#this show started out so good and i feel like its been deteriorating the last few eps rip

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Love & Duty - Prologue

PAIRING: Aegon ii Targaryen x Targaryen!fem!Reader x Aemond Targaryen

WORDS: 2,356.

SUMMARY: After years that felt like an eternity, Rhaenyra pleads for her elder sister, Daella II to return, as King Viserys’ health continues to deteriorate. Talks of the succession to the Iron Throne are in question, and other matters concerning love and duty... 

WARNINGS: disownment, swearing. 

A/N - I did NOT think I was ever going to start a series, but here we are. I really hope you guys enjoy this little snippet and the chapters to come. It’s been like the main fantasy playing out in my head since the show ended. I really hope this isn't a fail, I still try to finish my series even if its not a fan favourite, but we’ll see. Really hope you guys are excited for this!!! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF THIS IS GOOD OR SHIT!

The House of the Dragon was unworldly, a house unlike any other, created from the dark magic of fire and blood, the only thing that could tear the House of the Dragon down was itself…

Princess Daella II Targaryen, the eldest daughter of King Viserys Targaryen and Queen Aemma Arryn, sister to the Realm’s Delight, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, had abdicated her birthright as the ‘rightful’ heir to the Iron Throne. Many men of the realm, old and foolish, did not argue in her decision, for ‘how could a woman ever dictate the fate of the realm’. Others defeated against her cause to abdicate, woefully accepted the princess’ decision. Ultimately in the end, Daella had decided in accordance to herself.

Her father, King Viserys, enraged by her sudden decision, found it inexcusable, all these outbursts and confrontations, for the sake of love…

“Love Daella, love is the death of duty. Heed my words you foolish little girl!” Viserys had spat from atop the Iron Throne, his voice like venom, vexing at his eldest, first born daughter for her unorthodox decision against his rule.

“The path that you have so ignorantly chosen has never been done before, Daella. And what I intended for you, for your future, proclaiming you, a woman, as my heir, has neither been done either! And yet here you stand, tormenting me, after I vouched for you against the realm!”

A sudden, swaying movement of her father’s hand against the metal material of throne, sliced a gash of his hand, a trickle of blood oozing out slowly. Viserys winced at the sharp pain, his daughter instinctively took step forward, before stopping herself. An internal, root in herself wanting to help her father, as they exchanged a fleeting glance at one another. However, the reality set in and the contempt returned.

It was true however, many a lords having done obeisance, following the King’s decree, accepted Daella as his proclaimed heir.

“Father, I did not ask for this! For any of it! And yet, you, you are the one that burdened me!-” Daella shouted in return, the fury and agony a molten mess palpable in her broken voice.

Withdrawing a deep breath in, Daella regained her strength and courage to talk, her fists tightly clenched at her sides, Viserys’ eyes observing his daughter’s defeated state, and yet he remained in denial, anger only fuelling him.

“I have made my decision, Father… And that is my decision alone.”

Silence had befallen the throne room, and it felt like the world outside had gone silent too, as it awaited for something, ears pricked up on the outside walls.

As Daella met her father’s rageful eyes, she’d never noticed how dark, how desolate and haunting the throne room appeared in this hour of the night.

“And all for some man, who knows no honour, who owns no titles or lands. Who knows not what he has ignorantly led you to sacrifice?”

“My love, Father, is mine to give to whom I will… For I shall warn you, duty can also be the death of love.”

The final look she’d taken in of her father was a bitter and brutal one, indeed. He’s face shocked, yet wounded as Viserys mistook her words for a threat.

Turning her back for what would be the last time in what would feel like an eternity, Daella the Defiant, as many had come to notoriously name her, walked away from the Throne, her father and all the responsibilities that came with it. As the hot tears swelled in her eyes and treacled down her flushed cheeks, her father’s hostile words that echoed the hall as she left, would haunt her memories from that day, echoing in her mind, only for his voice to grow fainter, more quieter as time passes by.

Vile names, he spat and hurled towards her: whore, incompetent, irresponsible child, “not my daughter.”

Just as Viserys relinquished his eldest the right of being his kin, Daella burst the throne room doors open with such force, only to come to a sudden halt, as her eyes focused on the sad sight of her grieving, and heavily pregnant mother, Aemma, and her younger sister, Rhaenyra, whom was clinging to her mother’s arm for support, fighting back the tears.

“Daella, please-” Her mother wept, unable to speak coherently nor finding the strength to finish her plea, reaching her shaking arm out as she took a step closer towards her eldest daughter… She was so much like her mother, Daella. Her twin, most individuals of the realm who’d come to see their likeness, would admit the undeniable similarity between the mother and daughter.

Daella’s eyes now puffy, from the tears she had shed and stroked off her flustered face, her lilac eyes grew mournful as she knew she could no longer stay, nor was she welcomed to. Her time in Westeros was at an end.

Tearing her focus from her mother to Rhaenyra, Daella strode towards her youngest sister, planting a long, desolate kiss on her smooth forehead, as she stroked her platinum hair strand aside, cupping her youthful face.

“I am sorry, Rhaenyra. Please... Forgive me.”

And without a second more to spare, Rhaenyra unable to muster the words to speak, Daella was gone.

House Targaryen stricken with loss again, and yet it would not be the last for the years to come...

Aemma fell to her knees, clutching her swollen stomach, in agony not from the babe within, although a mother grieving the loss of yet another child in a manner no parent should.

Disownment was a terrible thing, many believed it dishonorable, a bad omen. Daella would be shunned from the realm, no where to go for many would defend the King, out of devotion or fear, regardless. 

A Targaryen all alone in the world…  

Rhaenyra remaining unrelentlessly by her mother’s grieving side, her hand grazing her back tenderly, she could no longer resist the urge to cry. Her tearful eyes peeling from her mother and towards her father amidst the Iron Throne, Viserys could not bear the sight ahead of him, as he turned his gaze towards the stony ground. Regret, shame or pure ignorance, no one would ever remotely come to know how the King felt in that precise moment.

All that was known for certain, was that many would look to Rhaenyra as the potential heir…

****

What felt like an eternity, equated to a mere 20 years. Word of Daella’s whereabouts and doings had been speculated continuously, whispered across the realm since the night she had flown away from King’s Landing on the back of the Silverwing, the old she-Dragon, whom was once ridden by the Good Queen Alysanne. Yet no whispers of Daella, reached the ears of the King, for he refused to hear of her. No one had dared to mention nor utter her name, for the King had countless lords’ tongues cut out following her departure, who dared to ask. Viserys completely disregarded Daella’s existence. As time progressed, Viserys grew weak rotting with disease, many thought the King had forgotten her entirely, as his health declined, this proved greater. Since Rhaenyra had been declared as heir to the Iron Throne, gaining once again obeisance from the same lords and families across the realm that had originally bent the knee to her sister, she was the Queen to Be. Upon great news, was also followed by tragedy.

Queen Aemma had passed, an untimely death the realm would unitingly agree. Within the short span of a mere few years, the agonizing experience of losing one child and losing another to the Stranger, following a gruesome and horrific childbirth: Aemma’s will to live had been dismantled, damaged beyond repair. Viserys was once again, struck with heartache, as the deceased babe was a boy, one he had dreamt of for the entirety of his reign. Despite, Viserys himself, having given the order to have the maester surgically cut his late wife open from the belly, grasping at the chance that the babe could be born alive and unharmed, did not go accordingly. Having lost Aemma and the babe, Viserys guilt tortured him, and the denial was evident, for reaching such a low point, he had attempted to pin the blame of Aemma’s tragic death on Daella. Rhaenyra couldn’t bear the scrutiny and constant distasteful remarks towards her sister, she has argued many times with her father only for him to shut her down, using his authority over the Princess.

For some time, Rhaenyra was furious with her sister’s haste departure, leaving her to grow alone with people she did not trust. And yet overtime, she’d come to accept her sister’s reasons, for she had fallen for a man herself, the intense feelings of such passion, practically consume you, Rhaenyra admitted to herself.

Many times, she’d attempted desperately to contact her sister, without her father’s knowledge. Her Uncle, the Rogue Prince Daemon assisting her in her endeavours, with traders and travelers from across the realm, some reliable and others that sought for a costly price, seeking out the lost princess. Once they had received word of a possible location, neither would have thought it possible...

“Old Valyria? I thought the island was forsaken, deserted after the Doom?” Rhaenyra questioned her Uncle. Daemon rarely often showed his surprise, although this moment was inexcusable. He could not deny, the idea of a Targaryen rooting to their roots was empowering. Although, impossible he thought.

“During Jahaerys’ reign, he had everyone in the realm forbidden from traveling to it, although some people reluctant, fueled by curiosity or stupidity, you can decide… Would continue to pursue it. It seems your sister is no different. Although, unlikely Nyra.”

An internal, undeniable urge to mount Syrax and fly, on the minor chance, the slim possibility, that her sister was indeed alive and well, thriving off of the abandoned remnants of such a cursed place.

Many times, this urge would overcome Rhaenyra, and yet she could not bring herself to it, burying these impulses knowing her duty reaches far beyond her own desires. Reminding herself she was the heir, she could not abandon her duty nor torture her father anymore than what he has already endured. Regardless, over the years she had sent many detailed letters to her sister, anyone sailing that was willing or dared to make passage to the Doom, nor through a raven that was brave enough to fly or trained to travel in such an isolated direction. Regardless, she sent countless letters over the years, and despite not having received a single response in return, Rhaenyra remained optimistic of her sister’s survival and possible return.

She could recall all the minute details from the night Daella left, as though the event only happened yesterday.

“Father has remarried to Alicent Hightower… She has bore father a son, Aegon, just like the Conqueror” … “The Queen has bore father a daughter, Helaena”... “And another son, Aemond”... “Another, Daeron.”

Nonetheless, in some soothing and therapeutic way, Rhaenyra felt that writing to her sister was what kept her sane throughout the lonesome years she’d endured in her youth. The comfort and security her sister had provided her in the short years she had with her, remained embedded in Rhaenyra’s heart.

“I am now a mother, dearest sister. Three beautiful sons with my husband Ser Laenor Velaryon. I miss you, sweet sister. I hope that one day you write back to me, tell me of your adventures since the night you’d left, and of any possible nieces and nephews I might have and hope to meet…Love always, Rhaenyra.”

That would be the last letter Rhaenyra had sent for a while. The conspiracies that followed surrounding the paternity of her three sons, Jacerys, Lucerys and Joffery, would torment her for the meantime. The Hightowers, adamant on asserting Aegon II has the rightful King was underway, and Rhaenyra, alongside her Uncle Daemon, were to prepare for such discourse. This distraction, led them away from the real threat that was to present itself in the short years to come…

However, returning to King’s Landing, word of the King’s deteriorating health began to grow plain in sight. Rhaenyra had only just returned to Dragonstone, before she felt the sudden instinct to alert her sister.

“My dearest Daella. I have not written in a while, forgive me. Since I have been decreed as heir, many a lords of the council and even the Hand, Otto Hightower, himself, wish to undermine me. I need your help. Daemon and I cannot do this alone. You left me this responsibility, which I will uphold in your honour, however, return the favor of this burden I had accepted from you long ago. Father is very unwell, Daella, if you do not see him now, you will forever regret it, as I’m certain you have with Mother… Please, remember the night you left, what you said, how you felt. I am begging you, return to me my sweet sister.”

Rhaenyra was writing to a ghost, Daemon oft concluded. He had attempted repeatedly before, to convince Rhaenyra to surrender to the idea that Daella was still truly alive and well…

****

[Somewhere far across the Narrow Seas and beyond the Free Cities]

“Mother, what is it?” Y/N anxiously asked, the gentle smile disappearing on her face, for she was the first to notice her mother’s sudden yet silent departure from the supper table.

Silence had befallen the tower, overlooking the desolate horizon of the greenery that had now flourished from the ashes sunken below the canopy. Unknown creatures screeching from beyond the wild. 

“Daella-” Another a low, manly voice echoed across the room, chairs screeching on the stony ground, as her eldest arose walking over towards his mother’s side.

“My sister… Sh-She has written again.”

The unnerving silence drenched the room again, although this time it did not need to be probed. Daella slowly turned to face the family before her, each member lined and sat carefully across one another, sharing short, anxious glimpses at one another, across the long, oak table.

“Lentor [Family]...We are to return to Westeros.”

[kalcifers-blog]

IRIS FILES - ROBBIE THE ZOMBIE

CW - Physical/Mental Deterioration, Derealization, Rotting Alive, Zombification, Bugs/Insects, Medical Horror

Word Count: 994

Character Count: 4,271

CLASSIFICATION: ALTR 181502

ALTR AGE: 24 YRS OLD

ALTR HEIGHT: 5 “5

ALTR SEX: X

ALTR STATUS: UNSTABLE

ALTR INFO: 18152 contracted an unknown illness after an encounter with ALTR 114209. He was advised to keep track of his symptoms in the form of a journal; IRIS Researchers have secured the journal to track 18152's both physical and mental development.

08/09/2016

“Not been great lately, I've had cold or flu symptoms for the past two weeks, really has been messing with my focus, not great for when I'm trying to study or play as well as I usually can but I've been pushing through it!

I'm still a bit shaken up from that creepy ass guy from last month- it messed with me. I'm glad IRIS is here to help out with my case tho, hopefully they catch the freak. I keep getting all fidgety and anxious whenever I'm out in public. I mean I guess that's normal after something like that but still, doesn't make it easier. I would hang out with friends to make me feel safer but I don't wanna get them sick, hopefully this'll pass

-R”

15/09/2016

“God my head will not stop pounding, I got my headache about 2 days ago, it started off only occasionally but god it just keeps flaring up and more often. My flu hasn't gotten any better. It makes it hard to do anything, I keep getting by, slowly but surely.

-R”

22/09/2016

“Been bed ridden this week- I thought rest would probably help but, every time I sleep I keep dreaming of that guy- I don't remember it fully and it's probably just some weird trauma thing but he keeps.. I don't really know how to describe it? He keeps warping. I don't know its probably just some dream shit”

29/09/2016

“haven't been able to eat properly.. keep feeling this itch on my neck, its not bad just annoying mostly. My phone hurts my eyes. Keep dreaming of creeper.im sure he didn't actually look like that. Sorry for the bad handwriting, I'm so tired nd my hands hurt. Might try sleeping again”

30/09/2016

“woke up and puked, pretty badly too- dreaming of that guy hurts my head”

05/10/2016

“Really should call a doctor I think. I did call IRIS, I'm sure I did, they said they'd send someone over. No one came- my body hurts, everywhere it's just this dull ache. I might try

and shower or something. I don't know what to do at this point- no ones coming I've waited and waited and no one showed. The itching got worse, I don't know what's wrong with me I just need someone to come help”

“Why is no one answering my calls???”

12/10/2016

“Tried to shower, clumps of my hair just- came out. I just cried something is wrong with me I called IRIS again I told them it was urgent and I need help. The creeper answered me. It couldn't have been real- but it made me throw my phone accidentally. It broke and I can't get it to work again. I can't keep going on like this. The itching keeps spreading too- it now feels like things are crawling in my organs. I can't scratch there”

“Threw up again, mostly blood- it was clumpy, I think it was bits of my throat. It hurts my throat to breathe let alone talk”

16/10/2016

“The man in my room can't be here- I didn't let anyone in, he shouldn't be here”

23/10/2016

“I found out why I feel like there things crawling in me. I threw up a dead bug. The itching keeps going. I think I need to leave”

“I left my apartment. The air stung and I felt everyone's eyes on me. I don't care i just need help”

“IRIS won't let me in. Or near anyone.”

30/10/2016

“They're keeping me here. They keep giving me things. They poked IVs in me- the skin just teared away. It hurt so much, it feels good to actually be given medication. It's not kicked in yet but I think it should soon. The nurse gave me a funny look when I described my creep to him. I don't know, I just wanna sleep”

IRIS Supplemental:

ALTR 181502, previously known as Robert “Robbie” James, was announced as clinically dead to the public on 05/11/2016. Within the IRIS Foundation however it should be known that ALTR 181502, while maintaining a “corpse-like” appearance, is very much alive. IRIS researchers and medics have been working on a plausible theory on the rapid and alarming decline in ATLR 181502’s health after an apparent encounter with ALTR 114209. This variation of effects with 114209 seems to be an outlier. But until a working theory has been confirmed, the containment is highly necessary for both ALTR 181502 and for the wider public. Some IRIS staff have left due to unknown illnesses after contact with ALTR 181502. Their symptoms are yet to be examined but they are all in highly secure quarantine zones until they are confirmed to not be carrying a “Zombie Virus” as the research staff seem to be calling it.

As for ALTR 181502- exact details of his initial encounter with ALTR 114209 are documented in his original report to IRIS. His condition remains unpleasant. And it seems the best we can hope for is to keep him in containment until we understand what's going on.

The journal, as well as the remainder of ALTR 181502's belongings have been quarantined or burned. We managed to digitise his IRIS issued journal for the research sake. In said journal we believe the figure he describes is ALTR 114209- as it is within it's behaviour to torment it's victims while they are in mental distress.

It was discovered, by one such medic, after attempting an autopsy on ALTR 181502, that he is very much no longer human. If the hive of moth larvae that has eaten away at all of his organs have anything to say about it at least. How he still is living, albeit not pleasantly, is about as good a guess as yours as it is mine.

End Supplemental.

[send-up-my-heart-to-you]

in honor of world mental health day heres my story below the cut :)

kinda hard to talk abt this cause its somewhat triggering and ik theres gonna be ppl who think im just an emo 15 y/o, but i swear im not tryna be dramatic. im tryna make peace with my past, and also show others that despite everything, you can make it.

also, im tryna show that healing isnt all sunshine and daises. theres the good, the bad, and the ugly. you can and will survive it all

tw: sewerslide attempt, abusive parents, self harm, violence ig ?

ive died two times in my life so far.

the first time, it was my parents who killed me. december 31st, 2020, ~1.15am. i remember dragging across the hallway in my house, a throbbing sensation in my thigh, the mark already turning purple. i walked past my younger sisters' room, where my cousin was sleeping over with them, and i remember climbing into bed, hugging my pillow, crying against the pillow. that night, it was my innocence that died. my childhood happiness, per se. i remember swearing to myself in those final moments before darkness that id never forget that day. december 31st, 2020, ~1.15am.

the time between my two deaths was filled with barely anything other than self loathing. i remember trying to set goals for myself, reasons to live. i tried out new hobbies. i was never able to meet those goals, and all the hobbies bored me.

i met some of the best people ever during that time. i also met some of the worst. i might sound dramatic, cause im young and impressionable, but the people i met during that time genuinely shaped who i am. i dont wanna act like im an old soul or anything, cause im sure that in a few years imma look back and think, "shit, i was really immature." but i matured faster than others my age. i found myself faster, found things i liked, found love, found out i hated being in love.

and then i died again.

this was a recent death. june 22, 2023. my mental health had been deteriorating for months prior – i still have scars on my arms.

it was a slower death compared to the last one. i started dying at around 4.00pm. it went on for an hour before the pain became unbearable and i confessed to my parents. i didnt want to go to the hospital, i was scared of what theyd do. i threw up seven times before giving in at about 8.00pm. they took me to the hospital. i was told told me i was lucky to be alive, that my liver was still functional. i didnt feel lucky. i felt like death wouldve been less painful. my head was spinning

i died in that hospital bed, at ~9.40pm, with my eyes wide open, my mom sitting near me. my thoughts at the time were along the lines of this:

im quite literally a child in the eyes of the world. ive done nothing. i have a psychology exam tomorrow. i have a book im halfway done writing, and a new story thats been brewing in my head for months. but if i die now, ill never get to finish any of that. ill never succeed. ill never be able to spit in the faces of the girls who bullied me, of the teachers who doubted me. why would i do this to myself? why would i rob myself of that chance?

so i died. but not the same way as last time. this time, it was the poisonous me that died, the me that whispered in my ear that my life would amount to nothing, that everyone else had it better, that you either succeed or you dont.

and when i died the second time, something happened that didnt happen the first time.

i was reborn.

at the time of me writing this, its been less than four months since my rebirth. in those four months:

i decided to change the world somehow. not necessarily by finding the cure to cancer or anything, id be satisfied if it was just a cute lil video i made going viral. as long as theres someone out there who i changed

i finished about six chapters of my book

i began writing the story that had been brewing in my head

i started lifting weights to make myself feel better abt how i looked

i got closer to god. stopped missing prayer

i moved schools, leaving behind both bullies and friends

i started focusing on my studies

i tried to fix my relationships with my parents and my siblings

dont get me wrong. none of these are completed. im still an extreme case of nobody-ness. i havent finished writing either of my stories. i still skip out on working out a lot i still only do the bare minimum in terms of religion. im still struggling to catch up in school to make up for my three years of burnout. my relationship with my family is still kinda weird

and i still feel like im dying sometimes. its not like i changed overnight and all those suicidal thoughts and feelings of drowning just disappeared when the sunrays came up. theres still a lot of issues in my life.

but i have faith in myself. in my ability to change the things that can be changed. in creating happiness where theres room for it to be made.

and if finding happiness a losing battle?

well, ill fight like its the fucking boudican revolt.

[thefool0nthehill]

Hi there I'm in a weird , random, and pointless headcanon mood so here's some miscellaneous Kefka headcanons I have. Tell me which ones u agree with and which ones are dead wrong , for science reasons

•Autistic. I don't think I really need to explain myself because I think you all already know it but I'd gladly do so if i needed to.

•VERY picky eater. To me he'd be one of those people you just never see eating anything and on the rare occasion they do, it's either candy or something fucked up like a ketchup and potato chip sandwich....

•on the subject of food for some reason I feel like he'd have a crazy sweet tooth, and eat a lot of sweets and candy all the time. (Clearly if there's one thing I don't believe this man can do its eat reasonably) I can't remember if this is even MY headcanon or if I got it from someone else's posts/fanfiction and it stuck in my brain's personal made up lore collection, so if ur reading this and I just stole your headcanon sorryyyyz💔

•No attention span. That's all.

•Not everyone will vibe with this one because I know historically in fandom we like to keep our mentally ill characters desirable and lightheartedly quirky but.. hoarder. Maybe a bit more random junk than trash but I've always had a feeling that wherever this dude lives, good luck finding %89 of the floor.

•If that last one doesn't make sense, I'll elaborate on how I see his mental state and motivations personally and maybe it will help. For me Kefka's obsession with destruction and the absurd concept of ending EXISTENCE as a whole is indicative of an obsessive grasping for control.

Maybe the surface level of his character doesn't indicate a desire for control, but I think stealing more and more power until he's drained and obliterated an entire civilization, then stealing it from literal gods regardless of the cost, and then sitting shut up in a tower nuking anyone who dares to maybe have hope or speak out against him absolutely does. So does the whole megalomania theme in and of itself.

And y'know, the whole mind controlling Terra thing does too, since if control wasn't a motivator for him, only destruction for the sake of it, he'd let Terra run amok I think.

The poisoning at Doma kinda reeks of it for me too, it shows not only his lack of impulse control and lack of value for human life but also a secret third thing no one talks about which is how everything has to happen when he wants, in the way he wants it to. Even if he has to sneak behind other's backs and get himself in trouble to achieve that.

So to me, I think that among other motivations, he knows the only way he can control everything is to destroy it. He's pissed when he gives his little monologue and the main party disagrees, he can't convince them away from their reasons that life is worth living to them. So he'll destroy them all, so that no one will be left to resist him or call him down.

Aaaand drawing that all back in , you see a lot of people with hoarding disorders who have struggled a lot in a hectic, unpleasant life and a subconscious need for something you can control and take comfort in is filled by stuff. (Gee , ask me how -I- know)

•This could be %100 canon, could be mistranslated or %100 made up, so there's really no telling if this is a headcanon or not. But anyone seen that translated Ultimania profile from a gameFAQ post like 15 years ago? I've been taking every word of it as canon because it's just so on point with details that make sense and make him more fleshed out and interesting. Here are some favorites

•In his little bio thing with his age, height,(5'5 which is canon to me for ever and ever) etc , for likes it just says

"Likes: Mirror "

same. Me. King shit. truest and most relatable thing ever.

•"- After spiraling into insanity, Kefka starts to wear makeup and garish clothing, acting like a complete buffoon. His behavior changes and his patterns of speech deteriorate."

this is just what happened to me when I turned 20. give the man a break . hes just a girl in the world

•Theres a lot in there about him collecting dolls, playing with them, and dressing them/doing their makeup like he does his own. And just a lot in general about his more feminine interests and tastes (because it's the 90s/2000s and unfortunately we have to show the bad crazy guy is bad and crazy by making him gnc methinks)

I love this aspect of Kefka's character very very dearly. That is all.

And there's many more details there I appreciate but just don't feel like writing down but I could in a part two if anyone enjoyed reading this. Lmk what u think and if I cooked or didn't cook because I love talking to ppl about the funny man...

[soursherbat]

Sensation; Chapter One

Graveyard Shift

A Springtrap x OC fanfic

Word Count; 2,390

This job was seriously taking years off of my life. I’d started as a night guard a few nights for the new horror attraction opening up in town soon, and honestly? I’m not sure if this pay is worth it. Especially not after the last two nights...

My shift had been going fine, nothing out of the ordinary. I mean, aside from everything wrong with this place. I could deal with the hallucinations from the piss poor ventilation, I was already used to it before starting here, but a visit from my superiors made the mood deteriorate entirely.

It was nearly time for me to clock out when they showed up, wheeling something in on a hand truck. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw them wheel it past me while I was sitting in the office.

It was a large animatronic, a Spring Bonnie model from what I could tell. It was badly damaged and looked incredibly dirty and disheveled, but its outward appearance wasn’t what had scared me.

Its eyes were following me. They were looking directly at me, its gaze staying focused on me as they wheeled it past the window.

Their eyes had a look I couldn’t place. It didn’t feel like the typical eye contact mascot suits would make with you, their eyes designed to create the illusion that they were looking at you when they simply weren’t. No, this thing had been staring at me, studying me intently, its eyes containing a liveliness behind them that made me squirm in my chair.

It was difficult to disguise my discomfort when they told me before clocking out that it would be staying here in the building, as they had plans to incorporate it into the attraction. I left without a word, driving home in silence as I ruminated on what that would mean for me going forward.

Sleep eluded me that night. I was hoping it was just another hallucination, but every time that moment played itself over in my head, I became more certain that I hadn’t imagined it. It even haunted my dreams, stalking through the dimly lit hallways of the building to find me.

Oh, how I wished that dream hadn’t come true. My next shift had come quicker than I would’ve liked, barely functioning from my sleepless night and surviving off of energy drinks and espresso shots for the first two hours or so.

The first time it appeared on the cameras I felt my skin crawl, my hair standing on end as I locked eyes with it once again.

It... it felt like it could see me through the cameras. I felt sick to my stomach as long buried feelings of panic and worry crept back into my mind, reminding me of events forgotten ages ago. My hands shook as we stared at each other, my breathing shallow and ragged when it started to move.

It shambled toward my location like a reanimated corpse, one of its joints clearly locked at the ankle. I realized quickly that it was drawn to the audio lures, following them mindlessly as I tried to make it move as far from the security office as possible.

I noticed it wasn’t just mindlessly following them after a few uses, when it... seemed to become confused that nobody was in the room it heard the sounds coming from. It was hard to tell, but it seemed to look around like it was searching for the source of the noises.

Its gaze always returned to the camera in the end, like it knew that I was watching it limp through the empty hallways. When it eventually reached camera ten I got a good look at it, my eyes wide with shock when I noticed exposed bone and old, decayed flesh and sinew visible in the tears in the suit.

Just what was I dealing with here? I wouldn’t find out until the next night, as the... creature didn’t move from that spot in the corner of camera ten for the rest of my shift. It just stared into the camera, its unblinking gaze burned into my memory at this point.

I left the moment my alarm beeped, punching my time card and leaving the building as quickly as I could. I closed the shutters and locked up, fleeing to my car without looking back.

I almost didn’t return to work the next night. I don’t know why I was even here, staring at my hands in the empty parking lot outside the building as I questioned my life choices up to this point.

Something was drawing me back here. That machine, that thing- there was something more to it. It didn’t seem particularly hostile, though the most interaction I’d had with the thing was a staring contest when they first recovered it.

However, once I got into the building, I had to question if that was true. Was it looking for me, or was it hunting me? I can’t tell- but it seemed particularly desperate to find me tonight.

I’m watching it move toward my desired spot for it- the room furthest from mine- when the entire system shuts down.

I panic. I flip the maintenance panel up, frantically resetting everything at once. I sit there anxiously, a pit forming in my stomach when I hear it dragging its metallic body through the vents.

Before I can react and long before any of the systems have reset, it shows up outside the window, looking at me. I feel the color drain from my face, my hands cold and clammy as we stare at each other through the glass once more.

“You... aren’t the one I had expected to find here.”

Did it just speak to me? A silent terror overtakes my rationality, making me freeze like a deer in the headlights. Not only was it a walking corpse in a rabbit costume, but it could talk as well? Its gravelly, strained voice was slightly muffled by the glass, though it... sounded like a person, more or less.

“But you still came back... why?”

I feel my throat tighten, constricting my breathing and making me tremble like a leaf. I’m still too stunned by the fact that it can speak to even consider responding, just waiting for it to lunge at me.

It tilts its head as it gazes at me, perhaps realizing that it had scared me. We both stay silent for a time, its eyes never leaving mine. It... he? They? They don’t seem intent on hurting me, though I knew from experience that not everyone let their violent intent show so easily.

“I... I don’t know.”

It’s the only response I can muster, still not sure why I’m here either. The longer I stared at it, the more it seemed like it was alive. A bio-mechanical abomination stood before me, asking a question like it was a concerned parent fretting over their child.

“May I come in... please?”

The question hits me like a ton of bricks. Every judgment and assumption I had made about this thing- this... person? Felt like it had just been thrown out the window.

They sound so desperate, so earnestly polite that I felt terrible for even considering being afraid of this... creature. I still don’t exactly know how to address them...

I can’t even form a response, just choking on what I want to say before I finally just give up and nod. They seem to perk up at that, making their way into the office. I recoil a bit, though I feel terrible about it.

They... they smell like a musty carpet that’s been left to rot, making me force back a gag. It makes sense, they are a corpse inside an old, ill-maintained suit...

It’s especially clear to me that this person is dead now that they’re standing directly in front of me, cracked bones wound with wires and desiccated muscle visible in the holes in their chassis.

I felt terrible for them, their past completely unknown to me, but their suffering was evident. I had still been hoping all of this was just a hallucination, a manifestation of my paranoia made worse by this place’s terrible ventilation, but the crushing weight of this strange reality was demolishing that idea entirely.

“Who... who are you?”

The question finally leaves my mouth, I’d been wanting to say something, anything, but until now it had felt like I was being choked.

They finally look away from me, the question was obviously a bit of a loaded one. They... chuckle, softly. It catches me by surprise, further humanizing this creature in front of me. They- he seems to be considering the question, as if he didn’t know how to answer.

“A dead man. No one... has called me by my name in a long time.”

He was obviously avoiding the question, acting as if he was stalling for time while he tried to make something up.

“Just call me... Springtrap.”

My brow furrows upon hearing his name. It was obviously bullshit, probably something he just now thought of. I could tell he was in a Spring Bonnie suit, remembering long-lost Polaroids of my parents visiting the old Fredbear’s Diner before it was shut down.

I’d heard from the recorded calls about the multiple springlock failures that happened around that time, wondering if that was the same fate that... “Springtrap” had met. God, what a silly name- I could hardly take him seriously now.

“Okay... Springtrap. You said you expected someone else- but who?”

He seems to tense again, avoiding looking me in the eyes as he answers my question.

“Nobody you should concern yourself with. You... were a pleasant surprise.”

I feel conflicted upon hearing him say that. The way he’s speaking, it sounds like I would have been much less fortunate if I had been the one he was expecting.

Before I can really consider that line of thinking, I notice that he’s been slowly inching his way closer to me. I wonder if he’s drawn to my voice the same way he is the audio lures, or if he’s planning something else.

No... he wouldn’t attack me at this point, right? The paranoia lurks in the back of my mind, my shoulders tensed when I see him take another step. I look up at him- suddenly feeling incredibly tiny, he was towering over me at this point- his eyes are focused on mine again.

Now that he’s this close, I can see an obvious longing in his expression. How could a suit even form an expression? It vexes me, nothing about him makes any sense to me- though I suppose not everything will.

“You... you are real, aren’t you? Please...”

I’m pulled from my thoughts by his voice, he’s leaning down toward me now, his mouth open. My eyes widen as I see the gnarled and twisted flesh underneath, his tattered remains still inside the head of the suit as well.

I flinch away from him, instinctively reaching out and pushing my hand against his face, as if I was pushing an overly eager kitten away from my plate of food. He freezes as my fingers make contact with his grime covered fur, the texture of which is making me sick just from brushing against it- let alone placing my hand firmly against his cheek.

We stand there for a long moment, both of us stunned into silence. I only just now process his original question, my expression softening as I start to move my fingers, scratching his molded faux fur.

It feels terrible against my hand. I can tell it was soft, once. Now it was rough, coated in a thick layer of dust and splotched with blood, a lot of it matted up and tangled.

“I... I’m sorry. You surprised me...” I finally manage to say, apologizing for pushing him away. “How... how long have you been like this?”

He’s leaned into my touch, a soft, warbling purr emanating from his chest cavity. His eyes have softened significantly, looking as if he’d been relieved of a heavy weight.

“I... wouldn’t be able to tell you. It... feels like an eternity.”

I feel stupid for even asking, realizing that he’d been boarded up in a room for god knows how long. My sympathy for him is growing rapidly, unable to pry my hand away from his disgusting fur.

Both of us jump when my alarm sounds, forcing me to tear myself away from him. I silence it, staring at the clock. I had been dreading coming in here today, and now... now I didn’t want to leave. This poor man, all alone in this death trap of an attraction, surrounded by the remnants of destroyed animatronics...

“You... need to leave now, correct? It’s... okay. You should go.”

I can tell he’s forcing himself to be polite at this point, his desperation for human contact thinly veiled by his urging for me to leave. I nod my head in understanding, sighing heavily.

“Yeah... I’ll... I’ll be back tomorrow.”

He seems a bit put off by the notion, as if he didn’t want me to come back. He obviously didn’t want me to leave, but... he looked conflicted.

“An unwise decision... but I can’t stop you. I’ll see you tomorrow... Hawk.”

I’m left shocked as he slinks out of the office, until I realize that I had been wearing my name tag this entire time, making me breathe a sigh of relief. Everything else about this situation was odd enough, I didn’t need any more weirdness tonight.

I locked up the building, sitting in my car and just... staring at the exit door for a while. The thought that he was just sitting alone in there, waiting for me to come back made my heart ache. I knew nothing about him, but... I couldn’t help but sympathize.

It took me a while to finally start my car, lingering a bit longer before actually driving home. He was the center of my thoughts during my drive, parsing through my complicated feelings as I headed home.

I couldn’t stop my racing thoughts, heading straight to bed to try to sleep it all off. I’d figure out what to do about this when I was able to get some real rest...

Next Chapter

[coolasakuhncumber]

2023 in review

This has been harder than expected to pull together. I know social media is the 'glossy' version of everyone's life but in the last couple of days of the year, in the seeing of people posting about buying houses and getting married and having babies, I feel lost. I feel a great sense of emptiness. A year ago I had a sense of what 2023 would look like and what my future beyond that may be and now I don't. I feel like I'm just holding space. I need more novelty and difference in my life to separate the days from blurring into each other.

Work I started a new job I was excited about. I learnt pretty quickly that implementation is maybe not quite where I want to be, I'd rather be doing the strategic influencing work. Big reform work. I suspected this already, but it was good to have it confirmed. I liked the work travel though. The going to Brisbane and Cairns and Sydney and getting out of the national office, getting a bit more perspective.

I moved to the role to follow a senior manager and that senior manager left 5 months into me being there. Two weeks later I was approached to go back to my previous work area and they committed to meeting the requests I had. I worked two jobs for a month and a half and that was HARD. Do not recommend. It's good to be back in this policy area (for the third time!!!) and working with the manager I have. I've had some really great opportunities to step up take the lead and have senior people see what I've done. The Melbourne trip was a highlight, despite the associated difficulties.

I managed a couple of underperformers this year and was forced to grow as a manager to address the issues. I learnt that the attitude of my staff really matters, and it's ok to have the expectations I have and that I'm actually a pretty good and empathetic manager. I dealt with a situation that looked like underperformance and had a strong element of fraud to it. What a time. Not.

I showed signs of burnout for a large portion of the year. It's not ok.

Travel I meant to do Perth -> Broome this year but it fell apart and I instead spent a week in Perth, a few days in Canberra with my friend who was recovering from knee surgery, a long weekend down the south coast, a few days in Cairns, and a few days in Sydney for my step-brother's wedding. It was all good, though if I were to do it again, I'd spend less time in transit and more time in one place.

Referendum Australia had its first Referendum this century, calling for an Indigenous Voice to Parliament to be enshrined in the constitution. It failed and I am still smad about it. I don't know yet how to not be angry about the misinformation and disinformation that was spread through the 'No' campaign. I truly believe Peter Dutton and other significant figures of the no campaign have blood on their hands.

I started getting undercuts as a dopamine hit to lift me out of my feelings.

Health I'm pretty damn sick hey. I need heart surgery but my lungs are too bad to allow it so we're just hanging out deteriorating. Some days are just really tough. But I did start a new medication that has helped me breathe just a little bit better and we're all holding out hope I'll continue to improve. I'm going to do what I can to improve my lungs and yeah, I might not live to be 80, 70, 60, 50, 40, but God has a plan for me and I can rest easy in that knowledge.

Relationships The thing that has probably changed the most in the last year is that Duc and I are no longer together. We haven't been since late Jan. We had talked about getting engaged in 2023, getting married not too long after. I was thinking of buying an investment property with the thought that he could live in it for a bit, then it would become a shared asset when we were committed for life.

Instead, we're no longer together. We haven't been together for a while. It's absolutely the right thing for us to not be together but man did I get used to regular companionship the almost 4 years we were a thing.

Dating sucks. Trying to date as a woman in your early 30s with a visible disability really sucks. My friends and family are fantastic and fill so many of my social and emotional needs that I'm feeling a strong sense of why bother? The desire for domesticity with one I love is why.

Jay

I love Jay. I think I have loved him for years and I let myself love him this year. I know we're not end game. I will need to let go at some point but I remain not yet ready to.

Whiskey Club

This remains one of my favourite friendship things. It's Paul and I. We eat fried chicken, drink whiskey, and talk about our feelings. It's the best. It's a form of therapy, though I sometimes suspect a professional would be good.

Disability

I have become more 'disabled' over the last couple of years and it really became more pronounced over the last 12 months. I feel limited in my life in many ways. I can't travel internationally at the moment, pending how things go I might not be able to again.

Some days I just can't breathe. When things were bad there were weeks of impromptu crying because this body sucks. Sometimes it feels like things can only go downhill from here. I don't like that. I resent it, even.

This year I became the Co-chair of my workplace's Disability Network and I've been taking action to improve policy and procedures for staff living with disability. I've been on panels, talking about some of my experiences. But I'm not 'disability proud'. If I could not have this particular set of challenges based on genetic markers, I would choose that every single time.

There's probably more work I need to do on myself here.

Some good

I did say 2023 would be the year of natural fibres and I did predominantly wear less polyester and more linen. I bought a few more dresses and I do really love the collection I have now.

2024

This year I want to continue growing. My housemate is looking to purchase property and move out with their partner and I really don't know how I'll go living alone.

I'd like to maybe go on a nice date or two? Maybe?

I want to be stronger with my boundaries.

My Mum is going to start working with me and that's equal parts exciting and worrying. I want it to work and not impact the good dynamic we have in a negative way.

Bring it on hey.

[thorarms]

Sorry i was referring to ur post hating on how mobius called loki a man of action. Why can't loki be also a man of action he grew up around THOR. Also maybe its a new thing loki is letting show instead of being cautious. He is the god of mischief and chaos after all

Ok ive taken a couple of days to have a think and give you a proper answer.

In short, because it's lazy and lets the writers avoid having to write loki with any consistent character traits.

Long answer below the cut

I have a lot of semi connected thoughts about this and this post might end up a bit of a ramble, uh so sorry i guess.

I think it's important to remember that loki as a marvel character has existed since the 1960s, and thus has 60 or so years of characterisation already there. Over the years this has varied a bit due to many different writers and their different visions for their stories, but they tend to stay fairly consistent. Loki is a villian (or is perceived as one by others), he plans elaborate schemes usually with the end goal of the destruction of asgard and/or thor, and he tends to play the long game. In short, he's been consistently characterised as a much more methodical and yes, cerebral character than thor.

In addition, theres 11 years of specifically mcu loki characterisation, which was originally constructed from the loki we see in the comics. This is the baseline of mcu lokis character, and thus should still be there in other stories and adaptations.

What's actually interesting to me though, is that loki HAS been shown as a man of action before. In Thor 2011. Specifically at the end of the movie, after his entire life has fallen apart at the seams and he's in the middle of an emotional breakdown. His actions get more impulsive as the movie progresses, and it ends with him trying to destroy Jotunheim, goading thor into an argument and a huge fight, then letting go of the bifrost and falling to his assumed death.

What makes this work and still feel in character is that lokis impulsive and reckless desicions come from his emotional instability. The viewer gets to see his facade break and watch him deteriorate from slowly and meticulously planning to ruin thors coronation and stop him from taking the throne, to deciding on the spur of the moment to point the bifrost at Jotunheim and, afterwards, decide to let go of gungnir and plummet into the void (i love this movie so much can you tell).

All of this really is to say that loki CAN be reckless and impulsive just like thor. It just has to be well written and considered. And season one of the show very much was Not That.

With the gift of hindsight, it's been very clear that the writers of season one were not interested in maintaining any of lokis previous characterisation and, given what we've seen so far in the trailer, im not exactly holding out hope that season two will be any different.

The last thing i wanna mention is that the way you phrased your ask, with loki deciding himself to become less cautious, is quite interesting to me. Im sure you dont need me to tell you that loki isnt real, hes a fictional character and thus has no autonomy of his own. Every thought, word and action was a deliberate decision from the writers and actors creating these stories (often with their own preconceptions and biases of the character subconsciously thrown in). What im trying to get at is that ultimately, loki as a character is a vehicle for telling an aspect of a story. And it's the writers job to tell that story well. And if loki suddenly has a change of heart and decides to start acting the complete opposite of his former self, the writers should have a damn good reason for choosing to do that. Otherwise, it's just poorly written. And frankly i dont want to watch a poorly written show.

Whoops this was way longer than i intended im so sorry anyways i hope this answers your question about why i wrote a silly post about a throwaway line in a trailer for a show im probably not even going to watch. Probably.

[andypartridges]

But To Me, It's Very Very Beautiful: a zine celebrating 40 years of English Settlement [TRANSCRIPTION]

this is part 2 of the transcription - read the first half here :-)

transcription under the cut !! again, apologies for piss poor grammar or clunky writing - the zine is 100% a brain dump of my thoughts

running low on soul coal By the time XTC made English Settlement, the band - especially Andy, who had begun sinking lower and lower into a state of mental deterioration - had been exhausted by constant touring. And so, with this album, the band broke their long-standing rule that all songs needed to be fully replicated live. Songs like 'Yacht Dance' were given the freedom to boast more intricate arrangements and experiment with more eclectic instrumentations. Yet, this context for the band's history also reveals more about the music they were making. Within songs like 'Jason and the Argonauts' runs a clear thread of exhaustion, a desire for escapism - "I've seen acts of every shade of terrible crime from man-like creatures". Even the album's opener, 'Runaways', sets the tone of English Settlement from the beginning. It's a cry - most clearly from Andy - to get out. But when your label ignores you, an album is the only way to express feelings.

This Is Pop? How English Settlement gave XTC a UK top ten single XTC had previously tasted commercial success with the top 20 hits 'Making Plans For Nigel' and 'Sgt Rock (Is Going To Help Me)'. But it wasn't until the lead single from English Settlement, 'Senses Working Overtime', that XTC would crack the UK top ten for the first - and last - time. After Virgin Records had started showing more interest in Colin - the 'good looking one' - following his success with Nigel and the pressure to write the ever elusive 'hit', Andy Partridge drew upon Manfredd Mann's '5, 4, 3, 2, 1', reversing the numbers and adding an element of five senses, hence the song's chorus and title. Combined with the medieval/old English guitar sound, it was a huge chart success. Both the single and the album it came from would be XTC's commercial peaks, as English Settlement reached no. 5 in the album charts.

Looking Forwards Even though English Settlement was released in 1982, its value and its message still feels resoundingly loud today. England has always clung to the glory of its past, even if that glory is a façade, founded on injustices. Now, more than ever, Great Britain must ask itself if it truly deserves that descriptor in front of its name when the country still faces the same issues it has faced for years. Even now, the impacts of Thatcher can be felt. XTC's interrogation of societal injustices - racism, class, unemployment - and its expectation of love are still deeply relevant forty years on. For me, I keep coming back to one lyric from All Of A Sudden (It's Too Late), one of my favourite XTC songs - "love's not a product you can hoard, or pack a suitcase with / it's more a way you have to give." I think it's something we can all keep in mind.

about the creator Mia is a journalism student with a fondness for making zines, listening to what can be referred to as 'dad music', and talking about herself in the third person. When not making zines, they can be found reading, hanging out in record shops, or worrying. Besides music, Mia is also passionate about the Discworld series by Terry Pratchett, Star Trek, as well as cheese on toast.

Back cover transcript: "Why don't we make an album we don't have to reproduce on stage? We can use acoustic instruments, we can overdub keyboards, we can use pianos... the first of the multi-coloured records."

[dam-peace]

Life Update, Game Updates.

Hey guys,

As I mentioned in my  post yesterday, things have been pretty hard recently. I actually fractured my foot a couple weeks ago on my way to work, and am currently unable to walk. My job refused to give me sick pay, because my 'average weekly earnings were not high enough', which is funny considering I was a full-time worker.

All in all it was just their roundabout way of saying that I wasn't entitled to sick pay, because I haven't worked there long enough. Long story short, I just put in my 2 weeks for the job because I just didn't have the will to fight a losing battle. So, now I'm currently looking for a new job remote from home, so money's been tight, made that much worse by the increase in the cost of living. 

I was also supposed to get a mortgage to move into a better house and area, but looks like that may not be in the works right now. Something that I was extremely excited for, even postponed going back to University for. The career I chose to go into years ago is no longer what I want to peruse.

Worse, its becoming one of the main things that deteriorates my mental health further, not to mention my poor mother is extremely overworked, underpaid and suffering from her own physical ailments. ​And, I'm not exactly helping things either as the eldest, with me being bedbound and now out of a job. Though she doesn't hold it over my head, which only makes the guilt that much worse.

Mentally, physically, emotionally and financially I just feel drained. I'm trying to hold onto things that give me enjoyment, like making my games. As well as maintaining a positive attitude, because the last thing I want is for my depression to take hold of my life like it used to.  Whilst I look for a new job, I actually plan to take a break from doing asks on Tumblr and what not to start my patreon again.

This time better than ever, as I now know what I'll be doing and what to offer, after looking at what other creators are doing for ideas. I'll still try to answer any questions you guys may have and reply to any comments, it's just sometimes I get overstimulated and completely shut down at times. So if I'm taking a bit of time to do something, please just be patient with me, I really am trying. 

So for now I won't be updating the public demos for awhile, as I want to work on the alpha build for patreon, as well as other patreon content. When I do so, I then want to start looking for beta testers to take a bit off of my plate, because looking back through all the coding and story content is something that frustrates me beyond belief, and again is very overstimulating for me.

In addition to a 'Coding Advisor' of sorts with the beta testers or amongst the best testers, someone who can help me properly code in things that I can't seem to find the solution for myself. Because as I've mentioned before, I'm still new to coding and there are many things I'm still unable to do, e.g. coding in a 'dark mode' for readers. Unfortunately, I wouldn't be able to pay any of these people, but they would be credited in my work. 

So, yeah that's been my life, if you managed to actually read through everything above, good on you. I probably would've looked at all that lengthy text and clicked off, lol. But, despite all the depressing stuff above, I just want to take the time to thank each and every one of you for you love and support.

From the views, downloads and playthroughs to the kind comments, constructive criticism, game ratings, follows, likes, questions/asks, artwork, reposts and payments. As well as, adding my games to your collections, or by simply just showing a genuine interest. I thank you for every contribution you've every made in any way, because no matter how small it may seem to you. It really does mean a lot, and continues to push me forward, through some really hard times ♡

[requiesticat]

Life update: drama, job, new pets

Back from hiatus

I took a break from social media for awhile. This was due to mental health, as well as other reasons

Drama/unemployment

A few months ago, I made a character analysis to support a user who was getting harassed for making one. This lead to me getting targeted instead. OP didn't respond to my post, or address that targeting, so I decided to private it.

This isn't the first time I've experienced harassment. Different instances have occurred over the years, with the most prominent one happening on Furvilla. Updated my about page to address it in general:

In March, a few weeks before publishing the post, I quit my job. The position was retail, but it proved to be too demanding. Now I'm unemployed, and unsure if I'll be able to find fulltime work. May start taking commissions.

Things sort of went downhill from there. The aa drama happened. A falling out with a friend lead to our relationship deteriorating. For awhile, it was like I had the worst luck imaginable, and I've been spending more time alone, isolating myself as a result.

So I might leave twitter. The only reasons I've stayed is because all my mutuals use it. Elon Musk's ownership as well as anti/proship discourse has put me off the site entirely; honestly feel more comfortable using mastodon. I'll probably be more active on tumblr as well.

Pets

Some good news: my cats are doing fine. I haven't posted about them much, but their names are Sophie and Milo. They're siblings that come from the same litter

Since 2019 I started taking care of fish, mainly bettas. Right now I own a female koi betta (Pippa), a male platy (Nougat), and an ivory mystery snail (Perry).

Last week, I adopted a jumping spider who kept showing up on my back porch. Not sure about the gender yet, but it's a bold jumper/phidippus audax. I got them a terrarium as well as some crickets for live food.

Its name is Juniper. Jumpy for short, after the protagonist of 999. They're wary of me, but curious and spend a lot of time making webs at the top of the terrarium. I've always wanted a tarantula, so this is sort of the next best thing.

(Sorry for blurry photo)

[infamous-empire]

Infamous Empire’s random movie thoughts - Perfect Blue

Just to give some context behind this: my relationship with films in general is... weird. I’m constantly surrounded by endless shoutouts, references, and general osmosis to movies I’ve never watched in pop culture and I watched a ton of videos about movies growing up, but for most of my life, I rarely actually cared enough to watch that many movies. I just kinda thought “yeah, I’ll get to watching all these movies whenever I have the time” then just walked away. Plus, part of me kinda had a weird sort of prejudice against films as a medium during my teenage years since I was used to the MCU and hundreds-episode long anime at that point and just thought that self-contained films couldn’t deliver the kind of long stories I’d become accustomed to, but that’s neither here nor there Anyway, a few months ago, I kinda just decided “alright, I’m not getting any younger, might as well watch every movie that’s on my backlog” and I’ve been grinding my way through them ever since. So it was around this week I decided that I might as well have something to show for it by slapping my thoughts on whatever movie I’d watched onto Tumblr, and this felt like as good a place to start as any.

Anyway, I’ve never seen any films from Satoshi Kon, so going into this movie, all I knew was that it was really artsy and kind of a Mind Screw. I tend to find that those kind of works can be rather hit-or-miss for me, so I properly kept my expectations measured going into this. Thankfully, every concern I might have had going in was completely swept away by how great the film ended up being

At its core, the film is the story of a struggling actress/former idol trying to keep her sanity and identity in the face of an industry that strips of her autonomy and controls her self-image, and a rabid fan whose stalker behavior and criticism of her outward behavior wear at her mental health. From the very premise, the movie is relentlessly critical of the misogyny often inherent in the film and idol industries, the attitude of fan entitlement which fuels it, and the way all of it affects those simply trying to make a living doing what they love

Mima’s struggles are compelling in their nuance. She’s trying to convince herself that she’s changed for the better just as much as she tries to convince the public, and the separation between the mask she wears as a celebrity, her former life as an idol, and the various roles she plays in film and television are key to the movie’s central theme of identity. The more success she gains, the less control she has over her image, instead decided by callous producers who care nothing for her outside of profiting off her success, which leads her to break down even further. The deterioration of her mental state made clear by how she hallucinates of her past idol self judging her for her “impure” decisions, and her reaction to that hallucination becomes more and more severe as the film goes on

One of the best parts of the movie’s presentation is the way its structure collapses just as much as her mental state does. Towards the last third of the film, it feels almost like a dream in a way that’s honestly hard to describe without going into an obnoxious amount of detail, but it genuinely left me speechless and questioning what’s even real or not, as did several of the major plot twists that came in towards the end, which retroactively reshape how you view several parts of the film.

Overall, this movie is nothing less than the masterpiece it was hyped up to be, and for how strong the whole thing was, I’m now genuinely excited to check out the rest of Satoshi Kon’s filmography, since I’ve heard they don’t exactly disappoint either

[octocurse]

ok now onto just sending everything tht might and might not be canon. Most is a decided yes tho. Remember the tws still apply !! Also spoilers if ur wanting info in order or something idk

also imagery of animal death and gore

Melo (9) was created from the other half of Misery’s soul, an attempt to remember a time when it was alive and happy. Misery doesn’t have a “Real Name”, or one that it actually remembers. After being stuck in the monoplain for hundreds of years, part of it has deteriorated, the rest of what was human. Its soul is stronger than ever, however. Its actual title is The Misery, I just refer to it by simply Misery since it can be redundant. These ocs have been long in the making- With it having just started out as my persona, some kid and a literal demon (that looked like a homophobic oc for hazbin hotel/hj)

(Please ignore the photo of some atmosphere tumblr wont let me delete it)

These are some early stage stuff I drew, from early of last year. The most recent redesign I have saved would be this:

I don’t remember when I drew it, but Midas and 9 have generally stayed the same. Theres literally no reason for 9 to be part cat but she’s allowed 2 be bc I said so (I can’t draw hands). Also, I apparently tried renaming them to Hecate but I suck at naming things so it didn’t work out lol

I’m thinking of redesigning Misery to have something like a plague doctor mask that has no eyes.

in the original thing The Misery committed and that’s what caused the hundreds of years to lead 2 this but I don’t think ?? i want that to be canon bc I’m actually smart and know that I don’t have the brain skills to handle a successful attempt in a story.

Misery is prolly gonna have been ill from an infected outer wound and that’s what killed them. Either way I guess I just want them 2 have like. A death that can be interpreted by anyone as something different in a way.

I think Misery and Melo r transmasc and transfem hostility maybe.

I don’t know when but I had decided earlier on that 9 would rename herself Melo later on. heres more art tht is based on stuff 4 stage (i think) 3-4

They’ve changed a lot since this. But I miiight bring back the other neos, who knows

Her and Imani (name might change in the future) I think would either have a mother-child or sibling relationship since I created them to have come from a similar form of creation.

Imani was also created by a lonely spirit and got shoved into the exact same spot, just with different motives. The spirit wanted to create life, but Misery wanted to BE alive.

(Not canon at all, still deciding) Most of the ppl in the town were actually formed the same way, but they don’t remember it bc of the travelers, who often replace memories and are able to get them to connect to the world around it. Imani likely works with the travelers in helping collect spirits.

Due to how Melo was created, her body doesn’t rlly. Work right. Take that how you want, but it literally REJECTS Misery from it, and it’s why they get burnt by the barriers. Misery isn’t a good person !! It traumatizes Melo. And most of s2 is her learning how to cope with everything- A new environment, new people, and a lot of trauma.

I’ve experienced my fair share of trauma (not gonna go into detail but I’ve experienced abuse and traumatic events), and I want to project ways of coping onto Melo.

Melo at her core is a child- She’s a scared child with a fucked up spirit sharing a body w/ her until she literally DRAGS it out of her. but she Still doesn’t feel ok after. Because she’s still healing. Healing takes time, and I want to show that time- The growth process, the change, being weaker but becoming stronger in a special way. How she doesn’t have to go through it alone- she eventually has a good support system. Friends and adoptive family.

Theres so many changes I need and want to make for this story- so many things r being planned and changed every time I suddenly fixate on this silly thing again. I care about these characters so much.

Melo will never forgive Misery, and she’s allowed to.

“Adventures w/ 9”, a show I want 2 create about mental health, growth and change. I’m absolutely open to ANY suggestions !! [Note- I’m updating as I spam my friends !! Also, very long post.] [TW for - Implied transphobia, death, implied s//icide, multiple forms of ab//ce, religious figures referred to as gods, murder, animal death, looots of stuff. (It gets worse) please be careful w/ reading !! I don’t go into super detail abt everything but religion and death are MAJOR things in it.]

Keep reading

[just-a-simple-dyke]

What was the pacing of this episode.......

[notanotherreidgirl]

ok ok forcing mommy kink spence to watch you ride a dildo after hes been very very bad and he’s genuinely SOBBING,,, its absolute torture and hes begging for you to just let him touch you instead of the stupid plastic toy

Ask and you shall receive - here ya go

wc: 790

Warnings: degradation, use of toys, masturbation, mommy kink

“Open.” Spencer’s mouth dropped open immediately, his obedience standing in stark contrast to his earlier behavior. Not one hour ago he was entertaining a throng of students during office hours, even letting one go as far as to perch herself on his desk, leaning forward just far enough to afford him an eyeful of her cleavage while asking him asinine questions that steadily trespassed into dangerous territory.

You raised your eyebrows when she started to inquire into his love life, expecting him to end the conversation right then and there but you should’ve known better. Spencer’s mind turned to mush whenever he caught even the slightest glimpse of a pair of tits, his genius IQ rapidly deteriorating. “So Dr. Reid, what are you up to tonight? Is there a lucky Mrs. Reid waiting for you back home?”

“Oh, I - uh- no, I’m not married, if -um- if that’s what you’re asking.” Spencer frantically redirected his gaze back to her face but it was too late. The student came in even closer. “That’s too bad. So you’re gonna be all alone?”

That was enough. You shot out of your seat in the back and made your way to him, elbowing your way past adoring students. “Hey, you ready to go?”

He looked up at you with wide eyes, mumbling yes as he scrambled to shove ungraded papers into his satchel. His obnoxious student scooted off his desk and looked you up and down. “I didn’t know you offered private tutoring, Dr. Reid”

“He doesn’t.” With that, you stalked out of the classroom with Spencer hot on your heels. He started to explain himself but you whirled around, seizing his chin in one hand. “Save your voice, darling. You’re gonna need it tonight”

And you kept your promise, putting his pretty mouth to work as soon as you had him undressed and restrained. He moaned around the dildo, gagging as you worked it down his throat but doing his best to swallow the toy determined to do a good job.

“Bravo Dr. Reid, it seems like you do know how to use your mouth after all,” you withdrew the dildo and tapped it against his lips. “Too bad these lips aren’t good for anything more than sucking dick”

“Please Mommy, I was going to say something to her I just -”

“You just what?” He didn’t have an answer and you smiled cruelly as you kneeled on the bed, running the tip of the dildo through your folds. “That’s what I thought. You just can’t help being a desperate whore. Did you want her to fuck you? Would you call her Mommy too?”

At the last question, you sank down on the toy and he let out a low whine, bucking against his restraints. “No, I wouldn’t! You know I wouldn’t. You’re the only one. The only one for me. Please, I’ll show you. Let me make you come.”

“Now why would I do that?” You were rolling your hips over the toy at a steady pace, snaking a hand up to pull down the cup of your bra and roll a nipple between your fingers. His lower lip began to tremble, trying his very best to hold back the tears already blurring his vision and pooling at the corners of his eyes. But you weren’t done yet, reaching behind your back and unclasping your bra. You began to ride the dildo with renewed vigor, throwing your head back as your breasts bounced up and down. “Fuck, it feels so good, baby. I don’t think I even need you anymore”

“Don’t say that, Mommy. Please please please, I’ll do anything - anything you want,” he whined pitifully, taking in the tell-tale signs of your impending release. He tried to convince you with one last wave of begging, the words spilling out amongst his copious tears. “Please, just untie me. I’ll show you. I can make you come so much harder than that stupid toy. I promise, Mommy”

However, Spencer’s impassioned pleas had the opposite effect, prompting you to chase your high even more fervently. When your orgasm crashed over you, he let out a chorus of unrestrained whimpers making your release all the more sweet.

He couldn’t tear his eyes from you, watching with rapt attention as your back arched and your mouth fell open in a silent scream. He regarded the toy with childish jealousy as you eased yourself off of it and tapped it to his lips once again. You gave him a stern glare and he parted his lips, allowing you to fully sheath the dildo in his mouth before giving him a condescending pat on the head. “Good boy, keep that warm for me. I’ll be needing it later"

Blurb Masterlist

[citrustan]

lovefool [2/6] (jjk)

pairing: jeon jungkook × reader

genre: angst, fluff (sort of), smut

summary: your boyfriend's pretty girl best friend keeps hogging up your alone time with him.

word count: 2k

warnings: mental illness (ptsd, depression, anxiety), that’s it

note: so, this is a bit underwhelming and I just realised I have written like the worst summary for this story- also I have not edited this bec I’m in a hurry I’m sorrY and let me know if I made any errors and sorry its short BUT I’m planning on posting a little drabble that gives you a background of jk and yuna’s relationship and stuff

Tag list: @jknk @m-1234 @youremyjinearth @derinxfam @wooya1224 @somewhereinthestarss @min-nicoleee @wxndi @emrysts @dinoyoongi @gashinabts @ilovebangtanbangtan @drumsofheaven @moonchild1 @miclarodeluna @un-love @di0rgguk @wyoming666 @she-is-dreaming @vettigirl @mal99 @moonlitmyg @outro-kook @fromthedt @wearenot7withu @jeonjenny @promisable @kooafraid @jungkoooki @kirbykook @babygirl-panda19 (i was unable to tag a few of you, tumblr won't even allow me to enter the usernames)

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

It's hard to ignore feelings of insecurity. Especially when you've always been around people who seemed to effortlessly succeed in whatever they do while you've stayed average. It's the way your parents never showed appreciation or love, barely tried to push you to do better and never actively tried to help you that built your fear of failure. They were absent for most of your life events and you do not have much of a relationship with them. The only thing they gave you that stuck to you is your low self-esteem and PTSD.

Hopefully, you don't ever have to go back to them. Your little time away from them has done you good, with the help of your on-campus psychologist, you're able to fall out of that old routine of self-loathing while you do the bare minimum and adapt to a new life free from dependence on your parents, financially and emotionally.

That's why you feel this time, for you, is a test. All that confidence you had worked so hard to build was slowly deteriorating. Jungkook obviously knew nothing about your past and this relationship is a reminder of it. You didn't feel important enough for him, like an afterthought. You’ve never even considered romantic relationships outside fantasies until you met him. You knew it wasn’t entirely his fault but this was subliminally triggering your depression and PTSD.

Jungkook had called you a few times since last night’s events but you didn't bother getting back to him. If he sent voice messages or texts, you haven't had the energy or even the will really, to look at them.

Last night, you reached home by midnight. Before that, you visited the volunteering centre to pass time. There was always something you could contribute to; this time you helped raise funds for the development of homeless shelters.

You’re ashamed to admit it wasn’t your altruism that made the decision of working late at the centre but your own requirements. Not only would this take your mind off Jungkook and Yuna, but it’d earn you an extra credit or two for college too and you’d feel at least a bit valuable.

Back at Jungkook’s house, he battled with his own thoughts about whether or not he should’ve followed you (he definitely should have). It’s only around 5 a.m. now. Yuna invited herself to a sleepover with him and he couldn’t help but feel mildly disturbed. You were supposed to stay, you had your overnight bag with you and everything.

He lied on his sofa staring at the little glow in the dark plastic stars scattered around on the ceiling. You suggested they make movie nights better because the stars are barely visible in the city with all the pollution. Speaking of movie nights, he doesn’t seem to remember the last time he watched a movie or show of your choice. It’s almost time for him to start showering and packing for his weekend away with his friends.

Yet, he can’t seem to find the will to just get up; it’s not laziness or procrastination. It’s as if he’s forcing himself to go.

Jungkook glances at his phone on the coffee table, you hadn’t even opened his messages.

Suddenly, realising you hadn’t contacted him even once in the past few hours, he snapped out of his daydreaming. Did you even get home safe? That seemed to have woken him up completely.

Communication was not your strongest suit, you found it rather easier to go days without talking to or texting anyone- thanks to your dysfunctional family. Yet, when you realised you were subconsciously trying to distance yourself from the situation, you were adamant to not give in, you needed to be an adult about it- which is why you were currently waiting, at the deserted bus stop, for the first bus to Jungkook’s home street to show up.

You, guilt-ridden, finally check your phone with Jungkook’s numerous unanswered phone calls, text messages and Instagram messages displayed on your notification bar. As soon as the bus arrived, you hop on and send your boyfriend a brief direct message-

_____: hey jk

_____: im sorry i got busy last night

_____: in the bus rn, I’ll be over in 10, im sorry we really need to talk

jeon97: typing…

_____: ik youre probably busy packing up for your weekend getaway but this will barely take 20 mins

jeon97: Don’t say it like that

_____: ?

jeon97: typing…

jeon97: I’m glad you’re okay

jeon97: A simple ‘Im fine jk’ was all I needed, _____.

_____: i got busy

jeon97: I’ll pick you up at the bus stand

_____: okay

The last message remained unopened. You gulped, was it too harsh of you to ignore him? Somewhere, you felt his efforts to contact you just weren’t enough. He should’ve followed you out of his apartment and begged you to stay. He probably wouldn’t even need to beg; he could have demanded you to stay back and you’d agree.

Jungkook left out the part where he had already gotten dressed, fully prepared to sneak into your dormitory, and was currently at the only open bakery near his apartment, it wasn’t your favourite one but it was the only place open at this time of the day, figuring the least he could do after this is bring you a tiramisu or a croissant or two. He winced at how cold he sounded over text. After paying for your food, he rushes to the bus stop.

Dressed in his signature black cargo trousers paired with a bomber jacket, zipped up, with a white shirt underneath, he paced back and forth the seating area.

The bus arrives immediately after his third round and he spots you instantly with your turtleneck sticking out of his oversized sweater.

Jungkook almost lunged at you as soon as you hop off the vehicle, shamelessly wrapping himself around you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you…?” You begin but get cut off by your boyfriend, “NO- I deserve it, I mean yeah, it’d have been better if I knew you were, I don’t know, at home? I hate that you’re upset with me and I just want us to be OK again and,” “We’re fine.” You whispered, “But are we really? We can’t not talk about-” “We will.” “Okay, fine.”

He frowns when he notices you refraining from hugging him back and pulls away briefly. Your entire interaction seems forced and awkward.

There’s something adorable about the little, lilac take-away container contrasting his all-black outfit matching the bad boy image.

You felt exhausted from going through all the thoughts and emotions last night and now you would be reliving them all over again if you were going to be honest and talk to him truthfully and uncensored. “You didn’t really have to pick me up, I was going over to your apartment anyway.” “Well, I was actually already up and ready to head over to your place. I even picked up a pineapple pastry and coffee flavoured, supersized macaron for you.” He dangled the box over your head.

Oh?

“Well…” You awkwardly started. Do you thank him for thinking of you? Do you ridicule him and say ‘oh, it’s about time’? You play with the charms on your bracelet, not knowing where to begin. “Can we go home now? Or… are- I don’t know, do you have anything planned? I could help you pack.”

“Actually, I think the flower garden would be open by now? Do you want to go on an impromptu date?”

“I want to talk to you, I don’t want this to count as a date, that’s just- I don’t know, sad? I think I’d rather go back to your place now?” You suggest.

Jungkook doesn’t know why he hesitates to tell you about Yuna staying over. It’s not like it hasn’t happened before, and you know it’s all innocent anyway. “No yeah, that’s okay, let’s go home and talk, babe.” He offers his hand to you and smiles when you lace your fingers together.

You squeeze his hand and it makes him lose his mind a little. Jungkook really likes you.

Your short walk to his apartment was silent, not entirely awkward but somewhat... peaceful. You even stopped midway when Jungkook pointed at a small tuxedo cat sitting on a low wall and played with it as he took pictures of the two of you for his Instagram story.

When you were nearing the rustic elevator gate, you felt him pause several times like he forgot something at the stand. “_____, wait.”

You observed him, tilting your head to the side. “I- So, last night, it was- you know, late. And, you left and Yuna stayed but that was… later. But, she’s still here.” He dumbly stared at you.

Subconsciously, your brows furrowed and Jungkook froze. “She didn’t ask, she just stayed and I did not like tell her to but she just, you know? She stayed. And I slept on the couch.” He looked around at everything but you. Your eyes, however, were fixated on him. Turns out you were rightfully worried. Because your boyfriend cannot keep secrets and if Jungkook hesitates, he’s either lying or maybe he probably figured out how weird it was for a female friend to stay over instead of his girlfriend.

Either way, this was ultimately the kind of situation you had hoped to avoid.

It shouldn't be too big of a deal that the woman you've grown to dislike quite a bit was casually rooming with your boyfriend. Unable to describe your emotions, you decide to let yourself process the new information.

Now, it may seem like an overreaction but this is a woman Jungkook has known for most of his life. Yuna was there when his first kiss happened, hell, she might have even been his first kiss and you can't do anything about it. Yuna was there to bring him soup and nurse him back to health when he fell ill the week before his finals. Yuna has cooked and cleaned for him, she has had Jungkook cook for and clean up after her! She has spent more time with him than you ever will and knows more about him than you do.

This is the woman who had shamelessly joked about your boyfriend's boner in front of you because she can and because she's the best friend. And, you've watched just enough chick flicks to know that the best friend always wins over the insecure, jealous girlfriend. You don't know if you're ready to compete against that.

In your defence, Yuna hasn't been the most welcoming to you either. Even Taehyung had let you into their circle and apparently, he's usually the one who's hard to crack no matter how friendly he may seem. And, you seemed to get along perfectly fine. But, Yuna? The girl introduced you to Jungkook and ever since, she has tried her best to make you uncomfortable. It was all so subtle.

It's hard to be vulnerable and talk about your past no matter how relevant it is to your current circumstance.

You don't want to chase Jungkook away by unloading your two tons of emotional baggage on him.

You don't believe he signed up for that. Maybe you're underestimating Jungkook and misjudging his intentions with you. It's just very uncomfortable. What if he thinks you're too emotional? What if he laughs at your worries?

"Let's just go in, I'll brew you some chamomile tea too," "That's not enough caffeine, it's barely six." You snap.

Jungkook could sense your hesitation and the fact that you ignored the whole Yuna thing didn't settle well in him.

Jungkook pursed his lips together, dragging the elevator door open. It's unbelievably loud, this metal gate. It makes you scrunch your nose and titter. When you're inside the elevator, he leans down and pulls you into a little kiss and you don't object.

You really had no idea what you had walked into. Like, figuratively.

[wkemeup]

Sunrise (1)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 3.5k warnings: heavy focus on Bucky’s PTSD/anxiety, the first splinter in the wall around Bucky’s heart 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

This was a bad idea. A monumentally bad idea.  

Bucky closed his apartment door behind him, pausing for a moment at the top of brownstone steps as a chill of autumn air swept by. Brittle to the touch, cool on his skin, it nestled into his spine and ached deep in his bones— in ones that had been long abandoned, too. The sun reflected against the shine of the pavement from last night’s rainfall, forcing Bucky to squint his eyes.  

Was it always so bright outside? Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t left his apartment for nearly a week before Sam threatened to turn him over to Steve that he’d forgotten how unpleasant the streets of New York could be. Loud. Cold. Chaotic.

He stepped onto the sidewalk, slipping out of the path of a jogger who nearly ran him over and had the gull to flip him the bird. Bucky groaned, curling his right hand into a fist and digging it deep into his pocket as he tried to calm the sudden racing in his chest. The free arm of his army jacket swung down by his left side, empty.  

Not even a few steps outside the sanctuary of closed curtains, warm bedsheets, and the unattended static of a decade old television, and Bucky was already regretting ever knowing Sam Wilson.  

Bucky turned towards the busy street ahead, staring up at the hustle of pedestrians and rush of taxis for a moment longer before he dared to take a step. His feet felt remarkably heavy and he had more than half a mind to tell Wilson to shove it and head back up to his apartment. He had better things to do than make a completely unnecessary trip to the VA.  

What those things were, he couldn’t say, but they didn’t make his heart feel like it was about to beat straight out of his chest. He could stare at a wall for a few hours, for example – see if he could find the crack in the drywall again and follow it to the ceiling.  

“Don't be a coward, Barnes,” Bucky grumbled to himself, earning a strange look from an elderly woman as she passed by. Her eyes held on him longer than she should; clearly a woman who had little shame in her degradation of strangers. 

He gritted his teeth and commanded his legs to move. Those worked, at least.  

As he made his way to the main street, his palm started to sweat inside his pocket. He could see his breath in every tense exhale, and still, he was boiling hot under his jacket. There wasn’t a chance in hell he’d remove it, because even with a sleeve hanging loose off his shoulder, he could at least keep up the pretense there was something inside. People would have to look twice before they realized. Wasn’t so easy to hide a missing arm in a short sleeve shirt.  

Still—he was thankful as he weaved his way upstream through the crowd that he wasn’t as broad as he used to be. A couple months' worth of weight loss, diminished muscle mass, and one less limb will do that do a guy.  

He used to be the sort of man that women would glance at as he passed by. Charming smile. Infectious energy. He could make a woman bite shamelessly at the edge of her bottom lip with a single trail of his eyes along her figure. Extend a hand, offer a drink and a dance. He used to hold confidence in every ounce of his body.  

Now, he kept his eyes on the pavement. He hid from the sun and the curious looks of strangers under the brim of a baseball cap. No one looked twice in his direction. He was invisible these days and that was just the way he liked it.  

By the time he reached the VA, he was surprised to find it a little less than pristine. The windows were dirty with handprints and smudges, the window panes covered in soot. A few of the roofing panels were missing from harsh New York winters. Even some of the outer brick wall had seen some weathering.  

Though, if he were honest, it wasn’t usual at all. Made some sense that the VA was left to wash and wear on its own, deteriorating in front of a busy street of onlookers, right out in plain sight. It was how Bucky felt after he’d come home from his last tour— discarded. Placed upon a pedestal, but only as long as you wear the uniform, only as long as you’re staring down the other end of a barrel. Once you’re shipped back home and cast out from desert, you’re made to fend for yourself. Pull up your bootstraps. Adjust.

Bucky wasn’t sure how to do that anymore. Sam insisted this would help. The people at the VA were good, he’d said. They were like him. They’d understand.  

While Bucky was suspicious, it was enough to drag him a couple blocks from his apartment. It was more than he’d done in weeks anyway. Sam would put on his makeshift shrink hat and call that a meaningful step. Bucky would call it pathetic.  

He stared at the double doors, focusing on dark red rust on the metal hinges. He wondered if he put enough pressure on the latch if it would snap clean off. It looked sharp on the edges, too. Someone could easily cut themselves on it if they weren’t careful—

BEEEEEEP!

A jolt surged through Bucky’s chest enough to nearly knocked him off his feet.  

Sudden flashes of a sweltering heat, the unnatural vibration of the desert under his feet. The car horn echoed into the back of his head, longer than it should have, and his ears started to ring. His vision felt tunneled and Bucky quickly stumbled his way through the double doors just to escape the blare of the horn outside.  

It took a minute to adjust to the dim lighting. It was darker inside than what he was expecting. He blinked a few times, hand resting on the wall to hold his balance as he looked around, shaking himself from the memories.  

Lamps were spread throughout the common room to offset the abrasive overhead lighting left untouched. Bucky started to wonder if he maybe it was on purpose, if he wasn’t the only one who had become sensitive to these things, when Sam walked into the room.  

He froze.  

“Holy shit!” Sam’s mouth rose up into that goddamn know-it-all smile, wide enough to show teeth and the dimples in his cheeks, and Bucky winced. Sam started to laugh as he crossed the space to where Bucky was standing. “I didn’t think you’d actually come!”

“Yeah, well,” Bucky shrugged, “I’m here. Don’t make this a big thing.”

“Who me?” Sam scoffed, feigning offense. “You know Steve’s the one who’s going to blow this up. He might throw a welcome party if you ever show up to the support group.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “That’s not happening.”

“Yeah, I figured as much.” Sam nodded, though he was still smiling. He looked almost... proud? It didn’t sit well in Bucky’s stomach. “Still, got you out of that cramped apartment, didn’t I? You open those curtains yet or are you still living like a vampire?”

Bucky glared at him. Sure, Sam was right... but he didn’t need to know that.  

“Come on, I’ll show you around.” Sam put a hand on Bucky’s back to guide him down the hall.  

He was only one of two people Bucky tolerated touching him at all and he was lucky he didn’t flinch anymore. Even an innocent touch from his own mother when she tried to hold his hand after he came back from his final tour had nearly left him in a panic attack. She’d cried as Bucky desperately tried to gather his breath, shoving her away as if she’d burned him.  

Sam and Steve didn’t give him much of a choice. They didn’t handle him with kid gloves or treat him like he was about to break. Even if he was splintering at the seams, you’d never be able to tell with how Sam and Steve were around him; like old times, like nothing had changed, like they were still three kids dressed in fresh uniforms with chips on their shoulders and a whole new world ahead of them.

After a while, the small pats on the back and the nudges in his side became a small comfort; not that he’d tell them. It was a strange feeling to both be repulsed by touch and crave it. But the topic didn’t come up much these days outside of his friends anyway. No one tried to touch him and he didn’t seek it out. It was easier that way.  

“The kitchen’s over here,” Sam said as he pointed into a room that had likely once been covered in white tiles and appliances, though now resembled more of a pale yellow. Two men were hunched over at the table, nursing coffee out of Styrofoam cups as a woman waited eagerly by a toaster.  

“Everything in there is free rein,” Sam added. “Always stocked with food from donations, though I would make sure to check the expirations on the milk before adding it to your coffee.” He shivered at an unpleasant memory and Bucky found the edge of his mouth curl, though he suppressed it rather quickly. 

The next room was mostly empty save for the wooden lined floors and chairs folded up against the wall. A sheet covered the small window peering inside that read ‘group in session when closed.’

“I know what you’re thinking,” Sam started, to which Bucky narrowed his eyes, “but I’m not going to force you into the support group, Buck. You go when you’re ready. If you ever are. Talking about this stuff, or even listening to it... it isn't for everybody. Steve will get that, too. We all find our outlets eventually. You’ll find yours, too.”  

Bucky nodded, a swell of relief in his chest. He’d been forced into a mental evaluation by the army docs shortly after his discharge; something about routine testing, but he knew what they were looking for – what all those shrinks were looking for – Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  

The nightmares came first, soon after he’d returned to the States. It started in screams that burned deep into his throat, waking up neighbors at two in the morning, finding blood in his bed from injuries he’d caused in his sleep. Lately they’d manifested into sweat drenched in his sheets and a heart rate that couldn’t seem to even out until the sun rose.  

Then came the jumpiness – the flinching at every loud noise, thinking it was a bomb or the latch of a safety. He’d broken more glasses than he cared to admit, knocking them straight of his hand at the sound of a gunshot on the television.  

Then the paranoia settled in, then the hypervigilance. The anxiety in crowds and tight spaces was new, though. Add it to the list, he supposed.  

Through all of it, he never let the shrink catch on. He’d put on a smile and tell them he was proud of his service, that he’d serviced his country with honor and he was thankful to return to the civilian side of things for a change.  

It was bullshit.  

He was pissed. He lost an arm and half his mind to a war that recruited him young and idealistic right out of high school, when he was looking for a better life than what his neighborhood could offer, to put food on the table for his ma and sister. Pissed was understated.  

He wouldn’t find himself in Steve’s group; of that he was certain. You don’t talk about those things after you leave the desert. Hell, you barely acknowledge them while you’re there. It’s just how it works. It’s how you deal with it. Bucky didn’t allow himself to consider whether his method was doing him much better.

Sam walked him through the common areas, the lounge space, even a room with a pretty decent sized television and a shelf filled with DVDs. It was a nice enough place. Quiet. But so was his apartment.  

“Now this is the best room in the house.” Sam opened a door on his left, the hinges squeaking under an old wooden frame as he stepped inside.  

Bucky followed in closely behind and was surprised when a subtle scent of pine brushed his senses. A small candle was burning at the center of a coffee table, surrounding it were a few couches, all with mismatched fabrics, laid upon a carpet that looked to have been donated from an estate sale. The walls around him were lined with shelves, though they were completely empty. Cob webs hung in the corners and dust lined the wood.  

What caught his eye was a single cart at the edge of the room. It was filled with books, all in bright colors on the binding and tags from the Brooklyn Public Library piled high on top of one another, far beyond the confines of the cart itself.  

“Y/n? Where you at, kid? We got a newbie!” Sam called, nudging Bucky in the side with a playful wink he did not return.  

A figure suddenly jumped from behind the couch with a book in hand covered in layers of dust and crumbs. The sudden movement forced a flinch deep in Bucky’s chest, his breath held tight in his lungs, though he kept himself firm on the surface, like stone. It took a minute before he realized how tight he’d barreled his fist and he slowly released his grip before Sam could notice.  

“Been looking for this one for over a year!” you exclaimed, holding up the book for Sam to see. You brushed off the cover, restoring the original vibrant hue of the artwork. “Can’t even imagine the overdue fees I’ve racked up on this sucker...”

There was a strange lightness in your voice Bucky didn’t expect, a tenderness and a sunshine that didn’t belong amongst the dark overcast of the men and women who occupied these rooms. It certainly sat in dangerous contrast to the gravel and stone in Bucky’s voice and the clouds that usually followed in his wake.

He glanced down at his clothes as you approached; a pair of old ripped jeans from a few years ago, a faded t-shirt, and his army jacket hung over his shoulders. Dull and raggedy, ripping at the seams.

But you? Dressed in the warmest shade of a red knit sweater, a gentle glow on your cheeks, a softness about your movements, you resembled the sort of sunset at the end of a highway one would stop the car to capture on film. Inviting. Tender and ethereal. Lovely.  

You stepped closer and he noticed the knees of your jeans were covered in dust, your palms too. Messy in the pursuit of happiness, like a child on a playground. You didn’t seem to mind the dust as you brushed it off your knees, holding the found book close to your chest like an extension of your own heart.

“Blame it on Lang. He's always losing stuff around here,” Sam offered as you set the book on the cart. You started to laugh and swatted Sam in the arm. A pout perched on your lips, though it didn’t seem to last long. Your laugh was infectious.  

Bucky swallowed as he watched you; the way your smile wrinkled up into your eyes as if a face like yours was drawn and designed to curve at the lips and push dimples to your cheeks. It shined into the bright hues in your irises and Bucky wondered if you would keep smiling like that forever, if it were possible that he could stare into the sun and not be burned; if instead, he could find warmth in its embrace.  

His heart stammered, his breath shallow, but it wasn’t unpleasant like it had been on the busy streets. It was something new, a sensation he hadn’t had since before he signed his name to a cause that took his arm and his dignity.  

Y/n, Sam had called you. It was a beautiful name. He didn’t know if he could even find things beautiful again after what he’d seen overseas. You were the first, he supposed.  

He must have been staring too long, because your lips were moving to words he didn’t hear, and suddenly two pairs of eyes were on him. His heart skipped, frozen in embarrassment.  

“This must be your first day of school,” you teased, extending your right hand to him.  

Bucky stared down at it, heart pounding, and before Sam could politely tell you that Bucky didn’t really do that sort of thing, he pulled his hand from his pocket and shook it. You had a firmer grip than he was expecting, but still soft. Your fingers were like ice and it was a nice contrast to the swelter he felt under his jacket.  

Sam raised an eyebrow, surprised by Bucky's sudden willingness to take the hand of a stranger, though thankfully he didn’t say anything. A shit eating grin curved up upon his lips and that, Bucky could have done without.  

“Thought it was time I checked it out,” Bucky said, his voice a little dry. You let go of his hand and Bucky found he missed the contact almost instantly.  

“Dragged him here by the skin of his teeth is more like it,” Sam interjected and Bucky’s ears burned red. He shot Sam a glare, who only shrugged, unbothered by his humiliation of his friend. “Been trying to get his sorry ass through the door for a few months now.”

You nodded, though your smile never wavered. Your eyes remained on Bucky, listening to Sam, but intently studying the lines on Bucky’s face. It left him feeling exposed, but somehow, even as his own gaze trailed to the floor, he didn’t mind you watching him like that, like maybe you found worth in what you saw. He adjusted his stance, suddenly remembering the startling absence on his left.  

“Well, I’m glad you’re here now,” you said, brushing Sam off in his teasing. “I’ve been volunteering at this place for a little over a year. We got good people here. I’m sure you’ll fit right in...” you paused, biting on your lip.  

“Bucky,” he offered because he could tell you were waiting for it. You smiled at his name and a sense of pride burned bright in his chest. God, if he could just make you smile like that again...

“Bucky’s a cool name,” you grinned, though Sam rolled his eyes. “That short for something?”

“Don’t lie to the new kid, Y/n. We all know it’s corny as hell,” Sam interrupted playfully before Bucky could get a word in. You wacked Sam on the shoulder and Bucky felt the edges of his lips curve. It felt strange, achy, like he hadn’t done that in a while. Maybe he hadn’t.  

“Buchanan,” Bucky answered, though he quickly added, “but my first name’s James. James Barnes.”

“Well, James Barnes,” you started, exchanging a knowing look with Sam that made Bucky’s stomach twist in knots, “I run a book club of sorts on Sunday evenings around six. You should swing by. We’re always looking for new members.”

“Y/n works at the Brooklyn library most days,” Sam explained. “We’re lucky to have her. Never thought I’d see so many tattooed men with biceps the size of my head sitting in a circle talking ‘bout books, but Y/n works magic. Everyone loves her. Helps that her book club is pretty unconventional.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “Unconventional?”

Sam started to say more, but you pouted your lips at him and he left the words on the edge of his tongue. He held up his hands in defense and took a step back, returning the smile to your face.  

“Don’t listen to him,” you said, laughing so sweetly Bucky was sure his knees might give out at any second. “It’s a good time, I promise. No pressure at all.”

Bucky nodded, considering his options. The idea of seeing you again could make the walk down to the VA worth it, but he wasn’t sold on the concept of sitting in a room full of ex-combat vets probably using a shared book as a proxy for a support group. He wondered if you had them reading something about PTSD or adjusting to civilian life or a memoir of some guy embellishing his time overseas to make a quick buck.  

But he wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, so he asked, “what are you reading?”  

You shrugged. “Depends on who you ask.”  

Bucky raised an eyebrow, confused.  

“Just think about it,” you suggested as you unclicked the lock at the bottom of the cart. The front wheel was broken and you struggled to get an angle to move in the direction you pushed it. “I should head back to the library. It was really nice to meet you, Bucky. I’ll see you later, Sam.”

Bucky nodded, finding himself searching for something else to say, some kind of excuse to get you to stay longer, but came up empty. You smiled at him, all bright and starry eyed, and his knees felt weak again. Shit.  

“Don’t let Stark talk your ear off on the way out,” Sam warned, a laugh in his voice.  

“I think I know my boys around here by now, Samuel,” you teased back. Bucky couldn’t quite tell if it was a pang of jealousy in his stomach or an eagerness to be included. It was a strange rush of feelings he hadn’t tapped into in years; not necessarily unpleasant, but certainly unfamiliar.  

You paused by the door, turning back and capturing Bucky’s eye one last time. “Sunday at six, alright? I’ll see you there.”

He didn’t say anything, but you seemed to take his silence as confirmation. You gave him a final wave before you disappeared into the hallway. He could hear the click of the broken front wheel on your cart echoing down the hall.  

Bucky and Sam followed you out of the room and hung back by the makeshift library doors.  

“What did I tell you!” Sam cheered, nudging Bucky hard enough on the side to knock him off his balance. He was too fixated on watching grumpy old men and stone-faced women pass by in the hallway with smiles on their faces as they saw you.  

“It’s, uh, it’s not bad.” Bucky waited until you disappeared out the front doors and onto the busy sidewalks before he turned to Sam. He was watching him with a sort of I-told-you-so look that made Bucky want to slap the dimples straight from his face. “...what?”

“Nothing, man.” Sam shrugged, though there was something lingering in the smirk he wore, like maybe he knew something Bucky didn’t.  

He didn’t care for that one bit.