#whatever the case this fucked up violent people are trying to break me

[cocoaletta]

wip of hammer for this silly project, peep the funnee tags

[sailorgundam308]

Karlach isn't a good girl

Listen, LISTEN. I love her, okay? Now that's out of the way. I see many people reducing her personality to the "big friendly labrador dog" thing. And while it's cute and all that, I disagree. Let me get into why I think Karlach isn't the goodie nice girl she puts a lot of effort to be. She has just returned to Faerun when we meet her in game, and she IS trying her bestest to start anew, to be the best version of herself now that she is free. But it doesn't mean she was always like that, or that her past has not changed her. I think it did - quite a lot, in fact.

Let's start with Gortash. She worked for this fucker. Granted, she might not have known he was such an evil bastard at the time, but she was his bodyguard. And by bodyguard, it is implied that she was his bully, his enforcer and debt collector - you know, the kind that breaks knees and kills people. When she meets an old friend in the city, that friend asks her if she is still in "the business of intimidation", and offers her to come see weapons. Even though Karlach, in her mind, might have been convincing herself that doing such a job was to help someone she respected, she still did it. And that is FINE. She was a young orphan, a tiefling in a place where tieflings are discriminated against harshly, poor and without much perspective. Of course a guy coming over offering her a well paid job that she excelled in would seem like winning a lottery. Still, she was a pretty shady violent person doing it. Now, the Hells. Avernus. She was sold to Zariel quite young still, and went through all sorts of torture and other perks enslavement gets you. For 10 years. She was scared shitless while there, especially in the beginning - she says so herself (to Halsin). All the carnage she inflicted was not (very) voluntary. She HAD to, or she would be the one getting killed. But she enjoyed it - or grew to. She likes violence, the adrenaline of it, the rush of excitement. The thrill of it, she says, is second only to sex.

Continuing on. Avernus, as well as the other layers of the Nine Hells, is not like the Material Plane. The place itself influences you. It means that being in Avernus for any time changes/corrupts/influences who you are. The longer you stay there, the deeper it gets. It did so to Zariel who was a literal angel. Avernus (and it's Archdevil's personality) insidiously get in your body and heart. It is just the way it goes, lore-wise, in DnD. If a fucking SOLAR wasn't immune to it, Karlach - young and lost - certainly wouldn't be either. Even more so because she was near Zariel all the time. I strongly believe Karlach was getting more and more exactly like Zariel - who herself is a fierce berserker warrior who charges head first into battle. Zariel is KNOWN to be this crazy strong, insane, fearless and (in her mind) righteous demon-smiting war machine. Sounds similar to a nice red tiefling we know, doesn't it? Now, did Zariel chose Karlach beause she was already like this, or did Karlach took after Zariel while she fought with her? Hard to tell. In any case, Karlach's 10 years in the Hells did change her. Needless to say, Avernus doesn't change you for the better. It doesn't mean that Karlach became "evil" - she is obviously far from it. But she is chaotic, violent and bloodthirsty. She is also selfish. There are several situations where this personality trait of her comes up.

It may sound kinda wild considering how she offers to help everyone and even sacrifice herself (since she's already dying anyway) - when we meet her. But that's the thing: she is being as selfless as she can now because she has been very selfish for a very long time (proof she has a conscience). Perhaps, she is terrified of what she was becoming and is trying to make amends, to revert whatever evil was growing in her.

She mentions herself that she did not help the tieflings of Elturel when their city was pulled down into Avernus. She did not get out of her way to help them. Instead, she thought that if "she was living that nightmare, they'd have to live it too". She would not put her neck on the line to help another - which, not so coincidentally, is typical behavior in the Hells (again, proof that Avernus was indeed getting to her). The Hag's Vicious Mockery targeted specifically at Karlach mentions how she is willing to "sell everyone's soul's if it means she can save hers". We do not know exactly what it refers to - soul coins, throwing others under the bus, ignoring people in need - but it reinforces the idea that Karlach was not the nicest person for at least 12+ years. Granted, the devils around her were much worse - but they are DEVILS in HELL. So.

Generally, in game we notice that her effort to survive and stay alive has pushed her selfishness to grow. But it still is selfishness. Another example is how she disapproves (together with Astarion), if you say to healer Nettie that you "swear to drink the Wyvern poison". She wouldn't drink it. She'd rather kill Nettie (that gets hostile).

Another hint at her grey-ish personality is when she talks to/about Wyll after he is punished by Mizora for not having killed Karlach. She mentions that she would NOT have done the same in his place. That he was better than her. Again, she would not put her skin on the line like that. She would and has turned a blind eye to situations and persons if it meant it would guarantee her survival or avoid injury. (Mind you, I 100% belive she would do this sacrifice if she was in love with someone, though.)

She will ask to, and will use Soul Coins even though she knows it's morally a sus choice to do so. If you play as her she will repeat to herself "I won't use them, they are people's souls - and I am GOOD." like she is trying to convince herself. Because she would fucking use them to smash some big fuckers in a blink - and feel awesome while doing it. Even as her, she keeps insisting "But... maybe I can use them... JUST when I really need them." Additionally, when she talks to the bugbear merchant in Moonrise Towers and he offers her soul coins, she doesn't really feel guilty for the stories of the souls in them. She even says at some point "they are already doomed, so why not use them anyway", justifying that she will only kill evil bastards with them. In any case, the morality of her choice is debatable. It makes clear that Karlach is not "lawful good" by any stretch.

Let me reiterate that just because I am saying all this about Karlach, doesn't mean I dislike her. I think she is abso-fucking-lutely the best character in the game. But I hate to see her personality "flattened" to nice happy go lucky gal. I think she has a grey-tinged personality - she has good and bad aspects to herself; she has character flaws too.

But I also think that she is trying her damn hardest to be the best she can be right then. The opposite of what she's been. Maybe it is because she has so little time left, that she needs to be the absolute best version of herself while she can. Perhaps she is trying to be what she would have been if her parents did not die - because they seemed like great loving parents. And I think Karlach didn't turn into a broken evil maniac because of them, the way they raised her while they were alive. But she lost her mom at 6, her father around 13-15. After that, it was struggling on the streets, Gortash and Zariel - betrayal, violence, carnage, war and loneliness. It is too naive to think a person would not change after all this, that Karlach would not carry more scars than those she shows on her body. To her credit, she turned much MUCH better than anyone would have. She WILL kill with a grin on her face, seek violence, blood and even revel in it - she learned to relish it and now it's part of who she is. She is selfish, she will look out for herself and has no qualms about killing or throwing people she doesn't care for under the bus (if she sees justification for it). BUT she knows what evil is, and doesn't let shit happen to people who don't deserve it. She will side with those who suffer prejudice and fight against what she sees as injustice - but even she has a limit to how far she'd go.

If you raid the Emerald Grove, she will leave the party. To me, this screams of her trying to right her past wrongs. She left the Elturians to their fate once before, so she MUST save them now that she has another chance - and that it won't cost her her life. I love her being 1/3 brutal killing machine (and fucking LOVING it), 1/3 ptsd, fear and overcompensating trauma under a smile, and 1/3 just trying her best, really, and being lovely for it. Phew. That was a long rant. I guess I just wanted to organize my thoughts about it a bit :V

[aprilmayverse]

mayverse dash simulator

💅 pinkprlncesses Follow

🧟‍♀️ samuraishattered Follow op this is an incredibly fucked up and insensitive way to post about this. six people are dead. four of them are literal children. imagine losing a loved one and people are fucking memeing about it with supernatural. grow up. learn some fucking respect for the dead. this isn't just some quirky little fandom story like sharpie bath or whatever. these are real kids who had hopes and dreams and families and loved ones and now they are dead.

💅 pinkprlncesses Follow was it ever really that deep

🦴 trudycryme Follow New video about June July and Dysnomia Badmann's murders on the way! Special surprise at the end so stay tuned ;) Sponsored by Tender Lender <3

🦴 trudycryme Follow No fucking way

🩰 blood-and-books Follow wait, has anyone noticed that the accomplice in the bluecorp case and that 13 year old who killed her gfs parents and 2 random boys are half-sisters??

🍭 mera-duras-left-eyebrow Follow WAIT AND THEIR OLDEST SISTER HAD LINKS W/ BLUECORP TOO WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN

🪷 helloroses Follow does anyone remember how fucked up april may's career was. i rewatched pint-sized princesses after the news got out about her execution and like i know it was the 90s but what the fuck was going on there. it feels like a crime to watch it

🪷 helloroses Follow it's the same with her modelling career, why was she, a teenage girl, doing so many photoshoots where she was barely clothed. why did ad campaigns need all this

🦢 evilwomanenjoyer Follow why are we defending june july in 2018. she killed people. she murdered people. you are the same people who defend joe darke and dahlia hawthorne and matt engarde and fucking redd white. she took lives. where am i.

🐜 what-is-a-username420 Follow please learn about nuance and use your brain

🦢 evilwomanenjoyer Follow nuance is for fictional characters like pious priestess or whoever the fuck. not for real life situations like this.

🐜 what-is-a-username420 Follow sometimes im like "the reading comprehension on this site isnt THAT bad" and then i read shit like "nuance is for fiction not for real life"

🦴 trudycryme Follow I am truly, truly sorry for attempting to film those teenagers corpses and for breaking into the victims childhood home in an attempt to interview his family 2 days after the murder, I understand why I was wrong and I'm going to try my best to refrain from doing stuff like that next time lol. To further this, I'm starting a new merch collection and donating 20% of profits to JAVCV (Japanifornian Association for Victims of Violent Crime), buy it before the sale ends on March 4th!

🧟‍♀️ samuraishattered Follow not to be harsh but i hope you die

🌈 godsstrongestfujo Follow i think april may was a genuinely a bad person like she was just this rich woman who both did the modelling campaign + assisted in the murder to get money from her sugar daddy. shes not as innocent as yall make her out to be she just has pretty privelege

🍁 diskhorse-divorce Follow 1. she was not rich. she, her single mother, and sister were homeless for years. she had to be a child star and teen model to provide for herself and her family. they lived in a trailer at some point 2. she was very obviously being threatened by white. the courts said it was a lie because of fucking misogyny and white's power over her. 3. even if she did do it out of her own free will she still got executed over a crime where the death penalty at age 23 was not justified. 4. why are you calling a thirteen year old a bad person for doing an ad campaign where she was being heavily sexualised and exploited and stolen from you fucking weirdo

🩰 angelfawns Follow april may was such a tragic girl and an icon and so beautiful omg. she looked SO good during the summer 2008 ad campaign for bluecorp too. hold on i need to change my pfp

🐦‍⬛ proud-edgelord Follow if my parents named me teylhoure i wouldve killed myself too

[ladyglitterbeetle]

Eavesdropper 

✨not proof read✨

Female!reader x Clyde (electrick children)

Word count: 795

Warnings: angst

🩷🩷🩷

Walking back to mine and Clyde's apartment after a ten hour shift was never an issue, letting other girls that got kicked out of their homes was never an issue, the drugs and gun that he kept was never an issue. But making me wait at a restaurant for him on a date he planned was.

No call, no text nothing to tell me something came up or something happened. Just continuously checking my phone for two hours only to receive nothing.

"Hey clyde, it's me again. Where are you? Has something happened? I'm worried. Please call me back. Love you." After leaving that voicemail I waited for another thirty minutes before ditching the restaurant, apologising to the staff for wasting their time.

Thankfully the walk to the apartment was short, maybe only fifteen minutes. The night was cold on the part of my legs that weren't covered by my dress, but drowning out the cold by listening to the faint music that would play at the clubs I passed by.

It wasn't long before I ended up in front of the familiar building, I walked up the stairs hearing chatter, video games, sex and whatever the rest were doing.

Finally making it up to my apartment level I noticed it was quite signalling most people are asleep, I made my way down before I ended up at the door only to see it ajar.

Fear and worry came over me but as I was about to rush inside I stopped. The familiar voices of clyde and the young girl we are homing were heard. I Stand in the doorway listening to what they are saying as I continue going unnoticed.

"Why don't you just... marry me?" He spoke making me extremely confused. He wants her to marry him? "As a back up, you know? In case we don't find this guy."

"But you're not the guy on the tape." Rachel said as tears continued to fall down her face. "Well, if we find him. You can leave me." He replied to her. "You would do that?"

"Yeah." My world was breaking in front of me and they don't even notice, I feel tears well up on my eyes as she lets out a soft 'ok'

"ok?" He asked back. "Yeah. Where married." He replied happily. "Yeah. Just like that?" He asks as a smile makes its way onto his face. "Yeah. Do we say 'I love you'?"

The once happy smile slightly fades from his face as he replies. "No." Rachel looks away from him to her lap. "Maybe one day."

"Yeah. Maybe." They both say silent for a few seconds before she speaks up again. "Don't tell Mr. will... ok?" He nods at her before repeating 'ok' "you know, I... I won't touch you... like that. If you don't want it"

My mouth falls open at those words before watching her push his hair back and put her lips on his. My heart shattering when he doesn't pull away.

I slam the door the rest of the way open making them both jump apart I look at them both with tears streaming down my face and rage bubbling in my heart. "Please continue, I'm just here to get my shit." I spat as I grab my suitcase before walking around and throwing anything that was mine inside.

Clyde that got up at this point trying to explain himself but the blood rushed through my ears making it difficult to hear anything but my own heavy breaths.

"I love you." I don't think I've ever spun around so violently in my life. "You love me? Did you love me when you asked another girl to marry you? Hmm? Did you love me when tell that same girl that you basically want to fuck her? Did you love me when she kissed you and you didn't push her away?"

"Please just let me explain." Clyde pleads as he tries to grab my arm. I slap him away. "There is nothing to explain, you never loved me maybe you did once but not anymore."

I turn to the girl sitting on the couch walking up to her as she looks at me. "I never want you to know how this feels, letting someone into your home only for them to take what you love most. I wish you the best Rachel for you and your baby."

I don't look back as the calls of my name ring out down the hallway and stairwell it wasn't long before I hear rushed footsteps following after me.

But it was too late by the time Clyde made it to the front of the building the taxi was already driving away. Leaving him in a pool of rage and regret.

[turtlethebean]

BenxJacob Week Day 4: Injury

TW: Gore, injury, and blood. Plus a mild sexual joke.

Read it on AO3: Awkward Awakening - Turtle_The_Bean - Criminal Case (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own]

The first thing Jacob noticed as he woke up was the itchy feeling on his hand. He looked down to see an IV connected to his hand, which was also connected to a bag of what was presumably blood. He couldn’t quite remember what happened, but apparently, he had lost enough blood to need a transfusion. He did feel a bit lightheaded from the blood loss but overall didn’t feel any different.

He heard the door to his bedroom fling open as Ben stood there, seemingly panicked over whatever had just happened. He gave a smile, but it was when Ben hugged him that he finally started to realise what had really happened to him. He went to return the hug and realised that he couldn’t feel his left hand on the back of his shirt. In fact, he couldn’t feel any part of his left arm.

He looked over at his left arm. It wasn’t there.

The memories started slowly coming back to him. He was fighting a werewolf that had attacked him while he was out getting some firewood. He remembered teeth sinking into his arm before the excruciating pain as his shoulder was ripped straight out of its socket. He must’ve passed out sometime afterwards because he couldn’t quite remember his arm being completely ripped off.

“Jake, are you-“ Ben started before being cut off.

“Wolfsbane. Do we have any?” Jacob asked, concerned about the effects of being bitten by the werewolf.

“Yes…why?”

“Rub some on me; I need to test something.”

“That’s a bit of a weird ask, but okay.” Ben picked up some of the wolfsbane from their stash and rubbed it on Jacob’s leg.

While he was prepared for a burning sensation on his leg, Jacob was thankful it didn’t happen. He breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that he hadn’t been turned.

Still, he was now left with one arm. It would most certainly make hunting a lot more difficult, not to mention trying to explain this to people who would be nosy enough to ask him. Ben would have to take over a lot of the chores around the RV, even driving. His stomach churned at the thought of how his life would change because of this injury.

“Fuck me.” He sighed, unable to say much else without breaking down. He needed to stay strong, especially in front of his best friend.

“I would if I could,” Ben muttered under his breath.

“What?”

“What?”

“Anyways, uh,” Jacob had to pretend like he didn’t just hear what Ben had mumbled, “What…what do we do now?”

“I know you. You aren’t going to give up on hunting, are you?”

“No…not when people like that are out there. The ones that don’t want to live peacefully amongst humans and instead turn to violence. That was our deal with Aculus, even if Falcon didn’t agree with it.”

“Speaking of other people, why don’t we…I don’t know…recruit a team? I’m sure we aren’t the only ones who have lost something or someone because of violent supernatural creatures. I mean, there’s the Harper family. Why don’t we talk to them about forming some form of alliance?”

“No, the Harper family’s methods are unethical, and they don’t consider the number of supernatural creatures who just wish to live peacefully. I’m not associating with any of them.”

“Yeah, that’s true. However, I’d like to think that maybe future generations that come from families like that will be more accepting of supernatural creatures. Actually, I met their daughter…Gwen, I think her name is, and she didn’t seem to hold the same beliefs as her parents. That could just be an act, though.”

“Well, maybe one day we’ll sit down and talk with her about it, but we’re going to need more than just one person.”

“Hey, we’ll get there when we get there.”

Jacob sighed. He hated waiting around for something to happen. It was the main reason why he and Ben had started travelling the country, even occasionally taking brief visits across the borders to Mexico and Canada.

It felt as though he had lost more than his arm. He felt like he had lost control of his life. He kept thinking about the things he wouldn’t be able to do or at least be limited in doing. He didn’t know how to drive with one arm. He didn’t know how to fish with one arm. He didn’t know how to handle a saw, a chisel, or any other DIY tools with only one arm.

Would they really get back to how things were?

God, that was one thing he wished that could happen. He wished he could go back to ten years ago. He wished Lily was still alive and by his side. He wished he still had a job as an army weapons expert before his grief started to rule his life.

However, there were things he was grateful for in this current life. He had grown closer to Ben. They were close in the military, but between his help during his times of grief and living together in an RV travelling the country for the past decade or so, their bond had definitely gotten stronger. Hell, he would even say he loved Ben just like he loved Lily.

Oh god, he would say he loved Ben just like he loved Lily.

The realisation hit him like a truck. Over all these years that he had known Ben, he slowly developed feelings for him. It wasn’t a platonic kind of love that he had previously, nor the familial one he had for his parents. It was the same romantic love that he had felt years ago when he had first met Lily.

“Hey Ben,” He decided to distract himself by joking around with his friend, “What was that you said after I said fuck me?”

“Oh, come on, Jake, do you really want me to repeat it?” Ben chuckled, though a little nervous.

“Yeah, come on, it can’t be that bad.”

“Alright, fine. I said that I would if I could.”

Jacob’s brain stopped working after that sentence. That was definitely a way to find out his feelings were mutual.  Now, he was faced with a choice – swallow his pride and admit his feelings or keep quiet and let his feelings simmer as Ben wallowed in his embarrassment over what he had said.

Screw it; he wasn’t going to let his best friend feel awkward around him for God knows how long.

“I love you too.” He said suddenly as though the words had just slipped out of his mouth.

“What?” Ben’s face reddened as he stared at Jacob with wide, bewildered eyes.

“I said…I love you too.”

Ben smiled, making Jacob question his own actions until both their lips met. All the embarrassment and anxiety melted into the pure bliss of the moment.

After the kiss, Jacob felt his eyelids grow heavy as he fell back asleep, a smile still remaining on his face.

[2af-afterdark]

Hi hello it's your local long-ass walls of text anon! I hope you're doing well (depression is a bitch and I'm kicking its ass)! I also wish there was a way to know if tumblr ate my ask or not without having to bother you 😔 But in the hopes that it did not, in fact, eat it and you simply haven't gotten around to it yet... Lemme add something to my thoughts about Yandere!Beelzebub because I have a love-hate relationship with that man and he keeps haunting my thoughts.

Basically I came to the conclusion that out of all (currently known) kings, having Beel fixate on someone would probably be the worst-case scenario for that person. Because, well, just think about trying to escape the clutches of the man that:

�� Has the ability to make clones of themselves and control said clones separately;

• Is considered the strongest in terms of what he can do;

• And can fucking smell you out like a bloodhound.

How do you even run in these conditions? There are who-knows-how-many clones to avoid, there's the fact that Beel can do whatever the fuck he wants and it's not like there's anything that can really stop him in his pursuit, and the sheer fucking terror of the fact that there's no way to know for sure if he can smell you or not (he most likely can) and if he's quite literally chasing you down at this very moment while you're catching your breath.

I'm pretty sure the man can tell what and when you ate, what deodorant you used, who you interacted with and, most importantly, where you were, all from a single sniff. Yandere!Beel is also a terrifying concept because he doesn't strike me as the type to act directly with things like breaking ankles or using cages. He'd probably use his charisma (and maybe something added into his deceptively tasty food) to mansplain manipulate manslaughter his way into getting those grubby hands on whoever was unlucky enough to catch the attention of the wandering king. He'd fuck them up emotionally and make it seem like they are the one who need him.

Basically, if Yandere!Beelzebub sets his sights on you, you're fucked (in every way possible). And I have no idea if that makes me love him more or hate him more. What a deliciously complicated (I'm strangling him) and multifaceted (I'm bending him over) character.

— 💛

Alright, 💛 anon. I have been sitting on this ask for days, really thinking about it and chewing on the idea. I have to start by saying that I love yandere and will gladly take any yandere headcanons. Me, personally, I read Bael as having slight yandere tendencies based on some of the things he's said, but Bell would be interesting if he fell into that trope as well.

However, I disagree with him being the most terrifying yandere (at least upfront). I think he would probably be the kind that isn't actually scary to his Darling because he doesn't show them his worst self. Is he scary? Oh hell yes, but he would ensure they never see that scary side of him. In front of MC, he always wants to come off as the type of person who is chill and easygoing, a little flirty and always ready for them to give into their urges at the drop of a hat. He needs to be a safe, comfortable presence for them if he wants them to be relaxed with him. Because of that, I think he would be more likely to hide his darker tendencies or use them against other people when MC isn't watching. This is why, like you said in your previous example, he was immediately violent to Minhyeok until he learned his bad behavior could get back to MC through him (and MC would take him seriously).

Or, he can endear himself to MC by always being there when they need someone the most. As you said, he has clones that he can control separately. That means he can always be there whenever MC may need him, no matter how unlikely it was he would be around. And he would know when they need him because he's always watching them. He is, as you said, more manipulative and enmeshes himself to his Darling rather than holds them in a cage. He makes his Darling dependent on him in some form; likely for release and freedom, in a sense.

Point, is... You will never know you've walked into the spider's den with him. I know he's a fly, but I only have so many metaphors to work with

[redrocketpanda]

Content notice: this post is going to discuss sexual violence, sexualisation and kink related to Astarion's storyline and personal experiences

When making certain posts + writing my fic about Astarion, I knew it was only a matter of time before people would come at me for the content. It was never a question of if, but of when. Because we all know the internet lacks nuance when it comes to certain topics and there are a lot of people seem very invested in being the online morality police

Today I received the following comment on one of my Astarion posts. And whilst I don't wish to give air time to rando's on the internet and don't need (or quite frankly want) to defend myself, there are some points I would like to make in relation to this

The first point being a big reminder that: if you don't like something, DNI. There are plenty of other posts and fics about Astarion that are all fluff and love and treating him like a pretty little princess. Currently, my Astarion content is not that. There are many reasons as to why that's the case. And, again, if you don't like it... go somewhere else cause I ain't about to stop posting what I'm posting just because people disapprove or want to label me as problematic or "not giving a fuck about victims of SA"

I hate to break to ya but life ain't so black and white. Cause here's the thing - trauma + kink are irrevocably intertwined with one another. There are a lot of academic works and smarter people on the internet who will have said this better than me, but the main point that I want to make is that people who create particular kinds of content are often playing in the spaces that they were forged in. It is in the very act of creation that we process things we've experienced, and it's up to us what kinds of narratives we want to explore/tell and what kinds of experiences we want to have (on and offline)

Not to get all TMI on main but I am someone who is actively and unashamedly engaged in many kinds of kink. Do you know what I adore? Being treated like shit in quite domineering and violent ways. Do you know what else I love? Topping little brats who need to be forcefully put in their places. And do you know what else I have? A lifetime of experience of domestic, intimate partner, and sexual violence. This is actually incredibly normal and okay. People who have experienced trauma are multi-faceted beings.

Kink is often a place where people can safely experience untold levels of catharsis (and by extension I am including writing + gameplay in this too). This isn't the case for everyone, though it is certainly true for me, and ofc there are healthier and unhealthier ways of doing this. There was a period of my life not too long ago when I was putting myself in very risky situations to get my kicks, and now I write about fictional characters experiencing these instead bc that's what I want to be doing with my life right now

And nobody gets to tell me shit about what I enjoy, or tell me how to enjoy it, or try to make me feel guilty for it

When I say that I get off on seeing Astarion bloody and bruised, when I say he deserves to be punished and write fic about that, when I play in the space of ownership and toxic relationships, I do so from a place of lived experience. I do so from a place of being well-read and well-practiced in kink. I do so from a place free from shame and fear of what other people will think. Because I have every right to say what I say, to write what I write, and to enjoy what I enjoy. And actually, it doesn't and shouldn't matter. Even if I didn't have those experiences or knowledge, I'm still allowed to create whatever the fuck I want to create and it doesn't make me a "bad person" bc it doesn't subscribe to this puritanical moral agenda that's been seeping all over the internet (Side note: I put this in the tags but it bears reiterating here. This also reeks of the kind of shitty comments that get made about how dom's are perpetrators of abuse and violence, or that subs are victims who are being taken advantage of, which I don't even have time to go into here bc there is a lot of history behind that. but just fyi. don't. just... don't. and if you wanna know why go ask google)

I also say/write/create from a place of my personal interpretation that I think Astarion gets off on masochism too. Have you met the guy? There's so much in his character that indicates that he likes to get slapped about and teased. And yes, I do know his story, I know his background, I know him. Because there is a lot about Astarion which is a mirror of myself. And I am playing with that reflection in lots of different ways (yes, that's an Astarion joke)

There will be a time when I have a very different kind of romance with Astarion, but that's not the kind of experience I want to have right now and maybe, in some ways, I'm not ready for it. Just a few weeks ago I wrote the below piece at 3am (which is now part of a sakuatsu piece about self-acceptance and love) when I woke up crying my eyes out and needed a creative outlet for how I was feeling at the time

Not that he calls it quits. Because the messages never stop coming, they flow freely from the tap. Anytime, anywhere. Whenever he wants it. He's always in demand. Because they all want him, they all want something from him.  But he doesn't care. Sometimes he loves it, gets off on it, can't get enough of it. Sometimes it leaves him feeling cold and empty and broken. At the end of the day, what does it matter? It's all that he's good for anyway

And tonight I got hit with Astarion essentially saying something very similar:

The moment I met Astarion, I knew that what we were seeing is a cleverly constructed performance. It's a facade, stitched together of hypersexualised behaviour, witty banter and a charming smile. I would know that performance anywhere, because it's one I've been playing for over a decade. It's a survival mechanism, a mask; something which endears you to others, which makes them like you, sometimes even love you. This performance is something that Astarion has become so very good at that it's become etched onto his soul. He doesn't know who he is without it, he doesn't know what he wants. But now he has the chance to find out.

And here's the thing: he doesn't have to suddenly become some super reformed character or stop getting his kicks in sadomasochistic ways. You can be all about bodily autonomy, self-love, and healthy boundaries, and still also have big ole' ownership, degradation, pain, and praise kinks actually. And there sure as hell ain't nothing wrong with that. Because, again, people are multi-faceted.

There is space for people who want to give Astarion a hug and tell him that he's loved, to have a really tender soft romance with him. And there is space for people who think that Astarion is a horrendous little man who is in need of objectification and punishment. Both of these stances are super valid and fun.

So now, if you'll excuse me, I shall depart from this very long personal essay (that probably no one will read, but which needed to be said anyway). I've got a dungeon scene that's not going to write itself.

[bluedalahorse]

You know what? No wonder I was struggling to write fic this week.

Turns out it has very little to do with fic at all.

Life stuff beneath cut.

I’m not going to say too much about this because it is heavy and I don’t want to talk about these things on tumblr too much. For me, I curate tumblr as primarily a fandom and creative space. I know other people use theirs in other ways; I admire people who can use their tumblrs for politics and activism but so much of my career is wrapped up in those things I like. Need a space apart from My Paid Job, you know?

So. Speaking of my Paid Job. Today we had our usual weekly meeting of everyone getting together, and we had to discuss the plans for Election Week. We’ve been discussing our plans for the last few months, really, but this was the time someone finally voiced like, what if something happens? Like what if things get violent and we’re trapped at work, or someone violently attacks our workplace or something. Given my workplace, this is less likely than other places in the city, but also not like… not out of the realm of possibility that this would happen, given some of the people we’re connected to.

Our supervisor mentioned keeping a change of clothes and underwear at work, in case we’re stuck or locked down overnight or something. And she alluded to some of the advanced emergency training she has to do. Like, she didn’t go into all of it, but she did share the scary detail where like, she apparently knows how to shut down the HVAC system so if someone floods our vents with dangerous gas or chemicals, then it won’t be spread throughout the building. Or something like that. Which… what the fuck.

The scariest thing is that no matter the outcome of things a few weeks from now, I’m sort of taking for granted there will be violence in the city at some point. I am dreading it, if you could take the concept of dread and multiply it by a million. When I was in college I had friends from NYC who had fucked up memories and trauma around 9/11 in a way I couldn’t quite grasp as someone who was not from NYC. But now I have my own event—for me, that day was Jan 6. I know it was a fucked up day for all of us but for those of us who live here it like. Look. I know I am going to be unpacking what happened for years. I know people who live a few blocks from the Capitol who boarded up their windows ahead of time or left the city. I know someone who was in the Capitol and had to barricade herself in a room to stay safe from the rioters.

Anyhow. It helped to do some voter outreach this morning but I do think everyone in DC right now, or at least everyone at my workplace, is sort of like… cycling through trauma-fueled anxiety spikes, and I don’t mean that in a way where the internet sometimes overuses those words, I just… mean it. (I should probably plan for a tumblr hiatus around election week, because I’m not in a headspace to handle discourse about America whatever happens. The discourse should probably exist but it’s also probably better for me to not be around it.)

On top of that, my close person who lives with me is not home at present. And one of my other closest people is going through the worst time with her own living space. And everything feels very… off its routine.

I am going to try to maintain what routine I can for the time being, but damn do I wish there was some sort of clear and meaningful break in sight.

It really would be nice to be able to just think about writing Sara and August in situations.

[klbwriting]

The Jason Todd Anomaly

Chapter 7: What Else Do You Need To Tell Me?

Pairing: Jason Todd x female!Reader

Warnings: little violent, nothing too bad

Summary: Penguin is arrested and Y/N finds something interesting on the feather she received a few months ago

Y/N and Jason were awkwardly dancing around each other both in the gym and in the evenings.  Y/N was getting more calls telling her to not get involved, and Jason was doing his best to watch her back without her knowing.  Something was brewing in Gotham and he didn't want her to get killed trying to stop whatever storm was happening.  She, in turn, was trying to solve the mystery around the mysterious calls, sticking her nose where it really didn't belong.  She was getting better but was still sloppy enough that Jason spent more time cleaning up after her than actually doing his patrols.  The Robins were bitching about it to him constantly and it was grating on his nerves.  Finally, after a month of waiting, Y/N got a break in her case when the tech she had convinced to run tests on the feather from her apartment gave her the report.

"Wait, are you telling me that this isn't a real feather?" she asked, looking over the analysis.  The tech shrugged.  He looked frazzled.  The police had been able to catch Penguin the previous evening with the help of the Robins and they were swamped trying to round up his thugs in his territory and take it over.  She had been funneling calls all morning asking about the school and hotel and when people could start moving.   She was able to string lies together to stall for time but she hoped that by the next week she could start getting people settled.

"Its a high quality fake, not cheap, but you can tell because there's a poem on the inside of the calamus," he said, taking the file and showing her the second page.  She took the file back and frowned.  "No idea what it means but that's all I could get from it.  Now I have better things to do, bye."  He gave a tight smile and took off to get back to his real work.  Y/N sat at her desk reading the poem a few times in confusion, snapping a picture of it on her phone to search later.

Beware The Court of Owls, that watches all the time, ruling Gotham from a shadow perch, behind granite and lime. They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed, speak not a whispered word of them or they'll send The Talon for your head

"What the actual fuck?" she whispered.  She needed to talk to someone about this.  Dammit.  She would have to figure out a way to get in touch with Red Hood or the Robins.  She glanced over when the police were bringing in Penguin and frowned.  He was beaten badly, worse then she could imagine the cops around here doing.  There were few decent cops and these people were about it, so why did it look like someone had kicked the shit out of Penguin?  Another thing to ask the Robins, if one of them had done it that is, she couldn't imagine even Red Hood doing that, he would have just shot the bastard and been done with it.  Behind her someone called her name.  She stood and took a few steps, looking around for whoever needed her, but no one seemed to even noticed she was there.  Shrugging she turned back to her desk and saw that the report on the feather was gone.  Fuck.

Jason was very good at lying to people.  He could lie to anyone, just not himself.  Something about dying and coming back to life gave him time to reflect and in truth, lying to yourself was a waste of time and time wasn't a luxury he felt he had anymore.  He had died once, who knows when he would be killed again.  Joker was dead, but Harley might still want to take him out.  He did kill her boyfriend after all.  He wasn't going to tell himself that he didn't have some inkling of feelings for Y/N.  That her being Anomaly didn't make her more attractive to him.  That every time he met up with her he considered actually telling her who he was, seeing if they could work together, maybe take her to the diner with the intention of going on a date.  But he wasn't going to tell anyone else that, ever, especially not Y/N.  He wouldn't tell her who he was, he wouldn't tell her that he knew who she was, and he would never, ever, tell her that he had feelings for her.  That would complicate matters more than he could handle.  He could take this secret to the grave.  He definitely would never admit it or do anything about his feelings.  He was Jason Fucking Todd, been dead, brought back to life, shot, stabbed, poisoned, he could contain his emotions over one girl.  Totally.

He definitely wasn't outside Gotham PD waiting to see her leave so that he could make sure she got home safe before starting patrols, he wanted to make sure she stayed home that night instead of heading out on her own. He knew something was going on in Gotham and he didn't want anyone else to get involved, especially not someone so new to this life.  If she stayed home that night he could go out and patrol in peace, maybe even follow the lead about Penguin's arrest.  None of his family had brought him in, and he knew that Y/N wouldn't have been able to pull that off yet, but he had noticed at the scene of arrest that someone stood in the shadows, watching.  He had gotten a scan on the person's face and was having Alfred look into it for him.  If he found that person maybe he could start unraveling the mystery behind the 'war for Gotham'.  He groaned when Y/N went into her apartment and not even 10 minutes later, just as true dark was setting on the city, climbed out of her window and jumped to the roof next to her balcony.  Fuck.

He donned his helmet and took off after her.  She headed into his territory and found the diner, watching it.  Did she think he lived there or something?

"What are you doing?" he asked, coming over to where she perched.  She looked back at him, not startled.  At some point she must have realized he was following.

"I was waiting for you to show yourself," she said.   "I wanted to ask you and your friends about Penguin's arrest."  He folded his arms and tilted his head, waiting for her to continue.  "I saw when they brought him in, he looked like someone had been trying to kill him, or at least bring him as close to death as possible.  I know the Robins wouldn't be that vicious, and I don't feel like you would either, you would just put him down, so you have any ideas?"  Jason frowned, contemplating this news.  He hadn't actually seen Penguin, only knew of the arrest.  He was already in the back of the van when Jason had arrived on the scene.  Penguin beat to hell wasn't the MO for any of them, not even Damian, they all wanted him to go into Gotham PD and spill secrets about the other crime lords, not be so incapacitated he was useless.  He started pacing as Anomaly just watched.

"None of us are responsible for that," he said.  "Did you notice anything else when you saw him?"  She shook her head.  He could tell there was something else even with her mask.  Her body was still perched, too still, like she was worried about moving, about setting something off.  A bomb that she didn't know how to disengage.  "What else do you need to tell me?"

"I don't need to tell you anything, but I do need to ask your help," she said.  "You and your Robin friends."  She pulled out a piece of paper and held it out to him.  There was a poem on it.  "A couple months ago I got a call at my place, some voice telling me to not stick my nose where it doesn't belong, about a war for Gotham.  I thought it was you at first, trying to scare me off, but then I found this feather on my windowsill, my window open.  I took it to a friend I have in the GCPD and he found out the feather was fake, some kind of fancy costume piece I think.  And embedded on the stem was this poem.   Something about a Court of Owls.  You ever heard of them?"

"I have no idea what that is, but I've been getting message too, about a war, and about you keeping out of it," he said.  Her eyes bored into him.  "I don't know why they thought I could stop you, but they threatened you, me and the rest of the city, getting wrapped up in this war."  She stood finally, moving over to him, taking the poem.

"They say they rule Gotham from the shadows, and now Gotham is in pieces, must be pretty hard to rule when several other people are vying for the same crown.   Wonder if these bird people got sick of waiting for someone else to take out their competition," she said.  "They take out Penguin, give him to the GCPD, which we all know are easy to corrupt, get some good graces with the commissioner, try to start ruling again."

"I don't thin Gordon is the type to roll over and give up the city to these dramatic dickbags," Jason said.

"You haven't seen him recently have you?  Gordon isn't what he used to be, since Batman disappeared he's been despondent, he has an assistant handling more and more of the day to day duties, only handling big things when he can take it.  I worry he might be in the perfect position for someone to come in and tell him he can take a break, that Gotham can be run by those who care about it.  I mean, giving him Penguin?   That's a gift from these fuckers," she said.  Jason frowned.  He hadn't seen Gordon since he had told them that Bruce was missing, presumed dead, he might not be the same man he was then.  He might be getting beaten down by the constant shit that was thrown at him.  Jason turned to face Anomaly completely just as a creature appeared behind her, grabbing her from behind and disappearing her into the shadows.  He moved to give chase when he felt a surge of electricity in his whole body.  He collapsed, only seeing the feet of the same kind of creature before he passed out.  Fuck.

[gay-otlc]

Roisin's Reading Rumble: Round 2

@camelspit @arson-anarchy-death

Brant playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2esYP1SdGXt54qMk9AgH9I?si=969c4f77e25b4493

Lyric explanations under cut

House On Fire by Rise Against

I thought that we would build this together But everything I touch just seems to break

From the time Brant and Jolie were young, and met in a pet store, they were in love. They expected to have a future together, and desperately wanted to be on each other's match lists against the odds. Even when they were labeled a bad match, they were planning a wedding. Clearly, they planned to build a life together.

However, Brant's rage at the system that hurt him, and at Jolie for choosing the Black Swan over the Neverseen, led to him destroying her and the future they'd planned.

So I'll just hold you like a hand grenade You touch me like a razor blade I wish there was some other way right now, oh oh Like a house on fire we're up in flames I'd burn here if that's what it takes To let you know I won't let go of you, oh oh

Even though Brant killed Jolie, he loved her to the end. In their case, they had a literal house on fire- the fire that Brant set after his fight with Jolie. However, this works in a metaphorical sense as well. The two of them were a bad match in a world that hated bad matches, and two people on opposite sides of a war. Their love was doomed, and it was inevitable that it would go up in flames, but they tried regardless, right up until they couldn't.

As Brant killed Jolie, despite his anger with her, he stayed by her side. He refused to let go of her, staying in the fire and suffering severe burns.

How is it a thing That we just wanna hurt each other I'm waiting out the rain 'Cause life is gonna rain forever Someday you will learn That all I ever did was for you And I would do it all again I would do it all again

The tragedy of their story is that Jolie loved and trusted Brant, and he hurt her. He killed her. Still, he never stopped loving her. Violent as his actions may have been, he did them because he loved Jolie, in his own misguided way. Joining the Neverseen, trying to burn down the system that hurt them- that was for Jolie. After he killed her, he continued to work with the Neverseen. He regretted killing her, but he didn't regret doing whatever it took to fight for a life together.

Freak Like Me by Transviolet

'Is there anybody out there? Hello can you hear me? Or am I just screaming to the void? I'm not looking for a savior I just need somebody Telling me I'm not in this alone

Ever since he manifested, Brant has been demonized by the Lost Cities for being a Pyrokinetic. The world called him a monster, even before he did anything wrong. He felt alone and scared, with an ability he didn't know how to control and a world that would hate him if they knew the truth.

This is where Fintan comes in. Brant felt rejected by everyone, or knew he would be rejected if they found out he was a pyrokinetic. However, Fintan helped to mentor Brant, taught him to control his ability, and showed him that he wasn't alone. Even though Fintan hurt a lot of people, and encouraged Brant to hurt people by joining the Neverseen, he was the only person to know what Brant was and still treat him with kindness.

Is there anybody out there? Are you a freak like me? Getting kicked out somewhere Are you a freak like me?

Fintan got kicked off of the Council after pyrokinesis was made illegal, and Brant was abandoned by his parents after he manifested. Even his parents, who were meant to love him unconditionally, treated him like a freak for his ability. Brant felt alone and rejected, but Fintan was there for him; another "freak," willing to support him when no one else would.

You don't gotta walk that way alone Fuck this place We don't gotta go back there

Once Brant has Fintan on his side, and is no longer alone, the two of them work together to fight back against the world that treated them like freaks. Instead of accepting the way they're treated and assimilating into the Lost Cities, denying who they are and their craving for fire, they say "fuck this place" and join with the Neverseen, trying to destroy the system that hurt them.

Duality by Set It Off

I can't quite contain or explain my evil ways Or explain why I'm not sane All I can say is this is your warning

The Lost Cities labeled Brant as evil, a criminal, simply on the basis of his ability. They labeled him a monster, and he could do nothing to make them view his otherwise, so he chose to become the monster they called him. His actions took a toll on his sanity; his mind didn't break from the guilt, but he was described as not quite stable. Because of the way the Lost Cities harmed him, he chose to harm them back.

I have a confession that you will not believe That you could not perceive this freak, gonna set it off I have a confession, of a side that I hide

For a long time, Brant had to hide his ability, and had to hide who he was. Eventually, he grew tired of hiding and lived openly as a pyrokinetic. Let them call him a freak; he wasn't going to deny himself anymore.

I am good, I am evil I am solace, I am chaos I am human, and that's all I've ever wanted to be

At the start of his journey, Brant was a good person. As a child, he reached out to Jolie and agreed to share the pet he desperately wanted, sacrificing some of his time with it. He cared about her deeply, trying to make her happy and sending her love letters when they were separated.

Despite how good he was at the start, his rage at being rejected by the world took over eventually, and he became evil. He killed the love of his life, joined the Neverseen, kidnapped and tortured Sophie. He provided solace for Jolie, when they were younger, but he also brought chaos and destruction to the Lost Cities.

All he wanted was to be treated as equal. The Lost Cities treated him as not quite a human elf because of who he was. He was denied the education he wanted, denied the right to marry the person he loved. When he was still just a child who wanted to be worthy of the treatment everyone else got, the world dehumanized (de-elvinized?) him.

[queen-beefcake-sqx]

I just realized someone already said 69 :(

So in that case I say 42(0)

42 "Leave Out All the Rest" by Linkin Park

GOD I LOVE LINKIN PARK AND THIS SONG HOLDS A SPECIAL PLACE IN MY HEART I was such a fucking edgy emo kid who went through a whole string of break ups with close friends and I wound up listening to this song a lot and thinking about how ~*terrible*~ my old friends must think of me after what an ~*emotional mess*~ I was. And one if that isn't big fucking Harry Du Bois energy I don't know what is.

But also like on a more real note --

This is a half-formed thought, but there's a whole thing going on in Disco Elysium about legacies. Histories. The things people have done that have left a lasting impact on the world around us, both on a global and local scale. I've already talked extensively about my thoughts about Harry's memory loss and how it allows him to have a positive relationship with Kim specifically BECAUSE the Harry Kim meets has no concept of history! Harry threw away his legacy with his clothes and his car and his gun!

And I think that's partially because Harry was so fucking ashamed of himself. Harry was a violent drunk who was doing work his ex-girlfriend had convinced him would be good for him and now saw no way out except to attempt suicide. multiple times. in a variety of styles and with various degrees of publicness. the Harry who stumbled into his room in the Whirling-in-Rags that night was one who felt he'd left behind nothing good or glorious or worth staying for.

... And then Harry wakes up again, faced with the wreckage of a life he doesn't remember but one with Very Real Lasting Consequences none the less. And Harry has the face the reality that the person he was before the Kineema woke him was Not A Great Person At All(tm). hurting and desperate, sure. desperately in need of care no one could give him, absolutely. but he also abused his power and, if we believe Jean's vitriol toward Harry had some kernel of truth, didn't fully take advantage of the people trying to offer him help. (Which like, regardless how deserving or not Harry was of Jean's whole Deal(tm) at the fishing village, it is... really, really hard to care for someone mentally ill. Which isn't saying don't do it, but you need to know when to step away. And I think part of Jean being Like That(tm) is Jean not knowing his boundary, and Harry not knowing his boundary which is JUST as necessary, and Jean burning himself out trying to help Harry then resenting Harry for not getting better despite all the work Jean was doing. I've seen this EXACT situation happen and it's 100% how they read to me, and it would explain why that "I want to get worse" comment was so CUTTING to Jean.)

Anyway my point is that Harry wants to leave behind those things that were terrible about him. Intentionally or not, he's gotten a chance to reinvent himself, and he does! He grabs onto whatever thoughts catch his fancy and discards the ones he dislikes, the ones that poke too close at something vulnerable and painful. He can tell whatever outright lies he wants to and the most people can do is call bullshit and move on, because god knows Harry doesn't know the truth half the time! And if you play with Harry wanting to be a Good Person in Some Sense(tm), I think by the end of Martinaise he really wants to prove he can do something good. Maybe it's "good at his job", or "good for the people", or "good for Kim, who truly trusts him", or whatever. But Harry wants to be more than the ghosts that lead him here.

...I don't know!!! I don't know!!!! I could probably sit here and talk forever about memory and history and the Grand Reinvention of Harry Du Bois but just think of how Harry must have felt bleeding out on the ground of the Tribunal and thinking the last several days are going to be all that's left of him --

[87dvhnk]

can i bitch about barbara for a second?

yeah, fuck her, tbh.

i know "dick doesn't deserve the women in his life" is an arguable claim, esp: re his cheating (canon, if not "in character"). however. during the most recent comics i read, barbara was really pissing me off. i understand what she's going though, but. she's doing fucking incredible, really. the narrative berates the reader for sympathizing with dick's desire to "protect" her, even, despite the fact that in reality no woman in a wheelchair would survive a quintillionth of the bullshit she, being a comic book character, can. in comic book land, she's at least as good as before, if not better as oracle. yet she's perpetually nursing a wound of bitterness and inferiority. i have been told to go fuck myself and violently yeeted out of people's life because i was too miserable to tolerate, and I immediate l clocked her as too miserable to tolerate, so trust me she is too miserable to tolerate. by god is she committed to being miserable.

meanwhile, dick has been doing his best to avoid aggravating this wound and trying to encourage her to patch it up (because he cant do it for her), reassuring her whenever possible that he doesn't care less about her for her paralysis. and then he's given a prison stay in her apartment for reopening his shoulder (again). and he's trying his best to put on a good face for her, despite being miserable, cooped up, doing "nothing" ("nothing" for him being solving cold cases ig). he's trying so hard to maintain levity, both for her and his sakes, being helpful where he can, and, in my option, being ungodly adorable, climbing on furniture like a jungle gym. good god, i would love to have his feet all over my kitchen counters.

but every single thing dick does, no matter how harmless, no matter how well intentioned, manages to aggravate her wound and to ratchet up barbara's misery, resulting in her breaking up with him.

barbara puts dick on the spot and asked dick to explain why he loved her, essentially being that he respects her greatly and they have history together. not a bad answer, i think. he could have flubbed that. why doesn't she explain why she loves dick? because if everything someone does pisses you, guaranteed you do not love them. it seems to be that she is put off by dick's essential nature. when she broke up with him, she said something like he was so gorgeous, but she couldn't do it. so. she is capable of understanding who he is and everything he's doing and everything he's going through, but she still chooses to emphasize his appearance over everything, and discard the rest. that is some catalina bullshit.

admitedly, dick does a massive whoopsie when he punches a random sign on a date because a conversation they were having pissed him off (which is why i was making fun on him for being a big man with big emotions), which in real life would be an automatic restraining order and shotgun by the bed recommendation for any woman, but this is a comic book. and he's not a man, or even a person; he's a character. and he does take the breakup remarkable well. he leaves and stays gone.

i'm irritated, really, but whatever.

and then, and then! the circus fire! babygirl, what the fuck are you doing. you are mad about shit that happened in the past, and you are putting it not on equal terms, but above shit that is happening currently, that happened last night to dick. throwing him out of her apartment the morning after the circus fire, knowing how terrible it was, how many people died, was insanely cruel. if barbara was dealing with some pos scumbag trying to weasel his way back into her pussy and pocketbook, her behavior would be admirable. but she's not. she's dealing with dick, who is going through possibly the worst period of his life. it doesn't matter that they are exes; if they have any affectionate relationship at all, as family, as friends, she should have shown more kindness and empathy to him at that moment. the fucking elephant showed more affection for dick than she did.

and then everything else happens, and of course after the building blows, even if dick would rather stay near to the 'haven than run back to gotham to lick his wounds, he would rather sleep on cement building tops and escapes than go to the one place he would go when there was nowhere else to go, because he was turned out and marched like as soon as he quit hysterically crying.

i'm....[fist clench]. i do not want them to get back together. if i were dick, i would never forgive barbara for how she treated him during all of this shit. i don't care bout her miseries. she prioritized her own stinging scar tissue over someone else's gushing artery...which is fine, so long as you don't claim to give a shit about them. but if you do?

you know what. dick gets a pass for the elevator comment. it is an inhuman feat to put up with someone who is committed to being miserable.

[fuwaprince]

And now I will admit to war crimes 🪴

Jk, just talking about my life for a sec. Sorry I'm boringggg

I need to sneak out to smoke a cigarette but everybody here is awake (boo) and I can't get myself to be seen by them!!!! They'd be mean if they saw me like this -____- As in unbrushed hair, sleepy eyes, not completely dripping in sweat from dusting their house that I live in the corner of... all too unworked and LAZY despite me staying on campus from noon to midnight doing my final project and waking up to continue stressful amounts of hw. This "relaxation" that appears unearned is undeserved according to their monopolistic observation (an actual gif my response to their policing attempts below)

Anyways I would just really like a cigarette in peace and these people will not let me have it so I'm considering inventing teleportation or just jumping out of my window like a maniac (I can land on all fours like a cat if I try really hard). Yes, that's desperate, AND?

Last night I also went to an award ceremony for some honor society which was way more fun than I thought it would be btw. My friend was the one who earned the award but I showed up for moral support!!! :') They had deep fried mac and cheese bits for vegetarians which felt strange, but I liked it and took a plate of it with me for another friend who was getting off work and missed the event

Stalker guy who is obsessive over his crush on me popped up 3 different times throughout the fucking entirety of me filming with my classmates (even they noticed his creepiness and pointed it out) and I eventually freaked him back out by following him to the restroom and demanding what the fuck he was doing on campus (to which he admitted he wanted to check on me which sounds considerate but no no no its creepy ... he will not even say a word and just stare until I choose to acknowledge him or not and I am tempted to choose the violent approach of smacking his skull so hard against a ceramic sink that the sink breaks).

Idk if anybody noticed but I didn't have to ask for rent help this month btw and I'm feeling so so so proud of that. Yay ✨ Broken laptop situation is also fixed. I'm not starving. Yeah, my room is still a biohazard to live in and people treat me like trash... But!!!! Not everybody! My friends give me hugs at the end of hard school days and I'm lucky to have a few cigarettes on me (I know, bad for my health.... But as Caro Emerald sings, "They say there's not much difference between a good man and a long drag from a cigarette. Sometimes you feel it, sometimes you don't. And sometimes you need it, and sometimes you don't").

I'm enjoying the silver linings.

I cry a lot but I've also smiled a lot too and been able to return some kindness to friends who needed it.

I visited that Japanese shop yesterday and the sweet lady gave me free sweets again. This time she literally pet my head before letting me go home and I blushed so hard. I don't even know her name but the small amount of physical touch from her was nice :') much needed... I feel like a stray cat that always walks in and she's so nice, treating me like I'm not a bother and giving me treats plus pets

Hmmmm, what else? I don't know what else I can share but I'm just in a sharing kind of mood rn. I'm going to try sneaking downstairs without offending anybody here with my disgusting state (no I am not actually disgusting but these people will shamelessly say so and shame me... :P whatever... Their leftovers are still in the fridge and I'm not saying shit but if I did that they would call me gross after it being over a week).

Oh I also I named my new laptop iPhonesSuck so now whenever I hop on their network, they can stalk that and get reminded that I hate them as iPhone supporters. I love the direction I'm going in.

Omg and before I forget!!! Just in case anybody surveiling me over their wifi wants some ultra rare photo evidence to gossip about, here:

Eat my lawn gnome cakes, cocksuckers >:P find something better to do with your lame ass life

Everybody else gets hugs and giant chocolate chip cookies that I stole from the banquet

💖 🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪 💖 please take one!!!!!

Have a good day and thank you for reading. And as always, thank you for supporting me friends 💕🙏 I love you. We're almost through 2023!

[resmarted]

just in case i haven’t made myself clear enough here is a list of things i would rather go back to than sammi sthweetheart~* on my beloved tv:

- my childhood spent in hospital beds

- my abusive alcoholic father

- getting jumped by all the boys in my grade at once until i couldn’t breathe

- eating lunch alone in the bathroom

- my dog dying

- hurricane katrina

- sleeping on the streets in the snow

- staying in a homeless shelter

- my several dozen suicide attempts

- almost dying in the hospital a couple of months ago and having my face further disfigured from trying to get a violent infection under control

- having all my teeth taken out only to be told jk we can’t actually fix this with dental implants as initially promised and just being left w no teeth

- being mistreated by nurses and doctors my whole life

- being thrown out by society in general

- the people i babysat for who used their kids as tools to emotionally manipulate me into doing what they wanted and bleeding the life from me

- the friends who dumped me when i no longer financially benefited them / gave them money / was overly generous to them anymore as well as those who stay hellbent on squeezing more out of me whether financially emotionally spiritually whatever gives them source of life i’m guessing because they died in the 1800’s

- the hailey bieber’s and buffalo bills of my life that talk mad shit about me while simultaneously doing eerie things to copy my every move including hacking into my accounts to take note on every text dm keystroke data in real time so they can conveniently show up to my location or simply to imitate each and every mannerism and style and breathing technique i’m assuming to eventually wear my skin as a sweater without a hitch idfk but you know who you are so hi was this the attention you were hoping to get bc here it is please stop breaking all of my vpn servers and changing shit i type in real time just to fuck with me you psychos 👋

- all the girls who used me for street cred and clout at the cost of my emotional well-being because it was a fun quirky thing for me to be madly in love with them and made them more interesting for other people to be around

- the only man i ever dared to trust who ended up cheating on me relentlessly and took no accountability for it (surprise surprise, girl with a violent father who can’t trust men picks the most insidious of scumbags to allow past the emotional barbed wire only to build it back 10x stronger and keep everyone at bay forever etc)

- having the cancerous tumor reappear and nearly destroy my brain and take my life again

would gladly go back to all of these things if it meant keeping the one goddam morsel of joy in this world. would even take a million more shots of nikki yawning and rolling her eyes since she’s basically a black sammi like why do we need 2. this was meant to sound funnier originally but i forgot about all the trauma til i made a lil listicle. but seriously WAY more upset about sammi returning than literally all those things i’m not jk

[butmakeitgayblog]

44 🫶🏽

44... out of lust

///////////////////

"Since when did you get signed on for bartending duty?"

Lexa's head whipped up at the sweet sound breaking through the smoke and thumping beat that pulsed around her, having gotten lost in the various tipsy 'wooo's and sloppily called orders. She paused long enough to shoot a flustered smile over the back end of a bottle of Jack before passing the drink off to another shout of her name.

"I didn't," Lexa half-shouted. "I was trying to make us drinks and then people just kept asking—"

"See, this is what I mean," Clarke laughed and leaned heavily against the island in the makeshift kitchen. "You're too nice for your own good."

"I'm not nice."

Clarke watched her pass off another solo cup of something that probably had an alcohol proof that was illegal. "Right."

"I have scowled at each and every one of them, thank you very much," Lexa sniffed and finally slammed down two glasses for herself. "Now. What's your pleasure?"

Lexa knew what Clarke was doing.

Lexa knew that Clarke had always known what she was doing just by showing up in the top that made Lexa sweat. So between the dancing and the touching, the shameless flirting and all the kissing in her dorm room still fresh on her mind, Lexa figured there was no real harm in letting her eyes drift south when Clarke leaned foward on the cross of her arms.

"I think you can guess, sweetcheeks."

That fucking name.

That fucking name that made Lexa flush and squirm with how violently it made her insides flop.

Because while nothing had really changed from the day before and that day, everything had one hundred percent changed between them in every way.

Because now Lexa knew Clarke maybe just might feel the same...

Because now Lexa knew what Clarke's lips tasted like and just how breathy she could sound when she moaned. She knew that Clarke was more comfortable laughing than being serious, that she tried to be brave even when her hands trembled. Knew she was passionate in the ways she had grabbed at Lexa, but it'd left Lexa breathless how she had soothed and been supple with everything she took.

And all that caring attention very much included the bountiful fistfuls of her ass.

She just hadn't realized it result in that damn name.

"Clarke," Lexa warned through a smothered smile and wasn't one bit surprised when all she got was a shrug in exchange. "I meant what's your drink?"

"Oh," Clarke nodded in feigned realization. "Well, in that case, surprise me."

Steadying her nerves as best she could with blue eyes trained on her every move, Lexa went about grabbing various bottles and mixers and adding splashes here and there. She heard her sorry excuse for an RA snort at the ridiculous performance (or possibly the very clear display of her inept mixology skills) but Lexa was confident that whatever she'd made would be just sweet and sour enough to appease any palate.

And also make them a little more handsy.

Either way, she'd consider it a win.

"There," she declared as though she'd nailed exactly what she was trying to do.

A blonde brow lifted dismay.

"Lexa."

"Yes?"

"That's eighty percent alcohol."

"It might have a kick to it."

"A kick?"

"Don't worry, beautiful. I'll grab you if you fall."

"Oh you'll grab me, huh?"

"Off the ground. I meant off the ground, obviously. Gentlewoman and all that," Lexa grinned and nudged the drink closer.

"Of course." Clarke took the cup and raised it just under her nose, letting out a soft 'oof' at the sharp scent of alcohol mixed with fruit. "Fuck, Lex, this is toxic."

Lexa bit her lip and leaned across the bar. "What? You don't trust me?"

"Shut it."

"Well alright then." 

"What exactly is this again? 'Gonna get me fucked up' juice?"

Lexa wet her lips and said fuck it. Kissing Clarke was better than any friendship. "It's just what's gonna get you where I need you to be."

Rounded cheeks pleasantly heated despite the narrow-eyed shake of Clarke's head. She went to tip the undoubtedly lethal mixture back, but paused when Lexa reached out. "Wait."

"What?"

"… Look at me when you drink it."

Blue eyes darkened as Lexa held them, silently daring Clarke to look away, and she had no idea where the confidence came from but something about this girl made her feel brave. And she wanted her so goddamn badly as Clarke tipped the drink up, never wavering in the silent but heated exchange as she took a healthy gulp.

"Whew," Clarke breathed and finally allowed herself to blink away the slight watering at the burn.

"Terrible?" Lexa laughed through a few claps from onlookers who'd watched the freshman brave the concoction when Clarke stifled a cough.

"Not terrible. Just strong," Clarke waved her off through another look and a much daintier sip. "But it's sweet, so that helps."

"It's sweet?"

"Yeah, but good."

"Can I have a taste?"

Her heart pounded as Clarke stared at her, face flushed from the moment or the fresh rush of alcohol, Lexa didn't know. But whatever she had been expecting it hadn't been what Clarke did.

Because Clarke gave her a look, and took a pull from the cup in her hand. And then she leaned across the counter to draw Lexa into a kiss.

The burn of alcohol and cherry juice bit at her tongue as the warm liquid spilled over into her mouth with a slow massage of lips. She swallowed it and fought a hiss to instead chase the hungry swipe of Clarke's tongue. It felt desperate, the hard press of her kisses, each stretched across the island as she licked into the sweet relief of Clarke's mouth.

Lexa felt herself echo the moan that shot down straight between her thighs and it felt criminal when those delicious lips suddenly pulled back.

Wild eyed and panting, she watched Clarke breathe a laugh even as she continued to cradle Lexa's jaw in her hands. And the sounds of the party fell on deaf ears when she grew serious again, catching Lexa's eyes and holding them with her own. She gave a brush of her thumb to the apple of Lexa's cheek and made her weak with a smile.

It was perfect.

This girl was perfect.

"Wanna go up to my dorm?"

[shurisneakers]

harmless (viii)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, protesting, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, gamer (derogatory), smidge of angst

Word count: 3.5k

A/N: listen idk what goes on at construction site and im too sexy to research so we’re going with my version of the world. hello. how are we all doing?

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

He doesn’t expect to see you on TV. 

In jail maybe, for something scandalous and completely unnecessary, but not TV.

But there you are, a sign board waving around furiously in your hand, voice in protest against the demolition of the community centre. You’re flipping the board back and forth to alternate between the messages you’ve scrawled on the cardboard.

You were among a few protesting, but clearly the loudest. 

He thinks that maybe he has the weekend off if you’re too busy fighting big corporations. He’d send his support even.

Until he zeroes in on the sign when it flips over, finally reading what it says.

You better get your ass here, sarge

And so he does.

Half the crowd had dipped by the time he arrived. You were there, still the loudest, but he couldn’t help but notice the lack of people as compared to an hour or two ago on TV. He supposed that justice could wait as long as it took to get lunch from the nearest café.

“I can’t stop you from protesting, y’know.” He’s a little wary of approaching your raging self. 

“Oh, hey Barnes. You got my message.” You break away for a second to scream a bunch of obscenities at the gigantic glass building before turning to him. “You wouldn’t be able to.”

“What’s your dumb plan then?” 

“First of all, it’s not dumb. It’s stupid. Put some respect on my technological genius.” You held up a finger. “Second of all, it’s not here.”

“Where is it?” 

“At the construction site.” You point down the road. “Come on.”

Right along the way you stop to chant another slogan. He waves his arm around meekly in support. He did, after all, have to stand up for what was right, but if his publicist saw him here she’d have an aneurysm. 

The construction site isn’t very far off. It’s adjacent to the community centre, which he assumes they’re going to tear down to make more space for whatever shitty commercial building was going to take its place.

There are already a few excavators and dozers there but no one to man them since it was lunch time. What garners his attention is the small silver plate that’s on the floor a few feet ahead in the direction you’re walking towards.

“Here.” You stop once it nears. “The plan.”

“Am I supposed to know what this is?” He lightly kicked at it, earning a smack on the arm from you.

“Stop that,” you scolded, “and look at it. It’s not hard to figure out.”

He narrows his eyes. There’s a small u-shaped piece of metal in the middle of the plate. “That’s a magnet.”

“Exactly.” You clapped your hands together in excitement. “The world’s strongest electromagnet.”

He looks around. The only possibly magnetic things are the cranes and excavators around him.

“You’re going to... stop the machines from moving ahead?” he hesitates in his deduction. 

“Yep. Can’t tear anything down if they can’t get to it first.” 

Bucky looks down.

“Does this thing even work?” He toes at it again. “It’s kinda small.”

“It works beautifully, stop kicking at it, you demon-”

“What happens if I step on it, huh?” He knows this would get on your nerves wonderfully. He raises his leg. “Do I get to go home for the day?”

“You’re such a little shit,” you whine, reaching for your back pocket. “Stop bullying my invention.”

“’m gonna squish it like a bug.” He’s only half kidding about that part. “I’m gonna-”

Before he can finish his sentence something yanks him down hard. His head nearly hits the ground before his right arm shoots out to break his fall.

"Woah there, don't go falling for me as yet.” 

“What the fu-” he begins, eyes locking on his metal arm that was pressed flat against the earth.

“I told you it works,” you say smugly. “Try crushing it now, Barnes. If you can even get off the floor.”

He tugs his hand but it’s firmly attached to the thing. No matter how or where he’s applying the effort, his limb refuses to move. He’s stuck.

“Turn it off,” he sighs. “You made your point.”

“No. Stay there.”

“Y/N, shut up and turn this off,” he groans, trying to find a better position rather than chin down on the ground.

“Lay there and rot. You deserve it for underestimating me.” You huff.

“I wasn’t underestimating you, Jesus Christ.” He really was planning to just step on it, but he had complete faith that it worked. 

When he doesn’t receive a reply, his gaze follows yours. Suddenly the crane looks a lot closer than it initially did. Awesome. 

“Those are moving towards me.” He picks up on the low groan and creak of metal.

“Yeah, they are.” You nod, one hand on your hip, watching them.

He didn’t think that getting crushed under construction equipment would be how his day went. 

“Not my problem,” you decide finally after a bout of silence. 

Now that simply wouldn’t do. 

Death was definitely a problem, but what was more important was that he was going to get a dust allergy from the mud. He could already feel the blocked nose and temperature incoming.

“Are you really going to waste this on me? Don’t you have a demolition to stop?” He manages to twist his body so that he’s lying on his back.

“Good point,” you squint into the distance at the whirring of the heavy machinery. Their owners wouldn’t be happy to find them missing from their original spot. “But I still can’t help you out.”

“You’re willing to sacrifice your-”

“I can’t help you out because I don’t have an off switch. Yet,” you add the last part in a hurry.

“Then when the fuck were you planning to build one?” He sits up, leaning on his elbow. The cranes weren’t a mini object on the horizon now; the closer they got, the faster they were starting to move towards him. 

“I don’t know, after they agreed not to take down the building?”

He could just detach his arm and come back for it later he but had no guarantee that you would stop here for the day or that the vibranium could withstand all that pressure. 

“You better make a switch right now and get me out of this, I don’t care how.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you grumbled, bending to assess how badly he was stuck. “You know, this thing runs really deep into the earth. It’d take forever to dig back up and then get you back to my lab and then build a switch.”

“How long?” He didn’t have a lot of time, clearly, but even generally he didn’t have the whole day to waste. He had a mission the next day. He had to put the fear of death into some Russians and bring some pirozhki back for Nat. 

“I don’t know,” you furrowed your eyebrows. “Too long for my schedule anyway, I have class prep to do.”

“Motherfucke- that thing’s like twenty feet away.” He’s worried about how you don’t look fazed at all when he points at the stupid machine.

He’s about to volunteer to detach his arm when he realises it’s definitely less than twenty feet now. He had a backup just in case. It didn’t move as smoothly, but who could tell the difference when a couple of tons of pressure was aiming for your face, and hell, if he explained his circumstances of the destruction of his arm to T’Challa-

“Okay, fine.” You reach into your backpack to grab something that looked like a wrist watch. It matched the one already around your hand. 

You reach over and clasp it around his hand before turning a dial on the side.

“You ready?” you ask, ignoring the large crane that was starting to charge towards you. 

“For what?” he replies, looking down at it. He can barely hear you over the sound of the whining of machinery.  

“Teleportation, baby.” You send him a big grin before slamming down on his watch.

“Huh-” His voice cuts off immediately. 

If there’s anything that can be said about teleportation, it’s that he feels like every atom in his entire body violently splits to float around briefly before suddenly rejoining again.  

The ground beneath him feels different, and it takes him a second to realise that he was on the floor of your lair. 

“What the fu-”

“Hello,” your voice comes from above him. 

“You can teleport.” It’s not difficult for him to look at you now without the sun in his face. His arm is still stuck to the magnet but since the giant rod it was attached to was no longer deep in the ground, he could lift the entire apparatus up relatively easily.

“What, like it’s hard?” You discarded your bag on the floor. “You good? Takes a while to get used to.”

He gives you a grunt in acknowledgement, shaking his arm to see if he had any luck. It didn’t budge.

“Come on, take a seat.” You gesture to a lab chair you’ve pulled up for him on the raised platform at the front of the room. He realises that this is the first time he’s properly seen what’s actually inside your lair.

There are various buttons that do God knows what, drawers and cabinets painted black, several computer screens and gigantic pillars of glass on either side of the set up that encapsulate some green bubbling liquid. There’s a giant television set up against the wall, divided into several screens.

“Whaddya think?” You do a small swoop of your arm to show off the place.

“Gamer,” he says simply, testing his luck.

“What did you just say to me?” you recoil instantly, disgust on your face.

“It’s a gamer set up.” He points a finger at the TV screen. He was told by Shuri to use it as an insult, but he wasn’t exactly sure why. It just felt appropriate. 

“Take that back right now.” You raise a finger accusatorially at him.

“No.” He was sticking with it even though he had no idea what exactly the context was.

“Fuck your arm,” you announce, throwing your hands up in surrender.

“Fuck your demolition then,” he replies simply, getting up from his place on the chair to leave with the thing still attached to him. 

He takes one step ahead before your voice rings out.

“Sit down, drama queen,” your voice calls from behind him. “God, you’re annoying.”

“You’re infuriating.”

“I’m the best part of your week,” you fire back, ”and also your only way out of this. Now sit down.”

He didn’t even need the second warning, he was already on the chair the first time around.

“I’m not going to build a switch to turn this off. It’d take too long,” you examine the piece of equipment with more gentleness than he was expecting, “I’m going to remove it instead. It’s gonna take a while, so you better get comfortable.”

“I’m not.”

“That’s so sad,” you say without any indication of wanting to help. 

He rolls his eyes.

You pull up next to him, welding glasses covering your face and the tool in your hand. 

He turns away when you start, making sure his face is not directly within its trajectory. 

He makes himself busy by looking around some more. There are details you’ve put into the place, materials that are non-flammable made up most of the architecture. It’s dramatic, sure, but somehow the designs and colours seemed to go together. It did look sinister, he’d give you props for that.

The space was quite big. It occurs to him only then that that’s how you manage to sneak up on him so often in the past. Everything clicked. Fucking teleportation.

“So,” your voice was raised to speak over the noise. “How’s it going?”

He decidedly doesn’t answer. His position is more than enough.

“Right.” You clear your throat. 

He takes to counting the tiles on the floor, figuring out how many were there from the raised platform to the wall of the entrance. 

“Not how you imagined your day to go, huh?” you continued despite his lack of response. “But some might say it’s a privilege to be spending the day with a cool, mad scie-”

“Are you going to keep talking?” he interrupts, losing his count on the floor.

“Yeah, duh,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You got anything better to do?”

He didn’t. 

“What’s it like living with a bunch of superheroes?” You change course. He’s not sure if he’s really allowed to disclose top secret information. “I assume there’s a lot of protein shakes, talcum powder for the chafing-”

Then again, how much damage could you do by knowing that Steve preferred pancakes over waffles?

“It’s quiet,” he says. “Most of the time.”

“Save all your smart talking for the battlefield, huh?” 

He doesn’t reply. It’s quiet around the Tower. A lot of their energy goes towards missions and recuperating once they’re back. 

“You go on missions a lot?” 

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Boo, you whore,” you say with mock disappointment.

He got that reference.

“What’s your favourite food then?”

He scrunches his eyebrows.

“What?” The welding stops for a second while you look at him. “Don’t tell me that’s classified too.”

It’s not, he’s just never thought about it. 

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, “Pasta?”

“Vague, but I’ll take it.”

He used to boil a lot of pasta, from what he could remember of his days in hiding. Cheap and bought in bulk before he saved up enough to buy things like fruits. A lot of the times the amount of sauce he had access to was enough for maybe seasoning, not a whole component on its own. 

It’s one of the perks of being a free man in the 21st century he thinks, a steaming bowl of fettuccini drenched in sauce and garlic bread on the side. 

“What do you do in your downtime?”

“Nothing.” Well, he considers it to be a pass time and doing nothing is a full time gig. It takes effort to do nothing. He even has days dedicated to doing nothing, as suggested to him by his therapist.

“Really?” You sound a little surprised, although it’s hard to make out when you’re already speaking a lot louder than usual. “No shining your penny collection? No software update for this thing?” You tap at his arm. 

There really isn’t anything. Truth be told, he thinks he’s the most boring guy in the Tower. He sticks to himself, has a few succulents that he adores and occasionally watches trashy television. So then why are you so interested in him?

“You’re obsessed with me,” he says pointedly. “Why?”

You give a short laugh. “I think it’s the blue eyes, sarge, they’re really popping today. Gotta say, I’m loving this colour on you. Is it different from the black you wore last week? And from the one from the week before that?”

He looks down at his dark t-shirt and utility pants. He had other clothes but those were reserved for things that were not this.

“Or maybe it’s the grumpiness, I don’t know. I love it when someone shows absolutely no interest in me. Very sexy of you.” Oh jeez, you were going to continue. “Hell, maybe it’s the thighs-”

“Okay,” he interjects, feeling the need to count the tiles more than ever. He equates the heat in his neck from the welding going on beside him. 

The loudness of your laughter is clearer than the sound of metal on metal when you tug a large piece of the invention off. Things were moving fast. He could get back home to his Star Trek marathon and forget this day ever happened.

“You know, you’re more interesting than you think,” you pipe up casually. 

He doesn’t expect this and therefore he supposes he can’t stop the curiosity from enveloping his face. He hasn’t told you anything about himself, so then the inference you reached came out of nowhere.

Apparently, you take notice of the confusion on his face, even though he can’t see through the giant welding mask, because you let out a chuckle. 

“Oh, come on, really? You have no idea?” you ask lightly, pausing to see if he offers anything other than silence. “You’ve come back almost every week even though you know it’s a waste of your time, you always keep your promises and I know for a fact that if you wanted to stop me once and for all, you could have. But you’re not.”

He doesn’t realise you’ve stopped welding until you start again. Good, it gives him an excuse not to have to look at you after that. 

Frankly, he’s a little stunned.

You’re not looking at him, he can tell from his peripheral vision. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a small crush on me.”

At that, he’s forced to roll his eyes out of instinct. Thankfully you do know better.

A few screws out later, another piece comes out. You inform him that’s it’s going to get trickier from there since the circuit was a little more intricate, a lot more time than the original few pieces. He can see his Star Trek marathon fade away in the distance.

You ask him a few more questions. Some he answers with silence, others maybe a tidbit here and there. 

“How’s dating now compared to the forties?”

“Strange.” He purses his lips in thought. “One guy asked for a gym date. Didn’t know that was a thing.”

“How’d that turn out?” you laugh.

“He didn’t ask for a second one.” His Bumble matches with girls somehow had gone down since he cut his hair, but he’s not too bothered. Not like there was a huge shortage. 

He likes cats, thinks the worst merchandise that they make is the stupid baseball card with his face on it, and doesn’t have social media for the sake of his sanity. He’s seen the thirst tweets. 

Clearly, he’s revealed his deepest, darkest secrets. Utterly classified material. But he doesn’t know anything about you other than your name, number, address, where you teach, what your hobby is-

“You, uh-” he hesitates, “You got a favourite food?”

Your hands hold still to hover above what they’re working on. You fight back a smile. “Sure do.”

He asks a few more questions. Shuts up when he feels his social battery drain. That’s enough for the next month, he thinks.

The sun’s dipped down beyond the horizon by the time majority of the work is completed. Both of you have taken a few breaks to fight the feeling of stiffness that was creeping into your joints. 

You scoff and tell him you’re not planning to poison him when he denies the offer of a soda. He doesn’t deter in his decision.

“How much to go?” He has a mission tomorrow that he’d really like to get some sleep in before. Waking up at 3am to get ready was the worst part of the job. 

“Basically done.” You roll your chair back, rotating your shoulder and stretching your fingers. “There’s just this little part that I can’t access from this angle. How good are you at hanging upside down like a bat?”

Fuck it, he sighs to himself, it was almost finished anyway.

Bucky stands up, tilting his neck to the side slightly before pulling at a small latch under his arm, one so tiny that you’d never make out was even there unless you knew it existed. The arm releases from his shoulder with a small click.

He offers it to you, a piece of your magnet still attached to it.

Your eyes are slightly wide. He raises his eyebrows.

You don’t say anything, just accept it and flip it to a position you were comfortable with. It takes only a minute or two for the sound of the last piece hitting the floor to reverberate through the hall.

You give a small cheer. He lets out a tiny exhale in equal parts fatigue and relief.

“So,” you drawl, handing his arm back to him, “you could have just done that the whole time.”

He doesn’t reply, just slides it back onto his shoulder. 

“You had the option of leaving your arm here and coming back later to get it.” 

He gives it a few shakes, opens and clenches his fist shut a few times to make sure everything is working.

“You wanted to talk to me.”

He gives you a deadpan look. “I was distracting you.”

“Bullshit,” you laugh.

“Believe what you must.” He shrugs, turning around. “My job here is done regardless.”

“Oh, I believe alright,” you call out from behind him as he walks towards the entrance of your lair. “I believe you’re a sneaky bastard, Bucky Barnes.”

He doesn’t stop himself from smiling at the overdramatic gasp you give when he flips you a middle finger. From the metal arm, too. 

Next part