romantic she's just doing her best

during this route: holy shit she's an evil demon from our past and the reason why we're even cursed to die to begin with?

no real notes. banger story that gave me my first peek into the lore, more music tracks that were great and stellar voice acting from nyx. the backstory reveal and how they met bell was sooo cute. the final scene was raw af with selene being like "no. i'm not going to die with you because i don't want to 💃💃💃" and wanting to bid her ACTUAL LOVED ONES a proper goodbye. metal affff

also, the common cg with chimei lying with fuguang is gorgeous af chimei is literally channeling hu tao there

what would i do differently? well this one's a bit shallow but.....can they redraw fuguang and chimei's sprites please. the cg is so good just make it match

4. Iris HE

Score: ⭐⭐⭐⭐

i LOVE iris but i felt like the outcome of this route felt less deserved when compared to her BE. iris is such a compelling character whose cruel breakup with us was the result of her strong feelings of resentment (and let's be real depression). i NEEDED her to GET INTO her resentment!!! but what happens is that she is literally about to tell us wtf is her problem with her family when she gets interrupted by a phone call. and disappears from work. and we don't see her until a few days later by coincidence. and she begs for us to take her back and we do.

to be honest, i had played her HE second and initially rated it way lower than it is here, but i recently replayed it after the true end and enjoyed it a lot more than i did the first time. while their reconciliation was a little ? to me (see: next entry), their redo date was super cute. i love a good breakup and grovel and reconciliation, and iris giving the date her best was really nice to watch. she had spent all that time in the common route/beginning of her route flirting with us meaninglessly, so it was nice to see her doing it with the actual intent to charm us.

while i had initially disliked the scene in which she spills her feelings and asks us to to take her back when compared with the cafe scene in the BE (peak), i do like it for what it is, and i especially like the part where she politely asks us to not reject her as she doesn't think she can take it at the moment. 😭

the final section with the business trip was kinda meh (victoria, why are you asking iris who is supposedly on a different team and also a newbie to substitute for selene's senior coworker lmao), i do love the implied sex the night before. WE LOVE YOU FADE TO BLACK WE LOVE YOU DISCRETIONARY SHOTS!!! iris said it may take her a while to become intimate with someone (maybe someone who knows chinese can tell me what exactly she meant by 'intimate') but girl it only took you several months to eat her cookie huh?

what would i do differently? see the next entry mostly. but honestly, i would have revealed more about her family and resentment and hate here rather than leaving it up to the BE.

3. Iris BE

Score: ⭐⭐⭐⭐ (Spicy🌶️🌶️🌶️🥵)

if you haven't guessed by now, iris is my favorite character in the whole damn game. her bad ending was actually my first route as i totally fell into the xuejie trap and did everything i could to please her. consequently and to my surprise, i overindulged her and activated her dormant yandere state.

i had some suspicions about her as selene continued to rebuff her attempts to get back together, but i too was caught off-guard when iris decides to ROOFIE AND CHLOROFORM US. OMG. they even get into the weeds with the details of the kidnapping to show how scary the situation is e.g. iris feeding us literal crumbs and water in the dark. girl when can we pee?

but oh my god. that cg. that iconic cg that apparently made the rounds on twitter that i had thankfully avoided getting spoiled by but you know what? if i saw that cg first i'd have bought the game too. the game seems to sell at least part of itself on the idea that everyone has a dark side, but iris' ending takes it up a notch with "everyone has a dark side, and sometimes their dark sides are also sexy." because goddamn iris!!! her whole schtick is being miss perfect who is tired of being perceived as perfect and wants to bare her ugly side too, but sorry xuejie your ugly side is kind of sexy too soooo idk...

this is becoming a hornypost for iris i'm sorry. anyways um what would i do differently? my main gripe is while i commend selene for being much stronger than me, her reasons for continuing to deny iris in the BE vs her reasons for accepting iris in her HE make no sense to me.

the divergence in iris' route happens after the bathroom scene, in which you can either choose to walk in on her phone conversation/cry session (increasing her ??? meter) or try to give her some privacy (increasing her affection meter). interestingly, if you walk in, she will lie and claim she was trying to create a situation in which you two would bump into each other.

in the bad ending, you take her to the cafe where you had your first date and where she also dumped you and she pours her heart out about her family, her insecurities, why she broke up with you.

and you still decide to treat her coldly after that.

i can see how this would make sense, sure. selene is incredibly hurt. iris doesn't get to just hit the undo button because she's feeling regretful one month later. but this also doesn't make sense, because in the happy ending where you DO take her back such a conversation doesn't happen!

what happens in the HE after the divergence is: she stalks you at your social gathering (ironically she doesn't kidnap you in this one), is interrupted by a phone call before she can tell you more about her family, you find out about her family by very nicely asking victoria (simp) to disclose confidential info from iris' personal file, and you randomly bump into iris at school (iris has long since graduated), where she cries and asks you to take her back.

what??

not to mention iris' sudden slip into crazy. hotness aside, when and why does she decide to kidnap us? does she go out and buy some chloroform after eavesdropping on our resignation convo? i'm not opposed to the yandere thing at all, i just needed a little more believable buildup. she goes from completely cold and resentful of being needed to "i want to make you need only me" in the blink of an eye. maybe the writers could have connected it a bit more—maybe her doubling down into the dependable breadwinner role is her rejecting her most honest and imperfect self, realizing her true feelings were what pushed selene, her only love, away.

but anyways. still good tho.

2. Nyx HE

Score: ⭐⭐⭐⭐

being a 'deep route', nyx's route does a good job of being a satisfyingly complete story that fleshes out her character while delving into the lore. the payoff feels good, and i like that the writers don't try to downplay nyx's red flags even after they officially get together. nyx being jealous of their cat that SHE originally took in herself is just as amusing as it is a concern.

what would i do differently? well, my main thing with selene/nyx is that while i do find them cute (as well as fuguang/chimei), i sort of get the sense that selene is partly with nyx because she sees her as her responsibility, much like the way fuguang saw chimei. while i was very impressed by selene's development from being the least interested in nyx (IMHO) in the common route to seeing her as a lover, i think part of me isn't fully convinced that she fully reciprocates nyx's intense feelings. their final cg is soooo romantic though it invokes the shoujo doki doki fr

1. True End

Score: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

holy shit. no notes. the true end appropriately ties everything together. i loved the extra insight into fuguang's personality, the extent of nyx's crimes, as well as more tragic bell moments.

there is NO WAY the writers weren't teasing a lil selene selfcest, because holy shit that cg? with the cheek touch? and selene admiring fuguang's calloused hands which were so unlike her own? and becoming hyperaware of the fact that they are different people who happen to share a soul? there is nooooo fuckin way that she didn't feel a lil something for fuguang. my god.

the idea that selene travels into the past to save her own soul and ends up staying behind to save FUGUANG'S soul is heart-wrenchingly beautiful. and she becomes this wandering traveler who makes sure to protect herself/fuguang's reincarnation for eternity WHILE legitimizing every single route is just. wow!!!

if her curse weren't already broken by the paradox, it would have been broken by her true soulmate literally being the one person who shares her soul. time travel ALWAYS equals yuri. so so good. perhaps an unintentional aesop about loving yourself lmao

what would i do differently? i know the moments after fuguang passes away are supposed to blur, but some actual onscreen interaction with jianghe would have been nice. we literally know the bare minimum about her!!

ok let's wrap it up

you know what it's way past my bedtime so i should just end it here. in closing love curse was such a fun read/play and i enjoyed all the ways in which it wrinkled my brain and made me think about what i liked and what i wanted. i highly recommend you go buy it and support the devs so we can show how much the world wants yuri!!!!!

EDIT: cyn had to remind me of the actual order in which i played the routes so i edited it accordingly LOL. i think it’s actually because i disliked victoria’s happy ending so much that i started playing the bad endings first again

also, i mention 10 endings but only rank 9. this is because the 10th ending is the one in which you die due to not establishing a meaningful soulmate connection in time. currently, we’ve only read through iris and victoria’s versions of it. i do like iris’ a lot (shocker) because she sees you as a blip in her radar, something that could have been. i’m ngl i laughed out loud at victoria’s because why is my boss situationship organizing my funeral and not my own PARENTS LMAO

[lesser-mook]

Footage of Texas STANDOFF With 302k Migrants on US-Mexico Border Has Gon...

https://youtu.be/cL7X4cskd8Q

(shitty *melodramatic thumbnail aside- and brace yourself this is finna get deep, 90% of this is lore)

This is like The Walking Dead Season 4, but the Zombies came with bags and are given free resources after they invade. Literally a zombie horde forcing their way in, to consume resources that should've been going to Americans. 

But this sudden surge of resources given to these aliens shows that the Gov. had the means to help Americans the entire time but chose not to, which we all knew already but it's confirmed by the same people that left us to burn.  

(To clarify, this isn’t on the illegal aliens entirely, like ‘let’s dehumanize these people’ because of the dumb policies our “leaders” made

Yeah some of em are coming here not for some Dream but they want free shit because Biden is an agent, ie. Who allowed them to come in here in the first place? The Illegals aren’t actually taking anything by force--  they’re being GIVEN the motherload by your own Administration)

 What a joke. 

Every Empire has it's fall. America. Your turn.

And how we got here starts with the simple things, like relations, tensions between the power-houses of society. 

The dichotomy, Man & Woman. 2.Two forces of nature, two pieces of an incomplete entity that is the “Hu-man” 

The agenda is simple, it wasn’t quick, it was a slow burn: If these two pieces fit so well together that when they are getting along, things are great, community is stronger, the culture is healthy, values/norms/standards intact- Traditional family works...but the problem is

A civilization united like that well? is a lot harder to fool/control/manipulate.

 So the agenda is simple:

Keep people fighting, invent more labels, enable toxicity/ hostility in the culture, propagandize with stronger signals in the music, movies, political spectrums = Separate men and women on a cultural level. Plant a disconnect and keep it intact.

Drive the sexes apart in the intangible sphere, thought, norms.

Propagandize & overstimulate girls with a crap-ton of unrealistic expectations of themselves and men. 

Give women every incentive not to be responsible with their reproductive powers, to the point young men are stuck with grown children who are looking for Papa at Ages 19-35 to pay for everything and offer next to nothing of their own accord. 

The world owes you for being born female

 And when every woman is a special snowflake & pandered to, womanhood is trivialized, accountability becomes an option. 

It’s why your culture worships “Girl bosses”, you call your adult females “girls” so casually, it’s casual condescension. Patronizing.

It is so casual- WOMEN call each other “girls”. Reinforcing a state of infantilism.

So a bunch of girls and yet you have no “Women”, America has stopped raising women years ago. 

Castrate, degrade, bash and shame men to the point where young women are now stuck with Sub-Males who are out of touch with their balls. 

America doesn’t make men like they used to, they’re too busy neutering them.

And then develop fetishes wanting giant women (aka a hybrid construct of mommy/female authority issues & Gynocentric society) to castrate, degrade, bash, and subjugate themselves- They developed a fetish where they castrate themselves in the exact same fashion society does except they depict actual violence happening. Manslaughter even.

Now, what do you call a condition where a victim normalizes the abuse as a coping mechanism?  Stockholm Syndrome.

Macrophilia is just an advanced/tragic case of mass Stockholm Syndrome.

See psychologists aren’t allowed to say that, they stay very neutral because that’s what keeps them employed. 

But I’m not getting paid for this- so there you go. Macrophilia and it’s mother: (toxic-gynocentrism/ not Women having opportunities-- but TOXIC Gynocentrism/Female Privilege) & it’s father (misandry) are all connected. 

One big inbred family of dysfunction and societal collapse (which if you pay attention that’s what a giant woman mainly does, collapse civilization, cause pain, destroy, evil-

Something women are not, just to put that out there, because I feel it’s necessary or we’ve fallen so hard as a species, that HAS to be said now. Women are not the enemy, Women are not the enemy, Men are not the enemy, Women are not the enemy of Men. 

So it’d be a good idea to stop emulating the hatred that’s implanted.

Macrophiles/ or Macrocreeps as I lovingly dubbed them- are literally/indirectly/ & repeatedly communicating that women will cause or are the collapse of civilization, women being empowered means women are enemies of humanity, women are evil- the same narrative on repeat)

NOW THAT- is misogyny, 100% learned, 0% nature. 

If you were raised in a small town like Black Forest (Germany): 

or a Mongolian Steppe Nomad life. Healthy upbringing, healthy-equal community for men and women, away from misandry & gynocentrism, unplugged from the Matrix/ aka The HATE-trix

-you’re not going to have this crap living in your head. 

You just might even have a life.

It’s why this movie (The Red Turtle) is so poetic, simple and beautiful. it displays simply what life is without the bullshit:

Every time I watch this movie, I’m reminded what the “human experience” boils down to, as repetitive as it is, it really boils down to having each other, family.

See people were freaks back in the day, but within reason, this macro-cancer wasn’t really popping back in the 70s when men and women were for the most part in an okay place. 

You get more of a rise of this kind of thing when things are bad between men and women, it’s really a mirror of HOW bad it’s gotten in society or in your own childhood, your mind, your subconscious where seeds are planted.

When men & women are happy on mass, when the culture has shows like Good Times, The Cosby Show, Living single Roseanne, Full House- positive culture, when that is the repeated narrative, positivity, you tend to get positive signals implanted in the people watching it, namely children.

 Fact is, you get an infection in the body when there’s a problem, not when it’s healthy, plain and simple.

See you don’t simply feel the need to replace women with a demonic sociopathic mile-high she-beast or in a neutral sense you need to have Mommy looming over you & make you feel like a loser to feel secure because the giantess needs to be MAN enough for both of you combined: (Hence, women are stuck in a generation of SUB-Males who lost touch with their balls and a lot of the time women have the carry them both) 

And this has nothing to do with confidence, you can be confident and have no balls, want to be mistreated or not know what being a man is about.  There’s a lot of confident losers on this planet, do not confuse the two (Confidence vs Security) together.

vs when you have actual healthy relationships with women throughout life here in reality or a society that doesn’t tell you you’re less than dirt or outright communicates you are stupid, inferior, and something that needs to be fixed or stamped out by a more competent woman presence-

Hellywood definitely hasn’t been doing that, TV shows definitely hasn’t been doing that, Culture, various IRL situations (some caught on camera) definitely hasn’t been communicating that.

One just can’t help but share that misery with the world & await a “congratulations” from fellow cult members for posting the exact same thing for the 15′000th time for the 13th year in a row.. An example of misandrist propaganda birthing a mini-industry of misandrist propaganda. (Though women are victimized as well in the fantasy, lesbians can be macrocreeps too, and the opposite spectrum exists *Giant males* but let’s focus on the popular one, women.)

The compulsion comes from the fact that it’s a generational conditioning operation. I personally think it’s unintentional, there’s no way this shit was calculated, and macrocreeps are too small a group to even be measured as a problem but the problem actually is what they represent, the question: “Where in you is that fantasy coming from?”

What they represent, and what they’re literally showing us (Cry for help / Red Flag) in the content is the concerning factor. And how *consistent it is.

A normal person gets tired of watching the same movie, playing the same game, hell- some people break up from boredom. 

Most fetishists (especially macrocreeps)- DO NOT evolve, grow up or move on, they will stay on the same radio channel for- EVER. I repeat: FOREVER. 

The same horror, the same scenarios but from new artists (so much talent wasted on nonsense, it physically hurts me), the same-

“me male, me insignificant, yes goddess” 

disrespect/Misandry narrative on repeat and repeat and repeat. As per design.

It’s literally a case of an internet economy where nothing changes, like it’s recycling the narrative that their culture convinced them to be true. 

And most will eat it up for years to come (Literal Matrix tier enslavement of the mind)- as if following an installed directive, robotic. If only that level of commitment was shown to marriages or idk actual women? 

But nobody tryna have that conversation, a she-devil in your head who’s entire function is to hurt you & belittle will get more of your time, your skills, investment, devotion than women here in reality, hilarious. 

(And don’t be fooled, these are everyday people, some with families, these aren’t neckbeards but men & women with serious issue, and it’s about time we stopped pretending being broken is a virtue or some kind of badass badge when at the end of the day what you’re producing is blatant misery.

 It’s just ironic the level of commitment given to some lala-land kaiju, a paragon of misogyny that will NOT give you anything back in this life but wasted time, is still more effort than they’d give to women with something to offer)

And it’s even more hilarious that American birthrates started the drop just around the70s to 2020, now that is very interesting to me. Seems like the 70s was just around the tipping point for everyone over in America. Including Biden, because his stance on borders was verrrrry different way back when:

Funny how the media has all the resources to ride Trumps D 24/7 but they conveniently leave out this little gem. 

.Biden In 2007_ “No Great Country Can Say It’s Secure Without Being Able To Control Its Borders”

source

And so, again, women are now stuck with a good chunk of  house broken Man-children or live in a culture that cultivates this attitude where some men  in a bizarre sense want to worship women to a disturbing degree and want their mother to domineer over them and tell them how insignificant they are as society successfully programed into them (rarely is it from one experience), thus women are shipwrecked in this generation with a good number of American males-

-who don’t know how to be or afraid to be men (not men’s fault). And yet the consequence is they turn to fantasy, Anime, fetishism- escapism or any escapism where they condition themselves to have unreasonable expectations of girls and women’s behavior, bodies & themselves.

All to overcompensate what they couldn’t or CHOOSE not to step up to be in reality as men. 

Keyword: They <choose> fantasyland over choosing to be better, which is 100% in their control. They’d rather play victim in a fantasy where they lose control instead of growing a goddamn pair.

Product of the times.

Modern day wars on masculinity is what happens when we are taught women have a right to say “no” (True) but as a society we never tell a woman “no”. (A problem)

A woman happily serving the husband is toxic & repressive, but “Happy wife, Happy life” is normalization of men suffering in silence as long as their domestic adult-baby is pacified.

Notice how I’m throwing haymakers in both directions, because either way you slice it (and yes, it does go both ways) on either side it’s not efficient nor sustainable, as we’re now seeing. Everyone actually, because the Americans aren’t the only one’s suffering dropping births.

But it’s only okay when women get the better end of the deal. But the punchline is women aren’t receiving anything good from an atmosphere like this.

Do women today feel safe? Do they trust the men of their country? (that is a big one),  Does their culture prepare girls or pander to them to keep them in a box? Because padding women’s ego’s is a subtle form of control by giving women the illusion of agency.

That’s the ultimate fallacy of a Giant Woman being used by Feminists as an  empowerment symbol, and Fetishists as a symbol of power:  When in fact, a woman that big has even less control over her life because her interaction with civilization (and all the resources they have that she NEEDS from care to tampons) is now limited. The gigantism is fallacy in itself. 

The illusion of control.

Inflating the importance of a woman’s “independence” from men in society (when it’s not dependence to be with a man, it’s coexistence)

Some society shame the egos of men  because they are afraid of what men are capable of when things go wrong (Shootings, R*pe, murder).

When all that needs to be done is to teach boys & men to regulate and channel their ego instead of snuffing it out, teach principle, not hedonism. 

Abusing boys, drugging them up to stay still & smothering masculinity because the result is that a lot of  men now think they have no power and some believe & revel in the narrative they should have no confidence or power and only women should be allowed to have an ego & overwhelming advantage (Gynocentrism).

When it's just another perpetuated narrative (harming women & men) that men should be nerfed because they're a threat and not women because-

 women aren't a threat. Apparently only in a fantasy are they anything close to a danger.

  Exacerbating a woman's ego because you or the system presumes they won't ever do anything about it, zero threat. 

That’s why American culture is biased toward women so hard: They don’t take you seriously.

Misandry  is when the village fears men

Gynocentrism is the result of underestimating women's egos, underestimating women, painfully so.

Which is also why these macrocreeps use the fetish so they can fabricate a woman with near omnipotence over the “tiny”, 

Some psychologist taking on macrophilia theorize (paraphrasing): ‘Macrophiles seek to create women with overwhelming power in light of society lacking female empowerment’...... uhhhhhh excuse you, where have you been in the past 15-20 years of American pop culture & real time events? 

A “LACK” of Female empowerment? What?! 

Women are in fact doing better than the fellas.

This is a brutal form of gaslighting harder than a politician.

 And you want to know the most insulting part? Their assertion It’s conceivable to an extent but they never dig deeper.

Example: Most of these qualified people will use the “lack of female empowerment” point but rarely do any of them mention the rampant misandry in society & the culture inflating women’s egos, more so the normalization/glorification of male expendability as a logical alternate or logically the primary reason why Macrophilia has taken root in this era specifically to glorify what? You guessed it Glorification of male expendability and inflating the hubris of a woman.

Coincidence, it’s all coincidence.

But you see, when you say men wanting to be destroyed is because of gynocentric society lacking female empowerment: That’s another way of saying:

It’s not the fault of culture putting women on a pedestal at men’s expense as to why men developed stockholm syndrome where they also put women on a pedestal at men’s expense, even to the point of desiring their own oblivion- #Deflection

No instead they assert or suggest women aren’t being gassed up ENOUGH!!!

 So it’s not about men & women being culturally (& possibly at some point physically or emotionally) abused and propagandized- 

let’s make it about women not getting enough pandering, reinforcement, benefits, exceptions, compliments, priority, priority priority, priority. PEDESTAL.

(I think you get it, and I also think you see the problem. Men ARE ALWAYS AT THE BOTTOM, even in a situation where they are the focus per the fetish & might look to these psychologists for answers, somehow these people still make women out to be the victims anyway because society isn’t doing enough, so women deserve more more more.)

THAT right there is the freaking problem, not that women are involved in the conversation, but the fact that men are shelved yet again to make it about women.

But so many go to these pages for answers to be met with enabling the problem further, thus the source of the problem is lying in the place you go to get answers, how ironic. 

The dishonesty with some of these professionals is astounding, and you know what? I don’t think they’re doing it on purpose, that’s the scary part for me.

But yes, I do believe a lot of these people are holding back information or a degree of transparency to prevent from seeming like a persecutor.

Listen, I get empathy, you can’t just come at people any type of way. But if we’re going to get to the bottom of this, we have to stop holding people’s hands. The truth doesn’t exist to breastfeed you, the entire point is to enlighten, teach, and if that involved discomfort that means it’s working. 

And saying essentially ‘women deserve better’ is why men glorify women destroying humanity is just signaling more entitlement, toxicity, excuses, zero accountability. 

And worse? Enabling people to worship Anti-Humanity obsessions.

This isn’t about accountability of women, not this time, Macrophilia wasn’t created by women, it was created by the overall culture, the village, the atmosphere that enabled female privilege, how matriarchal society is despite how patriarchal civilization is or was, but society? Is very matriarchal, Gyno (Women)- Centric.

Namely the people on top that own these companies, these news, media platforms of all types, owning everything we see (global too)- that are pushing the narrative.

Then we wonder why so many ladies are infantile and panic whenever asked “What do you bring to the table?”, this is not women’s fault, mind you. 

How are women supposed to answer the question, when they’re taught that they have all the answers, they’re bosses, they’re in charge, they run the world, the future is female, girlpower, #girlpower, #GIRLPOWER, empowerment, ass-kissing-

WOMAN WORSHIP culture. (Macrocreeps anyone?)

That’s what’s pumped into the average Americano lady like crack, like being reliant on the world to tell them they’re awesome. And then they grow up (physically), trained to be reliant on external validation for life-

A form of control over a woman’s mind, not fantasy but here in reality.

Spend a lifetime with a phone in your hand, depending on anon’s to signal they want to sleep with you instead using those hands of yours to actually build something or spread something constructive, like the truth, or a song, or a story, an empire, create something, anything other than your Two-Millionth selfie for the day.

That’s the sick joke: It comes off as America’s boner for Female Security when it’s female subjugation/pacification, on top of male subjugation/castration. Both parties are trivialized as a result. Nobody wins, nobody. 

Everyone’s a prisoner. That’s the point.

A giant 5′000ft tall woman destroys civilization, kills everyone. 

She laughs about it, gets off on it, and then what? She’s left stuck as a giant, no grocery to shop from, no one to love her, no one to talk to, no dental care, no resources, no infrastructure, no friends, no home, no support system, she’ll starve, she’ll dehydrate, she’ll get lonely, she’ll die alone. No fucking point,  that’s the part of the fantasy these muppets very conveniently leave out, reality.  Strength for days, but zero power. 

The natural consequence of the fantasy emulates reality. Nobody wins, nobody. Not even in fantasy. 

No intimacy, just horror, ugliness, death, destruction and emptiness. 

Because that’s what women are, amiright boys?

The common theme? I repeat, Nobody wins. 

It’s so closely similar in both fantasy & reality, the parallels are blood related (Hence my mother & child analogy). 

Propaganda is scary like that and moreso predictable, as are fetishists. 

We underestimate the effects of what children internalize (regardless of how minor the experience is) & regurgitate it and the fact that we don’t stop doing that emulation when we become adults.

It’s how we read rooms, social cues, our lovers or dangers, develop traumas.

We see, then spread the message. Whether it be school, a cool line from a movie, a song stuck in your head, an insult that sticks with you, someone intimidating you, threatening you, or you being threatened by a misunderstanding,  a compliment etc. 

No difference. 

We need less female empowerment, and more mentors.

Respect to women as humans first, and not singling them out constantly as “first woman to do-” something a man did 75 years ago. Patronizing women and making them like being a participation winner.

Mentor girls of womanhood as a principle, aka accountability, protecting your reproductive powers, not giving it away. 

America panders to female ego but does not respect womanhood. 

Society failed women and men by convincing us women are the exception when they actually deserve less- until  they’re willing to contribute something beside an open hand in a relationship.

You don’t get to win by just showing up.

women need to learn what earning a man’s time, money/ His life, His sacrifice, 

What earning his LIFE for hers really means.

Women need to learn what it means to earn that shit, I swear to god, a man’s life is so trivialized now, women don’t even think about what a big deal it is for man to just pay his life as a toll for hers to go on 5 more seconds.

 It’s disgusting how overlooked that is, but I keep hearing “As he should”, WHOO buddy. Americans are beyond lost baby.

But you see in 15 years or less that’ll be considered “hate speech” or a thought-crime, or perhaps this entire rant would be worth an insta-trip to ban world.

 because #MenAreTrash is trendy that’s fine 100% males don’t have feelings right but the same time we want them to be sensitive, but not too sensitive or else he’s a man-child. It’s never enough.

 #MenNeedToStepUp we can agree on 100%, but #WomenDoBetter or #WomenNeedToEarnAMan is misogyny

Everything is misogyny when name calling or witch-hunts aka “Cancel culture” (how it’s called today)- doesn’t work.

Right, keep that up. Doing a good job so far, lmfao.

But gee, I can’t figure out why the birthrates are falling

& men are flocking to other countries for real women? When there’s plenty in America, far in-between but they do exist.

All we wanted to do was just treat men/husbands/fathers like second class citizens, like idiots- so horrifically mistreated that the goofballs went & created a fetish/Cult where they actually enable each other to want to be treated like second class citizens.

ZERO connection, all coincidence!

Wanting Women to be their gods and mistreat or destroy them and the whole of civilization: um wow.

Did you even have a mother? I mean My God, what happened?!

You know, ZERO red flags there. Nothing to see here. Everything is fine. Go back to deviantart, enjoy the genocide.

No btw, I AM NOT shitting you, this is real. 

(And the access to A.I art made it SOOOOO much worse, now these lovable dorks can just spawn the most horrific shit with zero effort now)

If you didn’t think that group’s issues weren’t that deep? (because naturally, they’re just minding their business beating off/worshipping human genocide- until you realize how comfortable they’re getting, too damn comfortable, normalizing the most anti-human shit, it makes you question if you’re even awake sometimes)

Trust me, a good majority of them don’t even know where their obsession came from--- AND that is the point of propaganda, subtle, like a socio-cultural virus. A weapon for your mind. neurological malware.

I repeat: Neurological/Socio-Cultural Malware for your mind. A prison for your mind. It used to be heroin, still is for some, but now fantasy is the new drug, no drugs in your system, not “harming anyone” but that justification to keep doing it is why the prison is that much stronger. You tell yourself there’s no problem because no one’s hurt, you’ll keep doing it for the rest of your life.

The change begins when we allow ourselves to stop lying to ourselves.

And again, to no one’s surprise (Brain mappings show fetishism or sex addiction is parallel to addictive habits like drugs, alcoholism, etc.) So no, not harming anyone (until it does) but yourself through re-wiring what your brain imprints on, I believe it’s through firing signals via the synapse endings at climax, like you’re physically making changes to your brain on a microscopic scale. 

That is precisely why breaking the habit is difficult and the more rewarding, with any bad habit btw.

Fact is, Nobody knows exactly when a virus gets in your body or your pc/phone  machine, but when it’s in, it’s on you to do something about it or cope with it by not coping at all.

Superboy-Prime’s level of petty is not even close to an average GTS NPC, and ironically he could solo 99.99999999% of them all, even the god level one’s. And he’s smaller than most of them-

So yeah, despite having the word in their mouths 24/7, macrocreeps don’t really understand what  “power” is, lol.

Even if it’s a gentle scenario or the cringe “unaware” crap (where the appeal is more manslaughter but the excitement is she’s doing it unintentionally *yes, society failed this hard*)

The visual point of a woman being bigger by that much is visually signalling: “superiority”, female supremacy, gynocentrism. Males being lesser, weaker, vulnerable, under control, a security/self-esteem/ ultimately a Life-skill issue- that is the point.

It’s always a “power-” dynamic scramble, it’s so toxic and dysfunctional. 

To belabor the point, It’s no accident that what American society (from movies to articles) is pumping into you guys, is exactly what these cats worship with a level of dedication that makes Christians look like amateurs. 

They could legitimately begin a religion, I’m actually genuinely surprised they haven’t by now. 

In this context though, in Fantasyland where genocide is a goddamn game, that’s the entire appeal, #SizeDifference #Macro #Giantess #GiantessCrush #Sizeplay SizeSIZEsizesizesizesizesizesize, it’s really unhealthy. 

Hence Fetish hence “Obsession”, that’s what fetish means = You have nothing better to do.

This is why macrophilia is so unique though, solely because of how relevant it is to this era, the socio-cultural relevance.

And the reason for that (again) is this toxic gynocentric era in the west/ First world countries in general enabled it/ birthed it/ cultivated it in the first place.

Hear me: Macrophilia (One obsession) didn’t cause the problems between men and women, it is simply one of many manifestations/ & ultimately a spawn of these problems. 

It’s literally an example of what your civilization did horribly wrong whilst trying to empower women, you left men behind. 

Worldwide issue btw, Macrohphilia is not exclusive to America, neither is toxic-Gynocentrism. But America is Gold Medal champ in making their Men are 100% aware they are expendable to society, made to feel inept or stupid, should do more, here’s a superhero movie showing a guy being cool but IRL we’ll treat you like garbage in policies & law making. 

A lot of Japanese are into MacroCultisms, to no one’s surprise. 

Not in the 50s to 70s, but during the 90s, post-Internet 2000s era is when it really sparked, now all of a sudden we got a huge influx of goofballs wanting women to commit mass genocides on entire cities (Which involves children & babies- #ThisIsFine) or men the size of germs shrining women for existing, living on their bodies like Demodex (your hair mites)... just the most mind-numbing shit just to feel like you’re worthless, on purpose.

Kind of like the narrative privileged society pumps into you? #FutureisFemale (How inclusive) 

Or articles propagating that men are “Falling behind”, any & every excuse to plant seeds of disconnect and potential resentment, always negative.

The goal is to propagandize female supremacy to either frustrate men into resenting women (some of MGTOW), turn them paranoid (Anti-Woke Tards that complain about any movie with a female lead or women doing anything cool or competent), or straight up break them like dogs & the victims will ask for more (Macrocreeps)

or turn them indifferent, numb to even want to say or do anything about the problem. Men who unplugged and absolutely do not care anymore.

A lot of Men have been whipped & brutally trained by their own culture to be and somehow want to be second/third class citizens in some respects. and you’ll have attention seeking narcissist women infiltrating these communities garnering a following calling themselves “Goddess- [insert name]” , absolute silliness, just the most infantile stupid crap you’ll ever see. 

The strongest degree of secondhand embarrassment I’ve ever experienced, it’s like watching younger siblings just ruin....everything they touch for no reason.

These women banking on the insecurity of thousands of men who just need help or a fucking hug.

And the simple chemistry of men and women boils down to: SEX, connection, life, be happy. That’s it. That’s really all people want.

How do you complicate that, this badly? And it NOT be an artificial catalyst that caused it, life was not designed to be this convoluted & silly. This is what happens when you make relations between men and women more complicated than necessary. 

Otherwise, frankly: How does genocide correlate with sex. 

Vore? Still cringe, but at least you can loosely correlate that with oral sex, digestion (psychotic) but believe it or not it’s wanting to be in the womb again. 

(Male or female) it applies, yes brains are stupid like that. This is why what you ingest through the eyes to your soul is important, most people don’t even know where the impulses are coming from but WELP *wank wank

KNOW THYSELF. FREE THYSELF. Ya’ll better watch The Matrix again and really listen to what it’s telling you, not “was” telling, what IT IS telling us, still today. 

“A prison for your mind.”, notice how The Matrix in context was a “Fantasy” land/ distracting from the real war going on outside of the fantasy, outside of the prison. 

We better catch what these films are communicating.

Back on topic, how does being abused/bullied/destroyed/digested/ all of this crap by women- relate to sex and making love and NOT be related to some psychological struggles or a mass installation op. Even if unintentional.

Propaganda, abuse, societal/generational neglect. That’s how. Genocide ain’t it boi, something upstairs went sleep mode & it needs to wake up.

“The sleeper must awaken.“

I’m not smart at all, I just know what shit smells like and I’m more than willing to step on toes, and happily brave a ban or 2 if it means saying what apparently no one wants to say because we have this unspoken rule that all kinks are sacred & immune to judgement.

HA!, I don’t know what planet you came from, but that’s not how life works buddy. Whenever I tell fetishist this, they shut down completely or unravel, their confidence just goes away like fart.

Why?

Because they rely on the world saying “Sorry, carry on.” Nope! That’s not how life works. A fetish is not a baby, so adopting it gives absolutely nothing to us.

Really, all we have to do is pay attention to the world in real time and the rest sorts itself out. But our everyday can muddy & blur the lines, I get it, and that’s part of the game. Blue Pill baby, it was never about being asleep, it’s about being distracted.

“You need to see.“

- Jamis (DUNE PART TWO)

Some of these hombre’s aren’t even abused as kids, sometimes all it takes is one awkward moment with a girl overpowering you verbally or physically, a moment of vulnerability, or you get yelled at by an adult woman, or you see abuse or a woman having an overwhelming advantage in a movie and society does the rest with crap like #GirlsRunTheWorld over and over and over again-

No strong male role models to build up a healthy ego, or no dad at all, or a competent father, or even a big brother or sister, then when your confidence isn’t properly built (by your parents or environment) in time when you see something that makes you feel inferior or put-off and your mind can’t register it properly.

Like psychological indigestion and or in layman’s terms “Intrusive thought” that manifests into something it shouldn’t.

So it doesn’t bounce off as it should, or make you mad & you reject the negative signal.- instead it actually sinks into you, you internalize it. And it sits there, and sits there, & you keep seeing things in shows, feeding that seed.

And through a coping mechanism post-puberty where your hormones turn off your intelligence entirely (Yes, Sex chemicals actually make you stupid by design),  where you then normalize the toxicity because it’s women doing it, and women are attractive. So genocide is a good thing if a woman does, because women are hot. 

You’re horny now + the epic scale of giant women having near omnipotent control over your fate provides unrivaled excitement & dopamine levels that no woman could or would even want to measure up to (Cause it’s goofy af, Gulliver’s Travels #headass). 

Then the newborn fetishist propagates #Giantessisms over and over and over again with the unbridled freedom of the web- ready to act a fool.

And the ever so convenient echo-chamber of fetish spaces where everything you do and say came straight from Christ himself, where you’ll receive ZERO challenge. (Another part of the problem)

Indulge comfortably until someone, eventually goes against the grain in 4-15 years, roasting it- and then your defenses activate.  Because how dare they insult something that provides absolutely zero value or tangible substance to your life amiright?

But my oh my, I don’t know where it came from, I guess it’s always been there but It’s pretty much my personality and ”a part of my identity”....it’s a “hobby” 

-some say this crap, of course on threads where the likeminded are & will upvote everything they say, naturally naturally.  

Challenge is their Kryptonite. Questions make everyone queasy.

Painting women as inhuman psychopaths is a HOBBY. Riiiiiight, Okay then.

Pretending in make believe land that you’re a tyrannical burden to the society that would bend over backwards to protect you at the expense of men, any day of the week. 

You actually want to be an evil & mortal danger to people if means your fragile ego getting a stroke from being a couple meters/Mile  taller than everyone else, for a sense of control you obviously can’t manage to obtain as a competent adult here in reality. That’s part of your “identity”? Oooooooookay then.

Definitely not overcompensating for anything.

But don’t judge them though, you don’t want to hurt anyone’s fee’s fee’s now do you? You don’t want to be a meanie or a bad person.

Because saying nothing & pretending “This is fine” has worked out so well for mankind thus far right? 

Just ask Japan 2023 (Age of consent raise in that year, look it up. *If I talk about it, that’s going to be another essay, let’s stay focused: 

Sexes Disconnect/Gynocentrism/Gynocentric-Fetishism/Birthrates/Illegals/Decline )  🚨

Cycle of toxicity birthing more cycles.. 

The biggest woman you see first/imprint on in life is ideally your mother-figure. 

These cats just want mommy, thus from the place of a child (thus small like a child) so macrophilia has some PeterPan syndrome-isms in it’s core, thus to no one’s surprise this is a very cringe case of some suspended development because for most, all of this started when they were at their smallest & VULNERABLE to begin with.

“Vulnerable“, something they want to feel. That’s part of the high. “Helpless“, you’ll hear that term a lot in their subtext, it’s like a religious mantra next to “insignificant“, they LOVE that one, holy shit is that one a cult favorite line. (Z from ANTZ #headass, “You’re right Z, you are insignificant.”)

I’m telling you, all you have to do is pay attention. How our brains work is not that complicated especially when what these innocent goofs choose to share with us is literally spelling out the picture- How can I tell? Consistency and the fact that they NEED the world to know, like a cry for help:

Except they’re getting likes & money, and not a fuck to give to provide a solution vs exacerbation. 

And no, unlike what some of these exploitative women will say: NO providing an outlet or safe-space for these little angels is not therapeutic. 

Therapy is an actual solution, letting it go is a solution. Indulgence? Is like dumping a truck full of “happy snow” in a rehab center and then calling that “therapeutic”. 

The women arguing this want their meal tickets to stay delusional, stay deranged and remain imprisoned. Money baby, it’s all money.

This fetish became an industry, like many tend to do.

The repetitive nature of the “content” is too consistent, Artwork evolves it’s narrative. Art changes.

(I repeat) But this? It stays the exact same, same narrative, same bloodshed, same dialogue, all that’s different is the production value and who it’s coming from.

And yes, all of this & others mentioned prior contributes or related to the birthrates issue (China, Japan, Russia & others suffer this too), thus this illegal invasion in America.

All of it is connected, all of it, this isn’t the usual rambling session or tangent. There’s a point to this entire lecture, this is actual lore for the movie you’re living in.

The Twilight Zone episode that will not end even after you do.

These are real people, it’s not doing America any favors pretending these clowns/more-so the implication and subtext of their issues or more importantly THE issue doesn’t exist.

It’s the same with Japanese men and their infatuation with Anime culture & how that mega industry and so many other factors are causing Japan’s own falling births, social shut-in’s, etc.

We can’t just ignore this crap because no one wants to be “that guy”, screw that. Nothing’s gonna get done if we’re stuck in our own little worlds. 

Doesn’t make sense to have the Internet and be this connected & still be so distant at the same time.

We gotta at least address the roots of the issues while having fun-

That’s the operative concern, what caused the phenomenon in the first place, how do these obsessions work, why, and where is it coming from?

And why is it almost prophetic? Like a warning.

This isn’t about Macrocreeps being the problem, they’re a result. 

This ain’t about coming after them, though it’s been high time somebody put their ass on blast, so long overdue, holy shit. 

Because if you step back and really look at the concept of a giant woman committing genocide because her job sucks or she needed to bigger just to feel good about herself instead of just getting her life together? 

It’s pretty silly lol, infantile even.

But this is really about the subtext, that they are living breathing red-flags/reminders that your culture is failing and it’s failing everyone.

Woman is god, male subjugation good, women destroy civilization (including killing kids & babies by the thousands apparently, so marcocreeps are indirectly beating to slaughter of children, yaaaay) and yes, some also sexualize children too, casually. 

Japan would be proud or as of 2023, maybe not? Lol. 

Wash rinse repeat, it’s never enough. Men, humans, animals, life needs to be red paste on the bottom of a woman’s feet or else the itch isn’t scratched. 

For an average macrochump to feel some sort of sexual vindication in the context of the fantasy:  Women. The ONLY natural  threshold of human life, absolutely need need to trample, torture, and destroy life. 

That is indicative of something very concerning.

This is what I mean when I say Macrophilia is at it’s core: Anti-Human

That is straight misogyny, and I’m one of those people that hate the overuse of the word “misogyny”, I never use it but here I am using it (If I’m not mistaken for the first time in serious context) because this is actually that disturbing.

Click “upvote” on the psychopath content (”content” lmfao, more like commissioned propaganda)

comment for more, make video games repeating the same exact, and I do mean SAME EXACT narrative. 

(Yes, these goofballs make games & comics *they’re shit storytelling btw, absolute garbage, it’s not even appropriate for ironic cringe, it’s just bad*, it’s not creative either. But the lengths they go to to realize the exact same talking point they’ve heard a million times? The sheer determination to want to be demeaned, disrespected, & bullied by women and girls? That’s the impressive part. Again, I sincerely doubt they’d put that same effort in their kids. Just saying.)

further internalize male self-hatred as you were programmed to do so. Follow the script. Question nothing. Consume. Consume. Consume. Indulge, sink, drown.

You’d think they’d get bored of it, or maturity would fight it’s hardest to tame that beast of a brain in one’s cranium, and fit some sanity in there. God forbid

All in all, The American Culture state has weaponized women against men for decades now- so the fetish itself is not surprising or a shock.  

Men or women wanting to give up “control” for a sense of security in being ruled or abused in every way possible by a giant entity (male or female) sounds ideal for a (giant entity) state/society/government that literally would love love loooove for men (aka the first & last line of defense of civilization) or women (first, second and last line of defense to the children AND the only natural threshold of new life) to bow down, and want to be slaves.

So (in general) if your protectors are too busy kissing the ground, who’s protecting you? 

It’s why so many women are wondering what happened to men? Where did the men go? Why aren’t men performing? 

To put it simply (fetish or no fetish), a lot of western men:

They’re broken. Tamed. Clipped. Sterilized. By the same entity that tells you you can have it all “The Party”, The collective, society, the entity, the giant. 

Because there’s a lot more men committing self-termination than women, look it up. They’re suffering.

So most, not all- But all in all, women need better “uplifting” messages and the men are in serious need of society giving a crap about them.

  It starts in the home, both the solution and the problem starts at home and the village/society. Because parents can do everything right and society will undo 70% of that work.

I’ve said all this before, and I will keep saying it until I’m dead & probably still talking & ranting from beyond the grave.

If I personally wanted to "RIP” a country, “If.” Theoretically

I would convince the men that being a man is toxic, that they shouldn’t be men, to the point where they actually want to give up their manhood. 

Enable a superiority complex in the women regarding the men, to keep them in a constant state of resentment & entitlement and they don’t even know why. And the men are so passive & broken, they won’t challenge the women unless pushed, and when pushed, they will be frustrated, & what could result in a solution will just deepen the resentment on both sides.

And while one group is insufferable and the other one is groveling and pathetic and angry, or they just fight each other- The children are now exposed.

 Corrupt the children, you take that country’s future. Checkmate. 

Same with race. 

Not a nuke, not poisoning the water- but poison how the people see each other. 

Corrupt what they believe until they believe in nothing at all, not even in themselves, let alone their Gov., let alone their Homeland. Poison the culture. Keep them fighting, so when I do pull up on their doorstep, it’s too late.

 [Destroy the traditional family first, the pillars. Trivialize values until you stand for nothing: Destroy the country]

Convince the Protector Class/Men they should want to be destroyed by the group of people they should be protecting in the first fucking place: That is the power of propaganda people, corruption of the natural instinct. Anti-Human.

Size is not power, 

controlling what you see, influencing what you should think, what you don’t believe, who you hate, how to hate, what to hate, what to see as good, even now influence what you obsess over- To control how the world changes, controlling the triggers to your mind, propaganda, knowing you better than you know yourself, how to speak, what to say, weaponizing the mind against you, propaganda, that is power. 

Message = Power

 Always has been.

This is psychological warfare in real time. Brain-Malware, this is not a joke.

And trust and believe, I actually do have better things to do,  I only talk this much because I actually give a hoot.

 It’s just a crime that professionals with lengthier credentials WILL NOT tell you any of this. 

Propaganda is CONTROL, and can convince you to give yours up. 

Propaganda hurts you and conditions you to want to be hurt by the other half of humanity who’s entire instinct is community, birthing life, emotional propensity strength & nurturing. Things that glue civilization together. 

Things that are trivialized by civilization but things that civilization needs to stay intact, that only women provide in a way only women (as a collective) can. That’s womanhood, but you’ll sooner hear about empowerment on a corporate ad on Youtube to sell some damn soap than these companies tell you (what I just said) that truth because people actually NEED to see and hear this.

Hear me out, women are physically softer, designed to be more pleasant and lovable to appeal. Even an average woman’s voice triggers pleasure chemicals in your brain.

But somehow the popular obsessive scenario in the cult is women destroying everything, with a smile, with pleasure, and obscene satisfaction. Absolute demon-spawn who’s birth is a mistake.

Sooooo the overtone being, again, that a woman with any power- is a threat to civilization? A threat to men. 

Wow, that’s how you feel? Lmfao!  Again, smells like misogyny.  Smells like an implanted narrative. 

See, majority of the “GTS” (Gratuitous Trivial Silliness) -producers just conjure their content to receive likes, appease the intrusive thoughts living rent-free in their head and most importantly validation for their Misandrist-macabre & maybe money from the fellow members. 

The actual overtones of what they’re spreading out in the Human races digital continuity (Inter-Nets) and how that insults/slanders women or what that says about them because that’s coming from their own heart & mind about women- that  will never sink in for them to devote 5 seconds of self-awareness. 

Or they did, and just don’t care because they know nobody replying will say anything less than “More please!”

Too much dopamine addiction to the validation to properly think about the subtext or what they’re actually communicating by drawing/shooting/programming  the same crap over and over again.

A beautifully implanted rotted seed (on part of the powers sabotaging men & women), twisted, horrifically sick joke. 

Completely Anti-Human narrative, because who even portrays women like that, all women wanted was Equality. Why do we absolutely need them to loom over us like overlords when they actually just want someone to love them, listen to them, and see them? Flaws and all.

That’s all women want. Women are not a mystery, they’re just made to be complicated by the media & hacks that dictate the prevailing narrative that articles spread like wildfire, because women being complicated helps the disconnection. It romanticizes it.

Tell someone a lie enough times then it becomes true.

Some bro’s propagate “Woman with power is a man’s undoing” / “The threshold of life being the merchants of death” for a living and sleep at night without considering “Why is that coming from inside me” ? 

Nothing. 

This is why accountability, judgement, criticism is necessary. 

It helps prevent society from becoming a mass asylum (where it gets to a point where a woman who steps on toys for a living is actually given an interview, yes this happened). 

It never “hurts anyone” until it does-

Just. Ask. JAPAN. 

(’2023 Japan Age of Consent Law change’, look it up and look up why they changed it)

Some commenter said something simple yet true on the same video where some goofy attention seeking woman who sells videos of herself stepping on plastic toys & sells said footage to mouth-breathers, she ultimately claimed “I’m a Giantess” (*nice job parents, good to know where Americano Tax dollars went)

And the commenter didn’t insult her, they didn’t say anything wild, no essay, no lecture, not even something I personally expected, they said simply:

“Western society has derailed.”,

 that’s it.  It’s not profound, but it’s so candid & haunting. 

That stuck with me.

Because that’s the point.

And then if you’re not dealing with human footstools who want to be literal pets for giant-women, you have the other end of the spectrum: Man-Boyos who are actually toxic, the kind that grooms, unwanted advances persist then calls you a “bitch” because the situation didn’t play out how it did in his head, the R*9ists, harassers, stalkers etc.

Plenty of confidence, but misplaced, no humility, no maturity, nothing intelligent to say but talking the loudest. Can’t tell you how many times I almost threw hands with those types of dudes.

And in-between, you have the normies just trying to keep their heads down, live out whatever’s left of the “American Dream/ Theory”, racking up 50 exes every 6 months trying to figure it out because the only legacy society has to pass down to you is failure. 

Consider this hookup culture where women are expected by a lot of men to be LVL99 Sexperts but if she’s had too many partners she’s considered damaged/used up/monkey branching by MGTOW groups...who in concept should be a good thing, some good messages, but overall just boil down to divorcees & bitters bashing women while sprinkling “male empowerment” on top of it.

Again, we need less empowerment and more principles. With principles, you won’t need someone rubbing your belly telling you you’re a special girl or a special boy.

She hits 30, she’s over the hill when actually 30-35 is physically prime time to have babies. 20-30 should be young women figuring it out (mentally, existential), as with any adult.

Or women told/encouraged to “experiment” or made to think they can have the swingers life at 19  and then settle down when it’s convenient. 

Which they can, however, consequences don’t take a break because you’ve been taught to think that’s having fun- Then they’re worn & torn before they’re 25, just way too eager to sleep with 70% of America, like slow the hell down, jfc.

Have a laundry list of expectations for a man, but who you are doesn’t match half the good things you expect from him- How is that a recipe for success?

Just having your cake, eating it, and choking on it on both sides.

Both sides have podcasts asking “what happened?” or pointing the finger to the other side, when in reality--

 We’re not enemies nor meant to fight in nature, powerful women are not a threat, civilization NEEDS that. We need more women that earn their power, & have something offer.

A woman with advantage is not something that will threaten civilization, that’s advancement you goofballs lol.

 Ad proud men aren’t something to keep caged, broken and exercised.

We’re not even designed to fight each other. This is precisely the point as to how forced this all is.

We’re set up to be fractured and wedged from each other in a cultural sense. (because obviously people are still bumpin hips & having kids but some are not raising em worth a crap or training them to be useful or struggling to give them something good, or raising them up right just to be corrupted as soon as they leave the house, sometimes even earlier. some sects of Society are not even hiding that they are “coming for your kids”)

 “Everyone knows  what sex is, a lot of people know how to fuck. Nobody ‘makes love’ anymore.”

SO point being, finally, again: Propaganda is POWER. Propaganda is control (Not a new concept, it’s been said before). It creates delusions/& apparently fetishism. It creates false realities, conflict, disconnect. Lies. Lies. Lies. Propaganda is CONTROL. 

“power & control“, two words macrocreeps obsess over in fantasyland- same two concepts that propaganda is meant to take away from you. That is NOT an accident.

Drive the American sexes apart, division makes for a weaker people, weaker people are easier to control, birthrates dropping since the 70s (Not an accident, look it up & it’s got nothing to do with women going to school and getting jobs) 

And now Biden or the powers above him are making up the difference with an influx of illegals to compensate for what Americans are not birthing because of the disconnect and all the various side-effects of that and the propaganda.

American Feds has always been lacking, but this level of incompetence is not accidental. It’s sabotage. And it’s not new, it’s no different from how dope is implanted in Black communities so the community eats itself alive, remaining behind and seemingly primal.

Think about it, why would we need a New World Order, if one of the most iconic Empires on the planet  is successful, healthy and thriving economically?

The answer is, you wouldn’t need a NWO if the U.S. is King or a threat or taken seriously. 

(Even if you’re not the biggest fan of American history, or the current reputation they have with their poor wokeness & political embarrassments. Do not underestimate just how many countries look to America for reinforcement and an example & always have.)

So to fix that, you prevent The United States of America from EVER becoming a threat again.

And instead of picking a fight on the outside- infiltrate their political parties, infiltrate their culture, their pop-culture, propagandize what they watch, what the masses internalize, break the family down, drive apart men & women, promote alternative lifestyles, make truth an “insensitivity”, speaking truth punishable by legal persecution or being banned from social media (which is akin to erasing your existence in the modern age), and plant agents in the Senate that will (by vote) prevent any progress for the American people:

(Think in Newspeak or be banned for ‘violating community guidelines’, you vulgar swine) aka 

“Social Media” aka 1984: The Prototype

“there is no war in ba sing se”

Pay off the leader to literally allow illegals (that coincidentally involve a good number of your own nationals) into their country and make the legal citizens who are already desperate for better healthcare to then pay for the toilet-paper the illegals wipe their ass with.

The illegals aren’t the problem, Americans are letting them in there. Look up what one of China’s border installations look like, it’s a FORTRESS out of a James Bond game. 

Russia’s border doesn’t play either so why is America expected to be the fool?

Blatant sabotage. It’s all connected. Biden himself in ‘07 said a great nation can’t have weak borders (paraphrasing), now he’s changed his tune when what he said was 100% true.

Birthrates resulting from the disconnect, the disconnect resulting from propaganda, the fetish being the manifestation of the culture’s declining climate & hostility toward men and boys & trivialization of women & girls, dehumanizing humanity; As well as a symptom that the propaganda is working way better than intended.  

OR? the scary part? It was calculated. (doubt it tho)

PROPAGANDA is power!!! Control how people perceive reality & themselves, you control the direction of that society. 

Stepping on cities doesn’t compare to making a NATION eat itself over 50 years or less, it’s not even close. The slow knife cuts deepest, always have. 

(Notice how i’ve belabored & repeated some points throughout, that’s a methodology of propaganda, bombard you with the same narrative so that the narrative sticks, I did that on purpose just so you get a sample of how this machine is operated. Repeat exposure is form of conditioning, hence fetishism, repeat exposure. Repeat the same message. Repeat the same message.)

And because it’s working, Americans are likely past the point of recovery, social media is a powerful tool as well as an effective distraction.

If it took this long to decline, imagine how long it will take to repair the damage, and Americas will never be allowed to fix anything, not before another tragedy conveniently strikes or another reason to fight each other conveniently arises, more distraction.

The problem starts where the solution does, in the home, in your culture.  In your mind.

America needs more people, but the world is rotting, the times are going in a direction not suitable for children, or even if having/affording children is smart. You have a newborn that needs formula, you can’t afford insurance but your taxes are feeding an illegal’s kids. 

Who in their right mind would reward a society with another mind to corrupt, another slave to bleed dry and it won’t even help you raise the child before trying to feed other people kids- who trespassed to begin with and our own homeless are being exiled from cities like the trash you walk on?! *ERROR404*

But we have 50MIL+ for trespassers.

 It’s lose- lose for the modern Americano.

And don’t think Trump is the answer- while it is convenient that his trial happened just at the right time for this election to pop off (ideal distraction from something else going on in the world) these people will fight & debate on TV then have orgies on islands while you’re arguing with people you don’t know online because you think your political tribe is the answer to the world’s problems. When it’s all just manufactured chaos.

Make promises about things you can see, like “build the wall”, but bringing the country together? Bringing men and women together? Better healthcare WITHOUT subtext loopholes to fund backdoor deals in other countries? 

These antagonist corporations causing this disconnect in advertisements & movies, will they be falling in line to help your people?

Do the bloodlines that OWN these corporate giants give a crap?

If that isn’t the argument in the Presidential debate, you’re voting for an agent. (And I keep saying “Agent”, because I repeat: WATCH THE MATRIX again. Hiding in plain sight baby, in plain sight.) 

They do not care, they’re reading scripts, on orders. They promise you policy, when what will save you is unity in the culture. Literally just people getting along.

Help the culture maturing, growing up (pun intended, headass) , it will never happen. 

Why would Americans want that, why would Americans ever want the only real progress that will save their country? Unity. Cooperation. Coexistence. 

Apparently everything’s going great in America, why would people want actual progress that would fix everything, why would you ever want an actual solution when you can keep being promised one by people who don’t live in your community and own Islands to hand down to their great great-grands and yours live off of tips.

But you have 50 million+ big ones to spare for illegals? Hm, you cats got yourselves a paradise eh? Ready to fight everyone’s wars & fix everyone’s problems but your own.

Let them all in to keep families together, and drive your own people apart through movies, ads, games, articles, etc.. 

Your Gov. (and the powers above them) are giving Palpatine a run for his money when it comes to this Chess game play, my lord.

Ya’ll have been getting played, and played hard. 

That’s the only “Domination” happening here, the powers playing on the uninitiated, broken, lonely & longing and above all: distracted. 

Subliminally training so many to submit, hunt for likes from the collective, obey TOS or be erased (prototype martial law), and ironically want subjugation ie. train people to want what’s coming anyway.

All “they” (the token “they”) prevailing party- had to do was slap a woman on it. Genius. And the resulting atmosphere is hurting men and women, genius. 

Life was not meant or designed to be like this. This is why there are problems. 

Reverend Mother from DUNE PART TWO said it best: 

“-there are no sides.“

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: Unfurled Splendor [Yandere Xiao x Reader]

Title: Unfurled Splendor [Yandere Xiao x Reader]

Synopsis: You know daylight existed, once. You just can't remember what it really looked like.

For 2022 Horrorfest request: always night trope with xiao

Word count: 1270

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, isolation

There are certain things that you must tell yourself on repeat or you’re certain that you’ll forget them. They keep you tethered to the ground, sometimes by a thread, so that you don’t simply give up and float away. 

One, you were not always here, in this little house created inside Xiao’s abode. “House” being a lofty term for a space with two rooms, a simple bathroom and open living space. 

You used to live outside, and not the artificial outside that he created at your behest (and begging) but the real outside. With unpredictable weather and animals that did not behave on loops, only capable of repeating what gestures and patterns Xiao had created for you. 

There were other people, people who were mean or nice or somewhere in between. You worked at a job and went to shops and had friends and family. 

And there was freedom, most importantly of all. An elusive creature, now. It’s not something Xiao can create and set onto a carefully tracked loop, though you’re certain that if he could come up with a way to do so, that he would try his best. 

And two--this one is easiest to forget--it was not always night. There had been sunshine, once. Warm, lovely sunshine that dappled through the trees when you walked in the woods; that bore down on you, a hot blanket, in the summertime; that shone through your windows, waking you in the morning with the delighted chirping of the birds.

Yes, you had seen the sun… but that was a long time ago. Before Xiao took you here. Before you had gone nearly mad with being stuck inside all day, and he’d offered up the solution of letting you go “outside,” which turned out to be yet another artificial world of his own creation.

Before he’d decided to make it night time and never bothered bringing back the sun. That was… weeks ago, at least. You don’t know why or when he stopped bothering with daylight. Maybe it was too taxing on him to go back and forth between night and day. Maybe he just didn’t care. 

You do not ask him for the daylight again, because you should not need to ask. Yet that is what your life has become, reminding Xiao of all the things humans need to stay healthy and sane. Like a variety of food and not the same thing day after day; like blankets and pillows; like a bathroom with a  properly fitted tub and toilet. Like books or clothes or things to do. 

Not that he always gives you what you need. He considers most of these things “wants,” to be meted out at his own discretion.  

Sunlight, apparently, fit within that category of “want.” And no matter how often you stared up at the same night sky, wishing for it to fade or at least change, he didn’t seem to pick up on things.

It’s here that he finds you, again, staring at the night sky. Only this time your thoughts have grown so sour and introspective that there are tears in your eyes, sparkling in the cool moonlight that always shines into the window a little bit, dappled through a large, leafy tree.

If the tree were real, there might be any number of nocturnal animals that call it home. As it is, there is only a stationary night-bird that calls out exactly twice an hour. Mechanical. Like a clock. You thought it pretty once, but now you hate it.

There’s a touch on your shoulder and you flinch. Xiao draws back, and says your name. Evidently, he’d said it before.

You turn, just a little, and let him see your tears. Why not? It’s not like he ever responds to them, except perhaps to excuse himself or awkwardly shove a handkerchief into your hands. 

This time, he actually speaks up, although you can see the tension in his stiff posture.

“Why are you crying? What’s wrong?”

There might have been a time where you would have turned away from him, now, and went back to crying silently. Let him worry. Let him figure it out himself, if he could. But something about tonight--tonight? it’s always night, damn it--has you increasingly wound up. Your fingers curl on the windowsill. Your chest aches.

And so you whirl on him, chest heaving. 

“What’s wrong is that it’s been night for weeks and it’s driving me mad and you don’t seem to care.” Your voice cracks on the last word, spiteful tears sliding down your cheeks. 

 He stares at you for a few long moments before looking out the window at the sky he created. And then he looks back at you with such a confused expression that it makes you want to slap him and bring him into your arms, one and the same. 

“You… said you liked the stars,” he says, eyebrows furrowing. You can tell he doesn’t understand. He treats your complaints like that of a child, demanding something nonsensical in the middle of the day, perhaps due to a lack of nap. “So I’ve kept them there.”

You turn and gaze out the window at the same night sky that you’ve seen for weeks on end. You could explain that humans need daylight and sunlight. You could explain that seeing the same night sky for an extended period of time is enough to drive anyone mad.

Instead--

“Those aren’t stars,” you reply, quiet. 

Behind you, Xiao huffs. 

“Yes, they are. They look just like the ones--”

You turn on him, and your face begins to crack, eyes crinkling, mouth turning down. “They aren’t real stars. I want real stars. I want real sunshine. I want everything to be real. Can’t you understand that?”

Xiao’s eyes widen, and the look on his face takes on an expression of slight hurt. Just enough to notice. He raises one of his hands toward your cheek, moving to touch you.

“I… understand,” he says, finally. Slowly. Weighing your words and his own. You’re afraid to do the same, afraid to see you through his own eyes. 

So you shake your head, blinking away the tears, and crawl into bed. Maybe in your dreams something will be different for once, but more often than not, the night sky leaked into your dreams, too. 

You hear the sound of Xiao sitting down in the chair by the window as your brain begins to drift into the fogginess of sleep. 

When you wake up, sunshine filters through the sole window inside the house. Birds chirp in a pattern that you know will loop, eventually. It’s startling, jarring. Your brain doesn’t make sense of it at first. 

You slowly get out of bed, afraid that it might be a dream. You set aside the blanket, you stand up, you take a few steps to the window--and still, the scene outside is blissful, sweet daytime. 

Your fingers rest on the windowsill, soaking in the scene he’s created before you. The sound of birds--a few you can spot, but you hate to look at them, knowing that you’ll recognize their pattern soon enough. A mechanical breeze that comes every so often (you don’t count the seconds between them, not yet); clouds, lazily drifting by in the blue sky, and all of it lit by an artificially bright sun stuck up high. 

It’s not real. It will never be real. Only you are real, here, the only normal, human, mortal thing that will ever exist on this plane. 

Behind the clouds, you can see the remnants of those artificial stars, still twinkling. 

[moremaybank]

STUCK WITH YOU — j.m

day three reluctant friends to lovers with jj maybank

pairing mechanic!jj maybank x fem!employee!reader

summary working at jj maybank's body shop is no piece of cake when your boss clearly has it out for you. one day, the two of you get trapped in the supply closet, and you come to find out that he doesn't hate you at all. in fact, it's the complete opposite.

warnings 18+, unprotected sex, pussy eating, fingering, creampie, squirting, lamguage, jj calling himself daddy (as he should tbh), jj being an ass in the beginning

obx week ‘23 masterlist ;; jj masterlist

JJ had a reputation as the brooding mechanic who always seemed to be in a foul mood. His garage was known for its exceptional work, but he was equally renowned for his gruff demeanour. And it only seemed to worsen around you.

You, on the other hand, were his polar opposite. Friendly, efficient, and a vital employee in the auto repair shop. You were always bringing baked goods for the staff, buying cakes for their birthdays and giving them gifts when you come back from vacation. The customers loved you as well, always laughing and engaging in conversation. You were all sunshine and rainbows, things that JJ lacked severely.

Then, one hot summer day, fate intervened, locking the two of you in the cluttered supply closet at the back of the garage. The door jammed as it always did, and despite your best efforts, it refused to budge. To make things worse, it was just you two that day, everyone else being blessed with the day off. So here you were, stuck in a confined space with your boss who could barely stand to be around you.

"Great, just great," you muttered, frustration bubbling up inside as you jiggled the doorknob one more time.

"This is all your fault, you know. Everyone knows this damn door jams if you don't keep it open," JJ snapped. "I knew you should've taken the day off like everyone else."

"Tough, JJ. I don't care that I have to work under your glare for eight hours. I need the money."

"But I told you I didn't need the help. Now we're stuck in here for god knows how long, with no cell service or anyone to hear us for miles," he replied. "The universe must love me, 'cause I always dreamed of spending quality time with you in the storage closet."

Your jaw clenched at his sarcasm, but you weren't about to let him get the upper hand. "Trust me, the feeling's mutual."

The tension between you was palpable, and neither of you could deny that there was an undeniable chemistry lurking beneath the surface.

JJ paced back and forth, growing more ticked off by the second. "Why can't things ever go smoothly with you around?"

You crossed your arms, matching his glare. "Oh, please, as if you don't thrive on chaos."

He shot you a scathing look. "I thrive on fixing things, not dealing with your constant attitude."

"Well maybe you wouldn't have to deal with my attitude if you were just freaking nice to me."

JJ remained silent, his eyes darting away from you as he scoffed. He refused to take the bait. His patience had already worn thin, and the warmth was getting to him. So he slumped against the door, staring down at his boot clad feet.

Minutes turned into hours, and the heat was taking its toll on you both. JJ had undone the top half of his coveralls, leaving him in a white wife beater. His skin was clammy, and so was yours as you stood there in your buttoned t-shirt and work pants. You were far past dehydrated, and you tried to fan yourself with one of the folded paper bags you'd found on a shelf.

Suddenly, something shifted. JJ stood up, walking over to where you stood and running a hand through his tousled hair. "You know, I hate being locked in here with you."

"Gee, thanks."

He let out a sigh of exasperation. "Every day, I come into this garage and try to act like you don't make me want to pull my hair out. But being stuck in here, with no way out...it's making it damn near impossible to not act on my feelings."

Your heart skipped a beat, his confession hanging in the air. You weren't sure of where it was going, but you could see the vulnerability coming through.

"So, what? You're gonna stab me in the carotid with a screwdriver and put us both out of our misery?"

Your attempt at a joke to lighten the mood only frustrated JJ further. "Why does everything have to be so difficult with you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the fact that I want you," he spoke. He took a step closer, invading your space as his eyes met yours in a way that sent shivers down your spine. With a low voice, he continued. "I can't keep pretending, Y/N. I can't keep pretending that I don't want to be more than your boss. That every time I see you I want to rip your clothes off and make you scream my name in front of everyone that works in my damn shop."

You found yourself speechless, the weight of his words sinking in. It was a side of JJ you'd never seen before; vulnerable and raw. You'd always known that he was attractive, but seeing him like this...it was sexy.

"JJ, I..." you started, your voice trembling.

He closed the distance between you, his lips hovering just inches form yours. "I can't keep pretending," he whispered.

Maybe it was the heat or dehydration that made you hazy. Maybe it was all the pent up desire you'd felt for him all along. But in that moment, you made a choice. Your lips met his in a searing kiss that was long overdue.

JJ's arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. His hands slid down to your ass, groping you as you tugged him closer. Your teeth clashed, tongues stroking against each others as you finally let go of your control.

"You're gonna be sweating for an entirely different reason by the time I'm done with you," he rasped, hands finding each side of your shirt and ripping it down the middle. The buttons popped and flew in several directions, and you let him tug it off and cast it on the ground. His tank top was the next to go, followed by your pants and what was left of his coveralls.

JJ turned you around, your back facing him as he kneeled and yanked your panties down. He spread your ass cheeks wide, stretching your pussy into his view. He licked a stripe from your clit up to your ass, already tasting your arousal. He then dove in, feasting at the pussy he'd been dreaming about for months.

You cried out for him, your hands finding the shelves in front of you and gripping them tightly. "JJ, fuck."

He hummed into you, showing you that he was enjoying it as much as you were. His fingers found your clit and he started to rub circles into it as his tongue fucked your entrance. You were dripping down his chin, as he worked you up more and more. He drew your orgasm from you swiftly, his skilled tongue working wonders on you.

When he stood up, he spun you around once more and roughly pulled your bra down, exposing your tits. "I could cum just by looking at these, princess."

You blushed under his intense gaze, and pulled him in for another kiss. His hands found the backs of your thighs and he urged you to jump. He walked over to the door and pushed your back against it, and used one hand to shove his boxers down.

"I don't have a condom," he said.

"Then fuck me raw." His cock jumped at your words, and you gave him a smirk, knowing he wanted this just as bad as you did. "I've waited long enough for you to make your move. 'M not waiting any longer."

"Your wish is my command, pretty girl."

He slammed into you, his hands steadying on your hips and pulling you down to meet his thrusts. He pushed and pushed and pushed, hitting your g-spot over and over again. He was so forceful that the door shook with each movement. Your hands were clawed in his hair, your head thrown back against the wood as he fucked up.

"That's it. Take it. Take my cock like a good fucking slut," he grunted. "Dick's so good you can't speak, huh? No more attitude for me?"

He was taunting you and you knew it. He was so deep, filling all your senses and making your head fuzzy.

"Tell me you like it when I fuck you like this."

"I l-like it, J. So fucking good like this," you mewled. "Right there, JJ. Don't stop. Please don't stop."

"Knew my girl liked it rough. You want more? Want me to make you cum?"

You nodded furiously, and JJ smirked. He went harder, raising your legs up and above his shoulders as he drove into you. Your skin was raw, stinging with each pound of his hips.

"So fucking tight I'm gonna bust," he said. Your walls clenched at his words. "Yeah? You want my cum in this sweet little pussy?"

"Yes, JJ. Yes. Cum inside me, fuck. I’ll take it all."

"I know you will. Gonna do whatever daddy wants, right?"

You cried out, your nails digging into the back of his neck. Your legs were trembling, and you felt your release cresting deep inside you.

"Cum for me. Right now," he ordered. "Right fucking now."

His words and actions hit you like a brick, and so did your release. You were screaming for him as you came, your eyes rolling back as the pleasure flooded your senses.

"There we go. Finally listening to me, huh?"

He kept going, trying to reach his high and overstimulating you simultaneously.

"So fuckin' tight," he gritted out. "You know how many times I fucked my hand, pretending it was you? Cumming to your staff picture?"

Your core fluttered at the thought of JJ getting off to you in secret. Had he really wanted you this entire time?

"Give it to me, J. I want your cum in me. Wanna be yours. Give me your cum," you begged.

JJ kissed you hard, and after a few more thrusts, his seed was shooting into you. You felt the gooey warmth inside you and you were delighted.

He carried you to the chair in the corner of the room, kneeling before you and sliding two fingers deep inside. They curled against your g-spot again harshly, making your legs feel like jelly. "I want one more, baby. You're gonna give me one more."

"J, no. Gimme a break for a sec, I can barely breathe."

"That's the point, princess."

His fingers fucked you harshly, and his tongue lapped at your swollen bud. He shook his head side to side, slurping at you and moaning into you like a man starved. The vibrations overwhelmed your clit, and combined with the work he was doing on your special spot, you were putty in his hands.

Your hands held his face to you, and your thighs squeezed his head as you ground against his mouth. You bucked them furiously as you chased your next high.

"That's right. Use me. Use my mouth just how you like it," he spoke against your core. His words died in the air before you came, your juices gushing out of you and drenching his chin and chest.

"Oh my god, fuck!"

JJ withdrew his mouth from your cunt and he leaned up so he could kiss you. He continued fingering you, pulling juices from you like you were an overflowing fountain.

"Mm, keep going princess. Keep squirting for me. I want all of it."

"You're so gr-greedy," you panted out.

"Just makin' up for lost time."

JJ TAG LIST (JOIN HERE!): @pankowperfection @oncasette @taintedxkisses @mvybanks @wildflwrdarlin @rafesveryrealgf @dreamingwithrafe @maybankslover @goldenroutledge @penny4yourthoughts @bmo-bri @hemogloban @princessbetsy123-blog @slytherhoes @maybank-archives @whoisdrewstarkey @aliyahsomerhalder @vigilanteshitposting @poppet05 @adoreyouusugar @f4ll-for-you @bbycowboi @rafesdirtyslut @venomwh0re @jjmaybankisbae @enhypens-hoe @loverofdrewstarkey @earth2starkey @angelofcigs @glen-powells @papillonoirsworld @em0-b0ysworld @koalalafications @aerangi @cantstoptheimagines @bloody-mf-bsc @maybanksbabe @sarah5462 @slut4drudy @lvvrgrl @dancinglikeaballerina @somerandos-world @shahanaazsoumah @peachpitlover @sya-skies @julesmendoza890 @emmalandry @blueicequeen19 @madelynie @jeyusosgirl @urbestieboo @payton-dixonreader @l1lactheflower @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @gillybear17

[cokoweee]

It’s midnight which means it’s HALLOWEEN!

It's very spooky bc I’m bad at writing

~

Missing people brought with it a certain kind of ache.

 An ache that spreads and lingers. An ache that screams something should be there. An ache that grows when he knows they won’t come back. 

Nothing physical had been taken from him, he knew that. His fingers were missing, sure, but they were easily replaced. He had lost far more important things. Things he would never be able to replace. His body burned as if all his limbs had been ripped from his body. As if his body had taken it upon itself to manifest their absence. 

What a curious and powerful thing love was. The idea that you can love someone so much that their absence takes pieces of you. 

He didn’t like thinking about that too much. Didn’t like mulling over that day to come up with a way he could have prevented this whole mess. The idea that if he had done something differently, he wouldn’t be alone right now. 

And yet, here he was. 

In all honesty, he’d expected screaming, wailing, the gnashing of teeth; the whole bit. He’d expected anything other than this- this nothingness.

The silence of his misery was jarring. 

Nothing but him and his thoughts. 

There was no reason for him to put on a spectacle if there was no one to see it. Nothing but the walls of his empty house and the coding of a mechanical friend. 

Better for those thoughts to rot in his chest than messy the air anyway. 

He set his bō down on the shelf softly. There was no use for it anymore. Why he’d even held onto it for the last few weeks was a mystery to him. 

His eyes burned as blinked away his sleeplessness. 

The music only worked so well.

He ran his fingers over the cool metal. It had been two months. Four weeks since his oldest brother took his final breath, and fifty nine days since he had lost his twin. 

But who was counting?

He inhaled deeply as he turned away from the shelf. His hand wandered to his wrist, he ran his hand over the worn fabric sitting there. Just as quickly as he had placed his hand, he yanked it away. He didn’t need to wear the fabric down anymore. It was the last he had of them. 

The sink was dripping loudly in the bathroom a few feet away. It was a constant rhythmic noise. If he just turned the bolt a smidge it would stop.  

There was no one to be useful for anymore. Anything he did was just a distraction from the issue at hand. Better to just let it stay the way it was. 

His feet stayed planted on the floor. 

Taking a few wobbly steps to the bathroom he closed the door. He needed to be out of the sight of anything his brothers had touched. The masks were the only exception. He couldn’t let the last of his brothers collect dust on the shelf. 

They had each gotten their own bathroom after Shredder. He’d liked it that way a few months ago. 

His head thunked against the wall as he sank to the floor, tile burning ice cold against his skin. It was nice, bringing him a little closer to reality. He was stuck in nothing more than a dim haze. Just enough to take away the sharp edge of reality, but not quite enough to dull his pain. 

He closed his eyes leaning against the wall as he took a deep breath. 

He needed to stop thinking so much. Running circles through his head was doing him no good. Maybe shutting his eyes for a moment would help him get back on track. Then he could work on making sure Shelldon couldn’t leave him too. 

~

He jolted, his eyes snapping open, an odd sound filling his ears.

The sink was still dripping.

Louder this time. 

He didn’t move to fix it, instead pressing himself further against the wall. Sighing, he turned his gaze to the peeling wallpaper in front of him. Tiny flowers were fading from the landscape, their vibrant colors were long gone, age wearing their liveliness away. 

It smelled weird. Like old people and musty books. 

The wallpaper was hideous, and practically falling off the wall. He needed to replace it. It was actually a wonder Leo hadn’t commented on it. How it had even managed to stay up so long was a mystery to him. 

Blinking blearily, he reached out to peel the wall covering. He peeled a strip off the wall, reveling in the sound it made as he tore it away. He reached forward again, only to be interrupted by an agitating, grating voice. 

“Hey!” Leo shouted, his voice echoing against the small bathroom walls. “Drax ‘ll probably throw you off a roof or something if you mess with his stuff.” 

He frowned, his gaze still focused on the wallpaper in front of him. “It’s ugly.” 

Warm hands pulled his arm back as he continued to rip the design from the wall. 

He waved the hands away half heartedly, he didn’t want to deal with his twin right now. All he wanted was to go back to bed. But alas, the wallpaper was a more pressing issue than his sleep schedule at the moment. 

He shuddered as his hand passed through a solid mixture of warm air before returning to normal temperature. Almost like someone had taken a bag of gelatin and formed it into a person. 

There, but not quite. 

The dripping from the sink grew louder as he turned around. 

“Leo?”His voice came out pleading, tone shaking with audible stress. He hated it. Hated sounding pathetic and small. 

Leo stood in front of him, blood pouring from his carapace and pooling against the floor.

 “No. No. No. No.” He waved his hands around, attempting to brush off his brother as he turned his gaze away. “ This isn’t right.” 

Leo gave a smile and waved. His carapace made a grounding noise as he moved, filling the small room with a horrid creaking noise. It almost drowned out the dripping. Almost. Blood dripped faster down his side as he smiled wider, moving to sit on the sink counter. 

Leo opened his mouth to say something. He watched in horror as  blood poured from his mouth and dripped lethargically onto the floor. It was almost rhythmic. Almost in time with his breathing. Leo didn’t get to get a sound out before Don let out a yelp. 

“You’re- this isn’t real.”He backed against the wall, the rough edges of ripped wallpaper rubbing against his bare shell. 

Leo’s voice broke through the insistent dripping as he gave another winning smile. “Uh, pretty sure I’m real.” 

The dripping grew louder and louder, in tandem with his rapid heart beat. He watched the constant drip from his brother coat the floor, echoing along the walls until it was the only thing he could hear.

He turned his face to the wall. “Go away.”

“I’m trying to help.” 

“Go away.” He repeated, a little louder.

The dripping filled his head as he focused on the wallpaper. 

He breathed in and out. 

Maybe if he tapped his markings, they’d stop glowing, just like his nightlight. He patted his arm twice. He groaned as the glow seemed to burn brighter almost immediately. 

He yanked his hand away from his arm and focused on his breathing. Only for it to be  interrupted as something  hit the back of his head.

He ignored it. 

Another shampoo bottle turned projectile hit the back of his head, this time much harder. 

“Stop.” 

“No can do hermano.” He could practically hear the grin on his twin’s face. “Get up. Then maybe I’ll stop.”

“M’ not moving.”

Something clattered behind him as Leo presumably jumped off the counter to look for more things to throw at him. 

“I. Am. Trying. To. Help. You.” Leo said slowly, articulating each word, his voice a little strained. “I mean seriously dude? Four in one body wash?  You clearly need my help.”

“It’s cost effective.” He grumbled. “You're not doing a great job with the whole helping thing. So you can go ahead and go now.” He covered his ears as the dripping burned into his mind.

Leo grabbed his arm again. “Why won’t you let me help?” 

He shoved the arm away, shuddering as his hand touched the semi-solid of his twin. “Because you’re not helping! Have you ever thought about that?”

“Don- I”

“No! I don’t want to hear it. Did you think at all? What’s it like for me to have you here again? But I can’t keep you. You leave. Again and again and again you leave. How am I supposed to get over this if you’re still here but still so far away?” He stopped, tearing more at the wallpaper until the tearing was louder than the dripping. 

Leo was blessedly silent. 

“I love you. Do you know how hard that is? To have to deal with all this- this not you?” He waved his arm wildly, gesturing to the torn wallpaper and dim blue light illuminating the small bathroom. 

“I didn’t think abo-”

“Of course you didn’t! Because this isn’t about you! It’s about me! The one you left behind. I wouldn’t have thought that after killing yourself for me that you’d still be so self centered! And despite it all, you’re acting like nothing happened Leo! Well news flash! Something happened!” He spun around, glaring at the glowing form of his twin. “You died Leo. You left me here.” 

There’s a silence in the room, broken only by the constant drip of the sink. Something in his head is ringing, and it’s growing every second.

“I’m sor-”

“You threw away your life to save mine, but now you aren’t even letting me live it.” He whispered, taking his hands off of his ears to run them over his arms. “Stop trying to play the hero. You failed at that when you died.”

Leo responded, equally quiet. “I can’t leave you like this.” 

“Why?” He rasped “ I’m doing just great.” He waved his hand around the room wildly. “Can’t you see? I’m doing great!” He repeated, laughing as the wall paper peeled away from the drywall. “Just great.”

Leo frowned, blood dripping faster down his face as he watched his twin. The blood trailed down his body and onto the floor, costing the tile in sticky red warmth. It puddled around his body, just like it had when Don had left him alone on the concrete two months ago. 

He laughed harder as the thick blood poured nearer to him. Running to the toilet he jumped to the tub so it couldn’t touch him. 

“How is this helping me?” He screeched. “What do you think this is doing for me?Just leave me alone.”

Leo frowned. “I’m not sorry for loving you.” He stood up slowly. “Why won’t you just love me too?” 

There was a tense moment of silence before he disappeared into the air. Blue sparks stained the air where he had stood moments before. His heart wrenched as the light only made it to his nose. 

He was taller than his twin. 

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his shaky body. He’s both too light and too heavy. His soul feels like it’s floating above him, watching his flesh body move while he stays far away. 

He sat in the tub for a moment. A bath would be nice right now. If he wasn’t so tired. He stared into the mirror on the wall, and jumped. Shadows curled around him, wrapping against his arms and snaking along the tub. He froze, sparing a beat to look down, only to see that there was nothing there.

“Just you.” Something whispered from inside the walls, a giggle barely contained in its voice. 

“Just me.” He repeated. 

How cruel that felt right now. 

The shadow form nodded eagerly, slinking its arm around his shoulder. It whispered something in his ear too mumbled to be understood. Just general phonics and a prickle of amusement. 

“I tried everything to keep them with me. I'm only so smart.” He said desperately. “ I’m wondering if I was ever smart to begin with. They’re not here because of my failure.” 

The shadow snickered as he fumbled over his words. 

That’s right.

It's all your fault.

What a monster 

Such a bad brother 

He took a step off the toilet, gasping as his foot was drenched in warmth. How had he forgotten about the blood coating the floor?

Steeling his teeth, he jumped off his perch and landed on the ground. He needed to get out of here. 

His feet flew from beneath him as he slipped in the bloody mess of the floor. 

His hoodie quickly soaked through as he lay stunned for a moment. Scrambling to get up, his hands fumbled against the slick floor. His face splashed in the puddle, his mouth filling with a hot metallic flavor. 

He shoved the blood away from his body, forcing it to the corners of the room. His body shivered in discomfort  as the blood coated him in warmth. 

The masks. 

He ran to the sink, not caring anymore that he was coated in blood. He needed the masks clean. He couldn’t lose those too. 

Water rushed over his hands, but the blood didn’t run clean. It had only been a few minutes. How had they dried already? 

He frantically rubbed them under the stream of water waiting for blue or orange to peek through the mess. 

They never did. 

He sank to the ground, clutching them to his chest as if that would make them whole again. The door opened quietly revealing the old goat. He’d forgotten today was grocery day. 

Draxum stared for a moment before grabbing his arm and hoisting him up. 

“Go put some dry clothes on. I’ll forgive the fact that you’ve managed to flood the bathroom and tore down the wallpaper if you will go to sleep, boy.”

His frenzied eyes searched the room. Why wasn’t Draxum horrified? The bathroom was covered with the remains of his brother. 

“Ah.” Draxum said softly. “Let’s get out of here and get cleaned up and we can talk, yeah?”

He nodded, dazed, and let himself be led from the room.

~

The blood had stained his skin. No amount of scrubbing had faded the red on his hands. It coated everything he touched, leaving prints of memories he could have made with his twin. 

Now all he has is what could have been. 

Draxum was busy in the corner brewing tea. The kettle screamed through the silence. It hurt his ears, but he forced himself to focus on it. Better than listening to the insistent drip of the sink. 

Drax said he’d fixed it. But it was all he heard. Louder even than his own thoughts. 

“Sheldon?” 

A small automatic voice immediately quipped “Yes?”

“Run a perception check. Please.”

There was a quiet hum as Sheldon scanned the room. “Just you and Drax!” He said brightly. 

He hummed softly, nodding against the dining table. “Kay.” 

“Boy there is nothing you could have done to prevent that day from going any differently.”

“But there is!” He groaned. “I’ve run through my head so many times. If I had just moved a little faster, built my shield a little faster Mikey and I could have stayed up there to help. We wouldn’t have needed to open the portal because Leo would have never left.” 

“But the day is done. No use mulling over it now. You can’t change the past. But you can change the present and the future.”

“Don’t go all therapy on me. I could have saved them and I didn’t because I’m not good enough.” 

Draxum hummed thoughtfully. “Greif is the price we pay for love. You feel this way because your heart is full of love. I don’t see an issue with that at all.” He passed a mug of tea to him. “You’re trying to push away your grief because it’s weighing you down. But it’s a way of hanging onto the love you had for them. It’ll never go away. Find a way to make it manageable.”

“I don’t have a way to do that.” He mumbled, stirring the tea with a small spoon. 

“That's why I said find something boy.” He deadpanned. “Grief is love without a place to go. Find something, or someone, to give that love to.” 

He sat silently for a moment. There was no one he had anymore to give any love to. Maybe sometime he’d find someone. But right now?

It was just him. 

“I don’t think I can.” He mumbled quietly.

The old goat let him sit for a moment, probably waiting for him to come to the sudden revelation that he could! He could find a way to move on from this! What a stupid idea.

“When was the last time you went for a swim?” Draxum asked suddenly. 

“It’s been a while…” 

“ When you swim do you hold your breath?” He asked, face carefully blank. 

“I exhale as I swim.” He said slowly.

Draxum raised an eyebrow. “Why.”

“So I don’t suffocate.” He paused.  “Can’t take in more air if your lungs are already full. ”

“Exactly. And how long do you take to breathe?”

“Maybe half a second. Just enough time to get my head up for air and then I’m back under.”

“You are holding your breath And it is suffocating you. You need to find another way to deal with this.”

“I’m doing fine-”

“Let me finish boy. Find a way to exhale. It’s not going to be comfortable, but you can’t go on like this. You need to find a way to place that love somewhere else. Find someone to give you that breath of air, if only for a second.” 

He nodded slowly. He wasn’t going to do it of course, but if he nodded the goat would leave.

“Can I go to bed now?”

Draxum nodded “I’ll take you to your room.” 

~

He groaned and threw a pillow over his head. Rain pounded against the window, but a quiet drip from the kitchen was filling the room. Somehow, it managed to triumph over the storm raging outside.

 It was getting annoying. 

He got out of bed slowly and shuffled to the kitchen, wrench in hand. The kitchen was empty. Just him and the god forsaken sink. He twisted the pipe slightly, just enough to stop the drip of water, and headed to the fridge. 

Kendra had made muffins earlier, pumpkin chocolate chip. She wouldn’t notice if he took one right? 

“Watcha got there?” She said, voice still thick with sleep, annoyment creeping through nonetheless. 

“A smoothie.” He answered immediately.

“Put it back.” She knocked her head against his side. “Why’re you awake?”

He pointed wordlessly to the sink. 

She nodded. “I’m going back to bed. Your muffin is in the cupboard over there.”

He frowned. “Not with the rest?”

“I know you don’t like ‘em cold so I left yours out.”

His face stretched into a grin. 

Something funny bubbled in his chest. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time. He smiled a little wider. Kendra had done that for him. Without prompting, just her own observation of his habits.

He scooped her up into his arms, giving a tight squeeze. “Thank you.”

“Mhm.” She patted his head absently. “G’night.”

He watched her give a tired smile, a funny feeling in his chest. For years he’d spent each day convincing himself that he was unlovable. That he was a monster incapable of feeling. Because if he couldn’t feel, and he couldn’t love, there was nothing to lose. 

But he had lost himself. Because as it turns out, you can’t push that sort of stuff down. People came into his life, unpredictable and wild. No longer could he push away his feelings, not when they were right in front of him. Tangible and breathing. 

The safety she brought was irreplaceable. The peace in her presence. Her quiet attentiveness. The surrender it brought from him. 

He took a bite of the muffin. There was a sense of awe in the fact that she had seen all of him. The broken fragmented pieces of his soul, his inner cacophony and yet, she was still there.He wanted it all. The pointless bickering, dancing in the rain, the jokes, the fights. He wanted her love. He wanted all of her. 

He’d always heard the idea that love would take his breath away. But that didn’t feel quite right. She didn’t take anything from him. She reminded him how to breathe when he had forgotten how. 

What a curious thing love was. That it could cause him to break off pieces of himself to give to her, and feel shameful that  it wasn’t all of him. 

He took a deep breath, turning the muffin over in his hand as tears pricked in his eyes.

“They can not be that bad.” 

He shook his head. His mouth opened, but no words came out. 

She opened her arms in invitation and he welcomed them gladly. She sat down, forcing him to follow. His head was placed in her lap as she began to braid his hair. 

She didn’t say a word, just a few quiet yawns as she worked. Tears fell faster as she turned on a playlist to battle the silence of the night. She wiped them away without a word, as if it were a normal daily occurrence. 

He wanted to be here. He wanted to live for something other than a heavy obligation to continue his family’s legacy. 

“I don’t wanna leave.” He said, voice a bit raspy.

“M’ not goin anywhere.”

“I know.” 

He smiled.

Loving her felt as natural as breathing.

~

doin a lil jig to distract you from my writing skills 💃

-writing anon

still reeling from the vengeance saga

This is me reading this: CAUSE GODDAMN I LOVE YOUR WORDS U GOOFY LIL PEANUT SMUGGLER

SIGHHHH Looks like I AM gunna keep going with the comic

[aroeddiediaz]

8x01 coda- depression cupcakes

(Sorry this is super depressing but Eddie needs a nice long sulk after that devastation of a birthday party. Also maybe mild tw for some kind of disordered eating.)

The cupcakes should taste like ash, Eddie imagines. Cardboard, maybe wet sand. Something bland and sour, to match the blankness Eddie has been feeling as he watches Christopher get sung Happy Birthday without him, cut into a cake without him, play with his dozens of new friends in his grandparents’ backyard without him. It went on for over an hour before the laptop sitting abandoned on the picnic table in an El Paso backyard lost battery and winked out.

Instead, the cupcakes are sweet. Cloying, sticky sweet. The frosting sticks to the roof of his mouth and bits of crumbs get stuck behind his teeth. The kind of sugary confection that would have given Eddie a sugar rush back when he was Christopher’s age.

Eddie chews his way through his first cupcake mechanically, then reaches for a second one. Behind him, Buck and Tommy make quiet rustling noises as they take down the decorations and balloons they had helped him set up earlier. None of them have spoken a word since the interactive part of the video call ended.

The second cupcake wrapper falls in a limp heap on the coffee table on top of the first one. Eddie grabs a third cupcake. His teeth ache and his lips tingle as he takes another bite.

What if Chris never wants to come back? What if this is all their relationship will ever be, and Eddie fucked it all up for the last time? What if Chris is so happy with his goddamn pool club and his new neighborhood kid friends and Eddie’s parents build him a pool so he never comes home?

It takes increasing amounts of effort, it feels, to wallow each thick wad of chewed up cupcake matter. It clumps up, sticks to his throat. He can taste sugar now, even when his mouth is empty.

He takes another bite, only to taste dry crumbs on paper. He already finished the third cupcake.

He drops the third wrapper on top of the other two. Somehow Eddie doesn’t feel full, he doesn’t think. At least, no fuller than he had been before he started on the cupcakes. There’s a creeping sour taste in his mouth, and some sensitivity in his molars when he runs his tongue along the gums.

He reaches for a fourth cupcake.

Buck’s hand lashes out and grabs him by the wrist before he reaches the tray of cupcakes.

“Uh, whoa there, buddy,” Buck says with a hesitant chuckle. “Maybe save some for the rest of us, huh?”

Eddie blinks. Suddenly, like his senses had been turned down and just now returned to full volume, he feels aware of sensations all over himself, none of them particularly pleasant. Sticky, greasy fingers. An unpleasant rumble somewhere in his intestines. More dry stickiness across his mouth, chin, and for some reason, a single fingerprint on his cheekbone. And his mouth tastes like a sewer rat had crawled in to die.

Eddie gags a little, trying to summon enough saliva to wash out the sourness in his mouth. He struggles to his feet, ready to duck into the kitchen to grab a cup of water, and maybe gargle in the sink a few times.

Before he can make it anywhere, Tommy’s there, holding a bottle out to him. Eddie takes it gratefully, not quite able to look him in the eyes. “Thanks,” he mumbles as he cracks open the cap and takes a long swig.

Eddie takes a look around. The decorations are all gone now, all the streamers and party hats and balloons. Everything except the half-eaten tray of cupcakes in front of him. Looking at it turns his stomach a little now.

“You guys take the rest of the cupcakes home with you, ok?” Eddie says. “I think i just ate more sugar in one sitting than I did all month long.”

Buck and Tommy exchange a wordless glance over Eddie’s head. Silently, Tommy reaches for the tray of cupcakes.

Buck nudges Eddie’s shoulder. It’s probably the one part of him that isn’t covered in sugar residue. “Hey,” he says softly. “I know that was rough. But I promise things won’t be like this forever. He’ll come around, you’ll see.”

“When, Buck?” Eddie says, clutching the bottle tightly enough that the plastic bends and creaks. “It’s been months already, and he’s barely said a word to me.”

Buck tries for a smile, but his eyes are tight and his voice trembles a little. “You just gotta show him. Show that you’re not going anywhere.”

Eddie nods helplessly. Nothing to do but sit and wait. Sit and pray.

Eddie missed three birthdays when Chris was a baby, out on deployments or in a hospital waiting for his bullet holes to heal up. All he can do is hope that by Chris’s next birthday, things will be different.

tagging: @cal-daisies-and-briars @aspecbuddie @pirrusstuff @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @lemonzestywrites @your-catfish-friend @inkmortal-trash389 @evanbegins @wildlife4life @eddiebabygirldiaz @diazsdimples @epicbuddieficrecs @kitteneddiediaz @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @coatedpanda16 @nicotinewrites @estheticpotaeto @babytrapperdiaz @snowviolettwhite @wikiangela @jesuiscenseedormir @made-ofmemories @asexual-fandom-queen

[occasionallycoinpin]

i need to know what that storyline for oc 110 was

i’ll be honest, i started writing it down, got distracted by other things, and then completely forgot about it until now

so i guess i’ll dump what i have right now, and finish it up later

occasionally coinpin 155

(collapsed for length)

(this is an m&l dream team riff so there’s a good amount of similarities bit whatev)

Premise:

Many years after the competitions end, a miraculous discovery! Leafy, while going through old messages to delete to save memory, finds an odd, unopened email from January 1st, 2012. As it turns out, Dream Island wasn’t destroyed all those years ago! It was simply relocated to a new part of the ocean, the robotic staff waiting ever so patiently for their new owner to claim her island. Leafy, ever the kind soul, invites everyone to Dream Island for a wonderful vacation!

As the BFDI crew will soon come to find out, there is a very literal reason the island is named DREAM Island.

The Arrival:

The charter ship arrives at the island rather precariously, so much so that Pin, observing the docking with her friends, falls off the ship and has her point stuck in the ground. While the robotic servants assist her, Coiny and the others must head along for the introduction tour.

Rather predictably, Coiny and Firey start feuding about something or other, which begins the first boss fight: Metal Firey (they had him eat a yoyleberry earlier to not burn down the ship).

- A tutorial fight for the basic mechanics, very simple as the only move Coiny has available is Jump.

- Done in a few hits + counterattacks.

The delay caused by the fight allows Pin to catch up with everyone else, and the welcoming festivities continue.

After a bit of exploring the Dreamscape Hotel, Coiny and Pin stumble upon a door which a robotic servant says simply leads to the basement. And indeed it does! Though the servant neglected to mention that there weren’t actually any stairs down, and the door simply led to an open chasm that the duo fall into. Time to find a way out.

The Discovery:

The basement is filled with crud you’d expect to see in a basement, as well as some basic enemies. The duo find the Hammers down here, an essential tool. As they descend further the basement starts looking less basement-like and starts looking more temple-like: the Dreamscape Hotel was built on top of the ruins of an ancient temple.

Deep in the temple, they find a wall mural of an ancient civilization seeking salvation in a figure that bears an awfully unsettling resemblance to Pin. But before the duo can dwell on this any longer, two Stone Pin statues come to life and attack!

- An exam fight for both using two characters at once as well as using the Hammers.

- The Stone Pins can only be Hammered at first, but if properly countered they will fall on their backs, allowing Jumps that deal critical hits.

After the fight, who else shows up but Golf Ball, immediately berating the duo for destroying such priceless archeological artifacts. She’s down here as she’s set up a Lab in the basement (because of course she did) and wanted to see what all the noise was about. The duo follow her back to the Lab.

The Dream World:

A small crowd has gathered in the Lab, curious as to what the ruckus was about. GB takes this opportunity to go into a lecture about a new phenomenon she’s discovered on the island: certain spots emanate a strange energy, one that she is currently researching located right in the middle of the Lab. Pin, not really paying attention, investigates the spot and nearly immediately passes out. GB, taking this as an insult to her lecture, goes on another rant, completely distracting her from the fact a portal has opened over the sleeping Pin.

Everyone in the crowd is surprised by this development, except for Pillow, who was seemingly expecting it. She hurriedly grabs Needle and jumps into the portal. Coiny, not one to stand by while his friend gets kidnapped, hurries in after them.

Coiny finds himself in Dreamy Dreamscape Hotel and soon meets up with Dreamy Pin, the embodiment of Pin’s mental self image. In battle, Dreamy Pin will augment Coiny, boosting his stats and enhancing his Jump and Hammer. After some exploration, the duo find Pillow and the now unconscious Needle, and a boss fight against Pillow begins.

- Pillow starts the fight by summoning a legion of False Dreamy Pins to surround her, which can both attack independently and assist Pillow with her own attacks.

- Partway through the fight, Pillow steals Coiny’s Hammer and disguises herself and the False Dreamy Pins as False Dreamy Coinys. She then proceeds to shuffle herself into the crowd, and the player must keep track of which one is Pillow. Jumping on the right one removes the disguises and returns the Hammer, while Jumping on a wrong one reveals it as a False Dreamy Pin and deals damage.

- After taking enough damage, Pillow flees the fight.

The Disaster:

Despite the fight, Pillow has enough energy left to enact her plan: she stabs Needle into the ground, creating a crack that spews a strange energy. Outside, in the Real World, the portal begins emitting this energy. Strange, dark crystals begin growing on some of the robotic servants, as well as a good amount of the BFDI crew, all throughout the island.

After the energy clears, Pillow takes Needle down into the hole she created, which closes up after them. Coiny and Dreamy Pin are dumbfounded, and, after breaking some of the dark crystal blocking the way, have no choice but to return to the Real World to reassess.

When Coiny returns out of the portal, and Pin awakens, GB can’t help but start asking a million questions about what had just happened. After one of the strange crystals formed in the Lab, GB attempted to harvest it to no avail before it mysteriously evaporated. After the duo fill her in, she deduces that the crystals must exist in the Real and Dream Worlds simultaneously, and while it is indestructible in the Real World, it is possible to break while in the Dream World. GB dubs this material Crystalized Somnolescent Energy, whereas Coiny purports the much more popular name Nightmarium.

Various objects start rushing into the Hotel, saying that more crystals are around and that anyone afflicted by them has fallen into a coma. By now, the duo’s mission is two-fold: find out where Pillow disappeared to, and destroy all of the Nightmarium that has grown across the island. While GB needs to stay in her Lab to perform more research, she produces the GB-Drone: a miniature drone that allows GB to communicate with the duo while they’re out and about. The duo set out to the closest location to the Hotel: the Fantasy Fairgrounds.

and that’s all i’ve got for now. if people seem to like this i’ll present more of the story in this fashion, and if not i’ll just dump the rest when it’s completely finished

[dragonaboni-blog]

Facing The Cold (Friede x Orla)

Welcome to the first Friede Friday! (So late, sorry :"D)

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this adorable fluff piece between Friede and Orla, an idea I had while freezing after a rainy day. I hope you like it! Series: Pokemon Horizons

Characters: Friede, Orla and Mollie.

Ships: Friede x Orla / Braveasagishipping (Fluff)

Friede Friday Drabbles - NEXT

---

Everyone knew Friede's low tolerance for the cold, even though he insisted it wasn't that bad, it was quite common to find him shivering when the temperature was low.

And that day was no exception.

"H-How long d-do we h-have to g-g-get back?"

"I told you to take a scarf."

That particular day, after a heavy rain that left the city full of puddles and a rather chilly atmosphere, it was Friede and Orla's turn to do the shopping for the flying boat. While the still-cloudy sky was a clear warning of the temperature that would persist, the ship's captain insisted it wasn't that bad…

Until finally, the cold became too intense to ignore.

"I-It's not t-that c-cold either."

"Oh for Arceus' sake, Friede, your teeth are chattering."

The other's complaint was drowned out by a sudden icy draft that Orla barely noticed due to the scarf around her neck, unlike her companion, who flinched as his body shuddered.

The mechanic sighed, almost imagining the scolding Mollie would give them if Friede ended up getting sick.

She took a long breath, stopping.

"Come here."

Friede looked at her strangely before obeying. The girl removed her scarf, hanging it around the other's neck and tying it to protect his neck. Friede looked at her in great surprise and tried to remove the knitted garment.

"W-What are you doing? No…"

"My tolerance for the cold is much better than yours, I don't need it."

"But…"

"And if you hadn't been so stubborn, it would be a different story." She adjusted the scarf, smiling gently. "But it doesn't bother me either; in fact, it suits you."

The mustard color of the garment matched the young professor's amber eyes perfectly; in fact, it even made them more… Striking. She tenderly caressed his cheeks, and Friede placed his hands on hers.

"I don't want you to get cold because of me."

"I won't, don't worry…"

They stared at each other for a few moments, as if they had barely noticed each other's closeness: their breaths collided, their noses touching, their lips a short distance away… If she wanted, she could lean in a little closer and maybe…

Both of them heard the sound of a car speeding across. Before they could react, a gigantic wave of dirty water rose up and soaked them completely.

They both stared at each other, completely stunned by what had happened, but their confusion didn't last long. Friede snorted and soon burst into laughter, while Orio soon joined in, laughing as well.

Well… Things couldn't get any worse, right?

A loud sneeze echoed inside the infirmary.

"You two are a lost cause." Mollie grunted, crossing her arms. "I told you to bundle up before leaving!"

"It wasn't our fault!" Friede squealed, coughing a little. "How were we to know the car was jealous of us?!"

Orla couldn't help but smile nervously… She never expected that little soaking would lead to them catching a cold, and now, they were both at the mercy of the nurse's scolding.

Mollie sighed.

"Now, do me a favor and stay in bed. I'm looking at you, Friede."

The named man stuck his tongue out at her, prompting a few chuckles from Orla as they both watched the nurse stride out of the room, presumably to bring them lunch.

Orla just looked at Friede.

"Well, you heard her, we need to rest a little…" He wrapped his arms around his body and pushed him until he was lying on the bed. Friede stifled a complaint.

"It would have been easier if we slept in separate beds."

"We both know you'd run away if you had the chance."

Friede snorted loudly, but eventually turned to hug her, just a little longer. Orla laughed as he stroked her hair tenderly.

Even in a more comfortable temperature, he would always seek her warmth.

---

A week without hearing from Friede -cries-

[imactuallyacartooncharacter]

CUDDLE PILE!!!

Been procrastinating to draw something based on my post apocalypse au for months :,) But I finally did it!

Gonna take on the opportunity to remake the post explaining this au (and delete the original one). So here it goes:

In this au, all of the main characters were born in the same time period as Marceline, so, in the post apocalyptic world.

Marceline

Pretty much the same backstory, but she met Bonnibel when they were kids when she accidentally got separated from Simon and Bonnie helped Marceline find him. They remained friends and would bump into each other every now and then. When Simon left, Marceline stayed with Bonnibel for a while but ended up leaving. She's still a vampire hunter.

Finn

Grew up in a human colony in Ooo. Ooo is a very anti mutant place at this point, but he was always really curious about them. Always wanted to explore more of Ooo but his mom has always been really protective. Once he went out exploring by himself and got chased off by a vampire, which resulted in him ending up lost ans running into Jake.

Jake

His life was as normal as it could've been for a mutant with strechy powers in the post apocalypse before he met Finn. He avoided humans but didn't harvest any deep hatred towards them. Tried to get rid of Finn at first but they ended up saving each other's butts at some point and Jake promised to help Finn find his colony. They became good friends in the process. Marceline saved them from a vampire once and they started following her around to find out if she was one of them, ended up becoming friends in the process and stuck with her to have a better survival chance.

Bonnibel

Pretty much the same childhood, except she always had to hide from humans since she's a mutant. She never built her kingdom (at least not yet), spends a lot of her time building weapons and deffense mechanisms (Neddy's tree is her base). Met Marceline, Finn and Jake 'cause they fell into a trap she had set. She recognizes Marceline and lets them out, and the two of them meet each other for the first time in years. Bonnie becomes a part of their team, and Finn and Jake did not trust her at first, like, at all. She just had a bit of a mad scientist vibe that they didn't know how to interpret. When Marceline was turned into a vampire, they didn't want to leave Bonnie alone with her, scared that Bonnie would hurt her, but she was the only one who didn't trigger Marceline's blood thirst. Finn and Jake started warming up to her when they realized how caring she was with Marceline during this time, but they only became actual friends on an ocasion when Marceline was away visiting Simon and Bonnibel got captured by a group of mutant hunters who tried to kill her and Finn and Jake saved her.